American Honey

After straightening his tie, and settling his voice, Simon returns to his seat. Simon nods at both Owen and me before he continues reading through the papers. I can’t help but feel like a chastised child. Even I can’t believe I just called him a bastard farm boy. The apology hangs off my lips, but I can’t get over the idea that something I’ve worked so hard for is being taken away from me, well, at least half of it.

Most of the rest of the papers contain information of which I’m already aware. The state of affairs at the vineyard, yearly e

arnings, and costs of operations, but what astounds me is the part about how the rest of the estate is to be divvied up.

Shocked, I scoot my chair forward. “I’m sorry, but can you repeat that?” I ask when what Simon’s just said makes absolutely no sense to me.

“Sure thing, Ms. Blackwell,” Simon reassures, slipping his glasses back up into position. “Mr. Carmichael…” My eyes instinctively roam over to Owen, who is shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Simon also notices Owen’s discomfort and averts his eyes, more than likely for the sake of getting this over with sooner rather than later. “Vincent designated that half of the estate goes to you, Mr. Carmichael.” Simon asserts his statement with a confident look over at Owen to make sure that nothing can be misunderstood. “And the other half, he left to you, Ms. Blackwell.”

“You mean to the company, right? Vincent left it to me in proxy, to the name of the estate, right?” It’s the only logical explanation I can come up with, the only one that makes sense. From across the table, I feel Owen’s eyes staring laser beams over at me. His glare makes me feel naked and vulnerable, but it also makes me feel the pulsating vibrations of his anger.

Simon scans over the paper he’s just read. “Uh, no actually, according to this, he’s actually left it directly to you.”

My jaw hits the table. Okay, fine. That’s an exaggeration, but still the fact that Vincent has left me, Elle Blackwell, only child to a broken family who was never expected to amount to anything half of the most prestigious winery in the state, is pretty amazing.

A harsh realization slaps me in face. What a hypocrite! I can’t believe I got all high and mighty on Owen when, in reality, I’m the same exact thing, a nobody from nowhere.

“I’ll just need you both to sign right here,” Simon’s voice breaks through the stilted silence. Owen grabs the pen from him. He scratches his name across the paper, nearly ripping it in half as he signs his name. Rather than handing it to me, Owen tosses the pen on the table and I’m surprised that he doesn’t shatter the glass with the force of his toss.

With careful precision, I grace the paper with my name, admiring the hard lines of Owen’s signature above the feminine lines of my own.

When I click the fancy pen that probably cost more than my entire outfit closed, Owen stands from his seat. Hovering over the table, his presence is impossible to ignore. “I guess I’ll be in touch,” he mutters angrily. Even though I deserve it, his tone still stings. I had nothing to do with the fact that Vincent was a shitty father, an absentee father, actually. That wasn’t my responsibility. In fact, my only job has been to make sure that the winery makes money and it’s been a job at which I’ve been rather successful, one from which I will not let Owen Carmichael, hottest God-like man I’ve ever laid eyes on, lead me astray.

Standing from my own chair, I hope to gain some leverage on him, but all I manage to do is exacerbate the difference in our statures. I extend my hand. “I guess we’ll be in touch, Owen.” Though I consider using the more formal Mr. Carmichael, I won’t give him the satisfaction of having him think he’s above me.

Hmmm…Owen…above me.

Slapping myself out of my own erotic daydream - yeah, it’s been far too long - I slide him a business card and tell him to call me Monday so we can meet and go over any remaining details.

All but grunting at me, Owen nods to Simon as he struts out of the room. His jean-clad and glorious ass does not go unnoticed, at least on my part.

“That went well,” Simon jokes as he shuffles his precious papers once more.

A soft chuckle passes my lips. “Sure did,” I respond, thinking any situation where I get to see Owen Carmichael again is obviously successful.

Chapter 3

Owen

Given my current pissy mood, I need a drink, so I call my friend Nick on the way home from the will reading. With a few taps on the screen, his line is ringing through the Bluetooth in my ear. “What are you doing tonight?”

His voice is thick and groggy with sleep, despite the fact that it’s three in the afternoon. “Uh, nothing. Dude, what time is it?” I don’t think Nick has ever rolled out of bed before dinner on a day off. Though he owns his own construction company, the man loves his sleep and uses every minute of his days off to do just that.

Pulling up to a stoplight, I shake my head and laugh at his ridiculousness. At least his sleep-induced stupor helps lighten my mood. “Time for you to wake up, shower, and get the fuck out of your shit-hole apartment.”

“Hey,” he defends, rather weakly through a yawn. “I like my shit-hole apartment.”

“Whatever,” I laugh as I pull away from the light into the slow moving side-road traffic. “Drinks?” I ask, knowing full well that he’ll be up for it.

“Yeah. The usual?”

I swear, if I could, I would just nod and we’d be done with it. “Eight?” I ask and he agrees. We end the call as I pull up to the dirt driveway of my childhood home. So many thoughts run through my head as I let the engine idle in the dusty driveway.

When Simon told me that my father’s vineyard was worth a million and a half dollars a year, I couldn’t help but do the math. Imagining how much easier my life could have been had he been a part of it was impossible. But I didn’t know him enough, at all really, to wonder what it would be like to have him in my world. All I could wonder about was why he’d been so adamant to keep me out of his life until his death that is.

The knowledge that I am currently the half-owner of Belle Luna Vineyards is not something that sits easily with me. I’d known about Bella Luna’s wines all my life. Hell, it was right around the block from me. Come to think of it though, it’s not like I’d really know how big of a deal the vineyard actually was until I’d started studying business. I’d just never known the man who was my father owned it.

As I kill the ignition, a plan, an ugly, evil, and beautifully manipulative little plan unfurls in my head.