Waking Up with a Billionaire (The Overnight Billionaires Book 3) (12 page)

The drawing took her breath away. Not because of the talent behind each stroke, but because of the girl who looked back at her. A fifteen-year-old girl who Chloe had forgotten existed. Gone were the somber features and the eyes that reflected pain, and in their place was a bright smile and eyes that reflected happiness. How had Grayson seen this girl? Was she still there deep down inside? Chloe wanted to believe it.

Having no words to express what she felt at that moment, she set the sketchpad and glass on the counter and turned toward the stairs. She had almost reached them when Grayson spoke.

“Good night, Princess Lena.”

With tears clogging her throat, she answered.

“Good night, Graysie.”

W
here the hell are you, Grayson?” Deacon’s voice came through the speakers of the Bugatti loud and clear.

Grayson glanced at his GPS and realized that he wasn’t quite sure. He was somewhere in Napa Valley. Although that wasn’t something he wanted Deacon to know. Especially when Grayson was supposed to be at the office.

“I’m running a little late this morning,” he said.

“That’s one of the first rules of business, Gray—a late boss means late employees.” There was a pause, and Grayson could hear faint crying in the background. “In fact, maybe I need to come back to work.”

“Absolutely not, Deke. You planned to stay home a couple weeks with Olivia and Michael, and you need to stick to it. I’ve got everything under control.” It was a bald-faced lie. He had nothing under control, and driving around Napa Valley only proved it. He had no business nosing into Chloe’s personal life when he should be at French Kiss smoothing Miles’s ruffled feathers and getting Natalia to come back to work so they could pull together the catalog. Not that he hadn’t tried to get Natalia to come back. He had called her just that morning and explained that he wasn’t going to date her whether she worked for French Kiss or not. The obstinate model wasn’t getting it. She was convinced that he was fighting his true desires. And he was fighting his true desires. But they had nothing to do with Natalia.

Maybe that was why he’d come on this wild-goose chase. Once he solved the puzzle that was Chloe, he could forget about her and move on with this life. Not that he had much of a life without his painting. He glanced at the navigation system and took a left as the green arrow indicated.

“So you haven’t had any problems at work?” Deacon asked.

“Just the usual,” he hedged. “Now would you stop worrying and concentrate on your family?”

“You’re right,” Deacon said. “Maybe if I focus on getting Michael on a schedule, things would be going a little smoother.”

“I gather that my nephew is still keeping you up at night.”

A tired sigh came through the speakers. “He started sleeping great during the day, but at night all he wants to do is eat and poop.”

“He sounds like Jonathan Livingston. The stupid bird has decided to take up permanent residence on the planter on the balcony. Maybe I shouldn’t be feeding him. Maybe we’ve made him too domesticated.”

“It’s too late now. Olivia will not be happy if you starve Jonathan. And don’t compare my son to a stupid bird. Michael is much smarter. Although his poops do resemble the stuff Jonathan used to drop on Olivia’s balcony rug.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was. I swear it’s the nastiest stuff I’ve ever seen.”

“After Nash and I moved in, we got rid of the rug, and now I just hose off the balcony. Maybe you could do the same with Michael.” There was a pause, as if Deacon was considering it. “I was joking, Deke.”

“Yeah…right. Speaking of your house, Olivia’s mom mentioned stopping by to see your paintings. What’s this I hear about a woman living with you? Why didn’t you tell me you were in a serious relationship?”

“Because I’m not in a serious relationship,” he said. “She’s a friend of Madison’s that needed a place to stay for a few days.” Grayson realized the holes in the lie when Deacon fired off his next question.

“Why isn’t she staying with Madison?”

He scrambled for a good answer and decided to stay as close to the truth as possible. “Because her ex-boyfriend is abusive and Madison’s is the first place he’ll look.” It turned out to be the perfect response. Deacon had always had a soft spot for a woman in trouble.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re helping her out, Gray. And if she needs a lawyer to get a restraining order on the asshole, you can ask Jason to give you a reference.”

“Deacon!” Olivia’s voice came through the speakers amid even louder baby wailing.

“I have to go,” Deacon said. “But I’ll call you later. I want to hear about the holiday catalog and what we’ll be using for the cover. We used Madison for the fall catalog so I’m thinking Natalia.”

Grayson cringed. “Umm…maybe we should use one of the newer models—you know, a fresh face.”

The crying got even louder. “We’ll have to talk about it later.”

