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GVV. At the Wine Cellar. No.
Okay. I’ll pick you up at two.
I looked up. Was he serious? How did he know I even wanted to go with him? Awfully presumptuous of him. Yet, I liked his initiative too.
A lot.
This “new” Lucas did not fuck around.
“Oh man. She has it bad,” Zoe said to Natalie.
“She does,” Natalie agreed. “I just hope Lucas doesn’t break you,” she added to me. “Because I think he has the power to do that, and it scares me.”
Again, I couldn’t disagree. With one small caveat.
“I think, maybe,” I amended, “he’s broken me already.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
lucas
“Marco Grado.” I reached across the bar to shake my old friend’s hand. “How the hell are you?”
Marco was the son of the owners of Grado Valley Vineyards, and now, apparently, part owner himself. While I was gone, his parents had retired, leaving the vineyard—which now included two separate wineries and a brewery—to their four kids, including Marco.
“No complaints here. Good to have you back in town. Thank you for serving. Ten years is a hell of a long time.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. The whole “thanks for your service” thing always made me uncomfortable. “Congrats on the business. Looks like Grado Valley is booming.”
Though most of the wineries on the lake would be pretty busy on a Sunday in the fall, the Grado Wine Cellar was jammed, probably more than most.
“Heard about the tattoo studio too,” he said, moving aside to let the tasting room attendant take care of a new group that had just come up to the bar. “How did you learn to do that in the military?”
“A lot of bad tattoos on myself,” I said. “There was a guy in my squad back in the early days who had his tattoo machine with him. Learning helped to pass downtime when we were deployed.”
“Cool,” Marco said. Then he added, “So, I’ve been hearing some things.”
“Hit me,” I said, knowing Marco wouldn’t hold back.
“Some people are not so happy about the studio. Just wanted you to know, if you have any pushback, ignore the hell out of it. This town can be slow to change, if you remember, but they get there. Eventually.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said, aware they were talking about more than just tattoos. A local reporter had gotten ahold of my story and called me to do some kind of “welcome back” article. I reluctantly agreed to an interview until the guy asked about my ETS. Expiration Term of Service wasn’t something I wanted to discuss. Though I had nothing to be ashamed of—just the opposite—a lot of people might not see it that way. So, I’d cut the interview short, and thankfully, the story never ran.
But in Kitchi Falls, people talked. And I was sure Grunt Ink wasn’t going to be the only rumor circulating about me.
“What can I get you?” Marco asked.
I wasn’t much of a wine guy but could tolerate it. “Dealer’s choice of red for me, and whatever Charlee Donovan and her friends are drinking. Any chance you can find out what that is? They’re here somewhere.”
Marco’s knowing smile wouldn’t go unaccompanied by a comment, I was certain of it. The guy was as much of a ball-buster as anyone I knew. “Charlee Donovan, huh? Didn’t the two of you—”
“Date? Yeah, in high school. That was a long time ago.”
“Mmhmm,” Marco said, pouring a wine.
“Any chance you know what her friends are drinking too?”
“Hold on. Perry, are you serving Charlee and gang? What are they drinking?”
