Bluestone & Vine Read online

  “Right, they were both from Donegal,” Moira said, talking faster now. “Well, it’s her sister I’m trading with. Katie’s meeting me there, to get me all settled in. Ma and Dad loved Katie and they’re excited because it means I get to go see our homeland. I’ll be the first of us kids to go, Seth. You’ve seen more of the world than any of us, and I know it wasn’t in a good way, but surely you can understand my desire to see more of the world than our own backyard.”

  The excitement in her tone was palpable, and he did indeed understand the itch. “So, are you just calling to get my blessing, then? Because it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Moira Aileen?” he said, caution in his tone.

  She rushed right back in. “So, Katie’s sister ... she’s looking for a getaway herself. She’s been to the States before, but this time she really wants to just tuck up and get out of the fray. She was hoping for something longer, like three months. But she agreed to the six weeks, eight at the outside, so that’s probably all it’s going to be.”

  “Okay,” he said, still suspicious.

  “Seattle is a great place—you know I love my hometown—but it’s not really ... you know, tucked away.” He heard her take in a slow breath. “The Blue Ridge Mountains, on the other hand . . .” She let that trail off.

  His mouth dropped open, then snapped right back shut. “You didn’t.”

  “Seth, you’ve got that big, beautiful place out there and God knows, it couldn’t be more remote. It’s perfect! What better place for Pippa to hide out than at a gorgeous mountain winery in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Pippa?”

  “Katie’s sister. And she won’t be in the way, honest. She’s very self-sufficient. And the very last thing she’s going to want to do is draw attention to herself.”

  Then the other part of what Moira had said sunk in. “Hide out? What is she hiding from?” he asked. “An angry ex? Her family? Legal recourse? What’s really going on here, Moira? What did you get yourself involved in?”

  “Wow. What happened to you agreeing that I was smart and responsible? You won’t be harboring a fugitive from justice. Jeez.”

  “I’m not harboring a fugitive from anything at the moment. What is she running from, Mouse?” He waited, but when his sister didn’t say anything, he said, “You do recall that my stint for Uncle Sam was with Army Special Forces. I’m good at interrogation.”

  “Okay, okay!” She let out a long breath. “So, it’s like this. Pippa is Pippa MacMillan.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything, she added, “The Irish singer.” Still nothing from him. “Well, she’s a much bigger star in the UK, like Bono big, but she’s had pretty good crossover success here in the States. She’s a folk singer, so not exactly a household name here, but over there she’s crazy famous.”

  “If she’s some big-time star, why does she need to swap anything? Sounds like she could rent a place anywhere she wanted to go, for as long as she wants.”

  “She could, yes, but over in the UK she’s been pretty hounded by the press. If she signed any kind of lease somewhere, trust me, they’d find out and stake out the place, and it would all be for naught. When I contacted Katie to tell her my idea on a house swap, I asked her if she knew anyone who’d be willing. She and her sister are very close. Katie knew Pippa was going through some stuff and she thought this might be the perfect way for her to duck out for a bit without it being all official. If she just swaps, she can hop a private plane, come here, and no one is the wiser. I mean, I’m sure she’ll tell someone she trusts so no one worries that she’s suddenly vanished,” Moira hurried to add. “She just needs to get away from everything and everyone for a bit. Katie told me she’s had some health issues and—”

  “For the love of God, Mouse, please tell me you’re not sticking me with some stressed out, spoiled celebrity who’s doing her own brand of self-rehab.”

  “It’s not like that,” Moira broke in. Then her tone softened, and grew a lot more serious. “She’s—she had some problems, but not the drug or drinking kind. She had some kind of surgery on her vocal cords a while ago. I don’t know all the details myself, but there’s a lot of speculation about whether she’ll ever sing again. Hence all the press hounding. Katie swore me to secrecy about her coming to Virginia, so you can’t say anything, either.”

  “That’s the least of your concerns at the moment,” he said darkly.