Once Deacon hung up, Grayson realized that he had missed a turn. He made a U-turn and then took a left. This road was dirt and not exactly meant for a low-riding sports car. Luckily, he had to drive only a short distance before the sign for the vineyard appeared.

Casa Selena.

He had spent the night Googling the name Selena Cameron and any other words that might pull up pictures of Chloe. Remembering the expert way Chloe had opened the bottle of wine, he’d added “wine” to his search and hit pay dirt.

Unfortunately, the Selena Cameron he’d found pictures of was an older woman who had started a vineyard in Napa Valley. It seemed too much of a coincidence to ignore. He realized his mistake when the winery came into view. The massive Spanish-style stone structure that sat on the hill looked more like a medieval castle than a winery. There was no way in hell that anyone would run away from this fairy tale.

Grayson thought about turning around, but since he had come all this way, he might as well check it out. He parked in the visitors’ parking lot, then got out and walked along a pebbled pathway that led through a beautiful flower garden. He stopped where the path divided, unsure of what direction to go in.

“If you’re lookin’ for the tasting room, it’s to the right.”

Grayson turned to see an old man in baggy cargo pants and a tattered plaid shirt standing amid the flowers like the Scarecrow in
The Wizard of Oz
.

“This way?” Grayson pointed.

The man squinted beneath a straw cowboy hat that looked like it had been run over by a semitruck—repeatedly. “That would be the way.”

Grayson nodded his thanks before heading down the path to the tasting room. He pushed open the large oak door to find a sunlit room with a bar on one side and on the other a bank of windows that looked out over the valley. An older touristy couple was standing at the bar, tasting the wine a young woman in a white shirt and red apron poured.

“This is our Chardonnay,” the young woman said. “A medium-bodied wine with delicate notes of apple and pear and a hint of oak.”

The woman, who was wearing a hot pink sun hat, took a sip and nodded. “Yes, I do taste the oak.” She looked at the man. “Don’t you taste the oak, Harry?”

The man downed the wine in one swig. “Yep, Milly, tastes like an entire forest of oak.” He set the glass down with a loud clink before addressing the server. “You wouldn’t have a beer, would you, sweetheart?”

Milly swatted his arm. “Can you act civil for one second, Harry? And considering I spent our last vacation touring the Milwaukee breweries with you, it’s the least you can do.”

“Fine,” Harry grouched. “But do you think I could get more than a thimbleful next time?”

“Of course,” the server said politely. “But we charge by the glass. A tasting is all that’s included in the tour package. Would you like a glass of Chardonnay? Or perhaps the pinot grigio you tasted earlier?” She had bent to pull another bottle of wine from beneath the bar when she noticed Grayson standing by the door. “Are you here for wine tasting or the tour?”

Grayson walked to the bar. “Just a tasting.” He smiled at the couple. “Enjoying your vacation?”

“Not yet,” Harry grumbled, and got another swat for his trouble.

“Don’t pay him any attention,” Milly said. “We’re having a wonderful time.” Her gaze took in Grayson’s suit, and she swatted her husband yet again. “I told you that we should’ve dressed nicer, Harry.”

Grayson tasted one wine with the couple before their tour started. Once they were gone, he attempted to get some information out of the young woman. “So this must be a fun job. How long have you worked here?”

“The last two years. The Camerons are real nice about working around my college schedule.”

“So you know the owners?”

“The younger Cameron mostly. Mr. Cameron doesn’t deal with the tasting room as much as with the production.” She uncorked another bottle of wine.

“This is Robert Cameron we’re talking about?”

“No. Robert is retired, and his wife, Selena, passed away. Davis Cameron, their son, is the one who runs the vineyards now, along with his youngest nephew.” She poured him a splash of wine. “This is our Syrah. It’s a full-bodied wine with blackberry and peppery tones.”

Grayson took a drink. Like Harry, he would’ve much preferred a beer. “So how many children does Davis have?”

“None that I know of, which is why his nephew works with him and will probably inherit the winery.” She pointed to the wall behind the bar, which was filled with awards and a variety of pictures that ranged from the cattle ranch the place had once been to the castle-like structure and winery it was today. In the midst of these photographs was a framed picture of two men standing in front of a stack of wine barrels.

“That’s Davis Cameron and his nephew Cain.”

Grayson examined the picture, but neither man looked like Chloe. Feeling foolish for coming all this way for nothing, Grayson pulled out his wallet. “Thanks for the wine. I’ll take a case of the Syrah and Chardonnay. I’m assuming you ship?”