  “Seth,” she said, quietly now. “Please? She needs to rest, and for that to happen, it needs to be somewhere she can be incognito. I need to study, and I want my time abroad before my post-grad, real life as a lawyer kicks in. It’s the perfect swap.”

  “Except for that part where you involved me without even asking.”

  “I’m asking now,” she said, sounding suitably abashed.

  “And no one in her inner circle is going to question your suddenly coming to hang out at her place?”

  “She has a few places. The one I’ll be staying in is in the village where she grew up, which is across the country from where she lives now. Katie said she bought it to have something in her hometown. She only goes there to spend the occasional holiday with her family. No one is there most of the time. Katie is going to meet me there, introduce me around as her friend from college, which is the truth, and say that Pippa was kind enough to loan me her place for a bit to study. It’s all good.”

  “If she’s as big a deal in the UK as you say, what’s to say someone here won’t recognize here? I live in the land of folk music. And social media is global. One tweet and it would be all over in an instant.”

  “Blue Hollow Falls, Virginia, is even smaller than the Irish village I’m going to. Every single person who lives in your little burg knows you, loves you, respects you. If you tell them to help you help her, they will. You know they will. Yes, she could stay anywhere, but nothing would be as perfect, as completely off the grid, as safe for her, as this. I knew she’d be in the best hands possible with you. Please, Seth?” No wheedling or cajoling this time, just Moira straight out, sincerely and honestly asking him.

  Seth shook his head, then rubbed his palm over his nose and down the short length of his beard, squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark sunglasses he still wore. He’d never been good at saying no to her. “When is this big swap taking place?” He had to hold the phone a foot from his ear to keep her squeal of delight from deafening him.

  “That’s the other part,” Moira said, sounding breathless with excitement again. “It all kind of came together really fast—and I did try to call you, but I couldn’t get through, the ringtone sounded all weird and your cell kept going straight to voicemail.”

  “My power got knocked out for a few days. So, you’re saying sooner rather than later?”

  “Wellll . . . you might say that, yes.”

  He felt a nerve twitch in his temple. “As in, when? Exactly?”

  “Well, it was supposed to be next weekend, so I’d have enough time to clear it with you and you’d have enough time to make sure your place doesn’t look like a frat house.”

  “My house is tidy, thank you very much.”

  “I just remember your room growing up, and—”

  “Yeah, well, you can thank the U.S. Army for changing my lifestyle habits. And you said this was for six weeks?”

  “Maybe eight,” she squeaked.

  “Moira, that’s not a little favor. I’ve got a million things to do before the sun finally comes out and the vineyard is back in full swing.”

  Mouse was right in that he did have plenty of room, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the idea of having a houseguest for the next two months. Heck, even two weeks. He didn’t mind helping his sister out, but it occurred to him there were other ways to solve the housing problem. It didn’t sound like money was an issue, so he’d find his unexpected guest some tidy little rental up in the hills, cash under the table if need be, where she could do whatever she wanted and be as priv
ate as necessary, and he’d be on call if she needed help with anything. Win-win. His baby sister didn’t need to know about any of that.

  “She won’t be in your way,” Moira hurried to add. “And who knows, maybe she could be of some help. I’ve never met her, but Katie says she’s a good sport and not at all spoiled by her success. Totally down-to-earth. Oh, and Katie said she loves animals, and their grandparents had a farm growing up, so hey, maybe she can keep your exotic house pet entertained and out of your hair.”

  “Dexter is not a house pet. He’s mostly a pain in my ass.”

  “And yet, you didn’t sell him off when you bought that place.”

  “It was one of the provisions of the purchase.”

  “Didn’t the old woman you bought the place from pass away a few months after you closed? You can’t be legally bound at this point. I could check if you want.”

  “I made a promise, Mouse.”

  “Yes, you did, and I know you always keep them,” she said, love and affection clear in her tone. “One of the many reasons you’re my hero.”

  “Wait,” he said, her earlier statement coming back to him. “You said this Pippa person was ‘supposed to be’ coming next weekend? When is she actually coming?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days.”

  “We’re on the tail end of a monster snowstorm. Ten inches and counting and that’s on top of all the white stuff we still have piled up from the last snowpocalypse.”

  “But it’s the end of March,” she said, stunned.

  “I live above two thousand feet. Snow happens. I’ve had it all the way into April, and I haven’t lived here that long.”

  “It’s still snowing now?”

  “Supposed to taper off this afternoon.”

  He heard her swear, which didn’t happen often.

  “Moira Aileen?”

  “Stop calling me that. You sound like Ma.”

  “I’m going to sound like Dad here in a minute. When is she coming?” he asked again, enunciating each word.

  Just then he heard the high-pitched grinding sound of a small engine echoing through the air outside the barn.

  “Well, it turns out it worked for her, schedule-wise, to charter a flight out yesterday, so she took the opportunity and got on over here. She was going to find someplace to hole up for the week until our swap started, but that might have tipped off reporters. So, I kind of told Katie she could probably tell Pippa to just go straight to Blue Hollow Falls. Since I’m not directly swapping my place with hers, it doesn’t really matter if we go at the exact same time.” Moira said this all in a rush without taking a breath. “But if it’s storming up there, then she’s probably stuck somewhere.”

  Seth walked over to the barn’s sliding-panel doors and nudged one open. He was thankful he still wore the sunglasses so he wasn’t blinded by the sudden, blinding glare of white, or the stinging flakes driven by the wind into his face and beard. Through the blur, he managed to make out a sleek, red and white snowmobile as it popped up over the ridge just south of the barn ... and plowed right into the middle of a huge, windblown snowdrift. “Yeah, she’s stuck somewhere all right,” Seth said, listening as the sound of the motor instantly died out. “I gotta go, Mouse.”

  “Seth, wait, I—”

  “I’ll call you back. I think I need to go dig my new houseguest out of a snowbank. Also? You’ve just used up every last one of your favors until you’re thirty.” He thought he saw arms and legs clad in bright aqua blue poking out of the snowbank as someone appeared to be fighting their way out of the pile of white stuff. “Make that forty.” He ended the call, yanked his hat back on, and was already running into the storm.

  Chapter Two

  Seth was halfway to the snowbank before he realized he’d left his gloves and the liners back in the barn. He was used to working in the cold, so that part he didn’t mind. Digging a snowmobile out of a drift the size of a small mountain with his bare hands? Not so much. “Hold on,” he yelled. “Help’s coming.” He doubted she’d hear him over the howl of the wind, but he had to try. The last thing he wanted her to do was thrash around and end up sinking herself and the machine in any deeper. He just hoped to God she wasn’t injured. Or worse.

  He’d recognized the snowmobile as belonging to Mabry Jenkins, who, until about five minutes ago, Seth had thought of as a fairly intelligent man. Mabry owned a big apple orchard just down the mountain from Seth’s vineyard. Snowmobiles were an easy way to check on the orchards and the vines, or any other part of their extensive properties during the winter. Seth owned one, too. To hear Mabry tell it, most winters didn’t dump enough snow to make it worth taking the covers off the things. This wasn’t one of those winters.

  Seth was already formulating the earful he’d be giving the older man later, as he moved off the path he’d plowed that morning between the barn and the house and waded into snow that was hip deep in places where the wind had caused it to drift. He was wading through it as fast as he could and had gotten close, when what sounded like a faint shriek made his heart momentarily stand still. He swore under his breath and redoubled his efforts, forcing lengthier strides through the snowpack. He was, first and foremost, concerned with the welfare of his new houseguest. But he’d be lying if a small part of him wasn’t also visualizing a headline screaming something along the lines of, NEW WINERY OWNER PERMANENTLY INJURES FAMOUS IRISH FOLK SINGER IN FREAK SNOWMOBILE ACCIDENT! His business would be doomed before he even got it off the ground.