After he’d paid and given his address, he headed back out the way he’d come. But before he could reach the parking lot, the gardener stopped him.

“So what did you think of the wine?”

Grayson turned and found the old man kneeling in the flowers, his aged hands deep in the dark soil. He should’ve just said the wine was good and been on his way. But there was something about the man that reminded him of his own grandfather, and Grandpa Beaumont had had zero respect for a man who couldn’t tell the truth.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a wine drinker,” he said.

The man laughed. “Well, that makes two of us. I never did understand why my Selena loved it so much. Of course, I could never understand how she could fall in love with an old cowpoke like me either.”

Grayson stared at the man. “You’re Robert Cameron?”

The man chuckled again. “On my gardening days, I’m sure it’s hard to believe.” He brushed off his hands, then used the hoe next to him to climb to his feet. “Robert Cameron. I’d shake hands, but I wouldn’t want to dirty that nice suit.”

Grayson held out his hand. “I’ve never worried about a little dirt.” He shook the man’s hand. “Grayson Beaumont. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Just call me Bob.” He squinted beneath the brim of his hat. “Beaumont? Last month I read an article about a Deacon Beaumont in
Forbes
magazine. Any relation?”

Obviously the man did more than garden. “My brother.”

“So you’re one of the undergarment billionaires, are you?”

Grayson laughed. “I prefer that to
panty billionaire
.”

A smile creased Bob’s face. “Well, either way, it’s intriguing.” He stepped out on the path. “Come on, Grayson Beaumont. I’ll get you something more refreshing than a glass of wine.”

Grayson really should’ve made his excuses. He didn’t have any more time to waste on this foolish trip. But he couldn’t bring himself to be rude, so he followed Bob along the left side of the path, down some stone steps, and through the tidy rows of grapevines to a much smaller house set back in a cluster of pecan trees.

“This was our first home. Once Davis built his castle, he gave this to the winemaker he’d brought over from Italy.” He shook his head. “The biggest mistake of his life.” He rested the hoe that he had used as a walking stick against the side of the house, then hooked his cowboy hat on it. “Davis wanted to burn the entire house down after Beth passed away, but I wouldn’t let him. Jealousy can make a man do foolish things.”

Burning down a house seemed a little extreme, and Grayson had to wonder what kind of jealousy would spur the action.

Bob opened the door. “Come on in, but wipe your feet first. I don’t want grape stains on my carpet.”

Grayson thoroughly wiped his feet on the mat, then followed the man inside. The living room was spacious and looked like an older person lived there. Throw blankets covered all the furniture, including the recliner that sat in front of a flat-screen television. Next to the recliner was a TV tray filled with prescription bottles and over-the-counter pain relievers.

Bob bypassed the chair and shuffled into the sprawling kitchen. Grayson followed him and took a seat at the table, which was positioned in front of a bay window with a perfect view of the vineyards. He enjoyed the view as Bob washed his hands and then dried them on the dish towel hooked over the oven handle. “You hungry? Rosa brought me some enchiladas last night for dinner, and there’s plenty left over. Can’t get the fool woman to realize that I can’t eat spicy foods without getting heartburn.”

“No, thank you.” Grayson glanced at the clock on the wall. “I don’t have much time.”

“Time is a tough taskmaster. Although when you don’t have a lot of it left, you wonder what all the hurry was about.” Bob took two glasses out of a cupboard. He filled each one with ice from the freezer, followed by lemonade from the pitcher he took out of the refrigerator. Before he brought them to the table, he poured a healthy dose of whiskey in each.

“My daddy used to call this a ‘Sour Horse’s Ass.’ I never understood why until I got drunk as a skunk on them. If you’re not careful, they can turn you into one hell of a horse’s ass.” He handed a glass to Grayson before lifting it in a toast. “To youth and good women—both slip away much too fast.” He took a drink before he eased down in the chair across from Grayson.

Grayson took one sip, and his eyes watered. “I was sorry to hear about your wife. From the article I read online, she was the one who started the vineyard.”

Bob stared out the window at the rows of grapevines. “She loved everything about life—family, good food, and great wine. When oil prices cratered and my oil company was close to bankruptcy, she talked me into moving here to the land she’d inherited from her family. She had a dream, and she stuck with it until it succeeded. Selena McAlister was as smart as she was beautiful.”