  His baby sister was right when she’d said Seth had seen a lot of the world, most of it bad. Given that, his mind could conjure up in rather alarming detail any number of potential scenarios that awaited him on the far side of that mound of snow, all of them grim.

  So he was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him when he finally made it around to the other side of the wind-whipped bank.

  Standing in the small clearing made by the snowmobile’s entrance into the towering drift stood a mere wisp of a thing, hands planted on narrow hips, and the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen stretched across her pale, gamine face. “Well, that was bloody brilliant, wasn’t it then,” she said on a hoarse gasp, looking almost delighted by her predicament.

  “You’re lucky you’re not bloody everything,” Seth said, knowing he should be relieved, not irritated, but that faint shriek had cost him a good year of his life.

  She’d already pulled off her helmet, so now she dragged off her ski goggles and stuck them inside the helmet, then propped it under one arm. Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “Halloo there,” she said cheerfully, as if they’d just run into each other on a busy street corner. Close up now, with the wind no longer snatching the sounds away, he thought she sounded more throaty than hoarse, making him wonder if that was a result of the surgery Moira had mentioned, or perhaps her natural speaking voice. Before he could decide, she surprised him further by dropping into a deep curtsy, complete with ducked chin and her free hand elegantly extended, then popped upright again. Her smile had a wry twist to it now. “I do love making a grand entrance. Performers, we’re such a shameless lot.” Then she suddenly bent over and set the helmet and goggles on the ground before propping her hands on her thighs as if fighting to catch her breath.

  Seth immediately snapped out of his momentary and quite uncustomary stupor, all but leaping through the last stretch of thigh-deep snow and into the small clearing to lend a hand. “If you need air, tip your head back, not down,” he said, taking her arm in a steady hold. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

  “I’m okay,” she said on a bit of a gasp, “just more winded than I thought from getting tossed on my arse.” She slowly straightened, though, and did as he asked, tipping her face up to the sky, holding his arm for balance. She giggled when the snow pelted her cheeks and chin rather vigorously. “I’m not sure this is helping,” she said dryly, speaking from the corner of her mouth while sputtering the snow
from her lips, but gamely keeping her face tilted up.

  Seth found himself smiling. “I think you’re okay.”

  She tipped her chin forward again, then blinked her eyes open as she turned to look up at him, and he found himself once again at a surprising loss for words. When it came to the opposite sex, there were two things Seth Brogan was most definitely not: he was not shy, and he never found himself tongue-tied. Maybe he’d simply been caught off guard by her being the capricious, glib one. At the moment, however, it wasn’t her charming insouciance that had struck him silent once more.

  She looked like something out of a traditional Irish fairy tale. Fair skin chapped pink by the snow, red hair woven in two simple plaits that fell to just below the nonexistent curve of her breasts, a slight, almost elfin build clearly outlined in her formfitting, bright blue ski jacket and pants. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find there were delicately pointed tips on the ears presently tucked under her wide, black, fleece headband. It was the not-so-traditional Irish part that currently commanded his rapt attention. Her eyes weren’t the bonny sky blue of his sisters or his great-grandmother. No, hers were a downright luminous shade of teal and azure blue he’d only ever seen in the tropical lagoons of Indonesia, deep in the Sumatran rainforest. Exotic rather than Celtic.

  “Penguin got your tongue?” she asked, and the twinkle in her smile reached those eyes, setting the deep teal pools to sparkling.

  “Sorry,” he said, trying to shake off their hold on him. That husky note in her voice, so at odds with her gamine face and petite size, had an equally entrancing effect on him. Maybe it was the unusual feeling of being caught badly off balance, or her rather blithe demeanor given the heart-stopping entrance she’d just made, but he sounded a little testier than was called for when he added, “But what in the blue blazes was Mabry thinking, letting you commandeer one of those things? And where is he?” Seth hadn’t heard the whine of another snowmobile, meaning the old farmer had allowed a complete stranger to simply hie herself up the side of a steep, boulder-strewn mountain covered in more than a few feet of snow. It was beyond idiocy. It was downright negligent.