Page 3 of The Spare

Chapter Two

Sam

“Nice,” my friend Shepherd jibes, shaking his head as I walk past him toward my office. “Hope Dad doesn’t catch you rolling in here wearing the same thing you had on last night.” He chuckles. He points toward my chest. “Are those dog paw prints?”

“Fuck you, Shep. A true friend would’ve stopped me before I got that wasted.”

“You didn’t seem too worse for wear. Hell, you strolled out of there with a girl on each arm, smiling like you’d hit the lottery. I assumed since the alcohol wasn’t drowning your sorrows, they might do the trick.”

I need to win the damn lottery. And not the female kind.

I drag my palm down my stubbled face. “Whatever. You’re just pissed I didn’t share.” Ha. Not that I remember participating beyond watching the two women pleasure themselves. I’m pretty sure driving them to Sebastian’s house was the limit of my involvement. I likely passed out before either of them remembered I was there. Lord knows, I was too inebriated to perform well for one woman, much less two.

Shep snorts. “Maybe. But I knew damn well my dad would have a list of shit to do here a mile long once I clocked in this morning. There was no way I was going to tackle that after a sleepless night of debauchery.”

Stretching my back in an attempt to shake the haze of last night’s regrettable choices, not to mention this morning’s escape from my weary body, I gaze about the property. “Where is your old man?”

Shep’s dad, Hank, or Old Man Morris as I’ve grown up calling him, has worked here since I was a kid. My grandfather respected his ability to cultivate this vineyard and turn it into the place it was in its prime. But the seeds can’t thrive in a drought, financial or otherwise.

“Dad? Who knows? But for a guy complaining about his arthritis all the damn time, he sure is stealthy if I decide to take a nap near the tree line just beyond the vines.”

A chuckle escapes. “You’re right. Better get to my office and change before he discovers I’m late.”

Shep gives me a playful slap on the back as I walk up the steps to the main tasting room doors. He’s been my wingman for years. I need to remind him, from now on, those days are behind me. His position requires a new job description. Gone are the days of helping me land a beautiful woman to end the night with. Now he needs to stop me from slipping back into familiar bad habits.

“Good of you to show up today.”

I wince. So much for hiding my late arrival.

“Decided to go for a morning run before work?” Old Man Morris grouses.

Really? Sebastian didn’t waste any time calling here to fill him in on all the dirty details. Hell, I never ratted him out to our parents when we were teens. But then again, they were never home and couldn’t have given a damn what we did. But there’s no sense focusing on Bas. I’m not a teenager anymore. I need to stop acting like the damn class clown.

“I’m not sure we can afford it, but you might need to hire an accountant.” My jaw ticks at his words. There’s no sense in bothering to answer him. I know full well where this conversation is going. “Because you must’ve missed the part yesterday going over the books where your grandfather’s vineyard is in the toilet. Since you can still party all night without a care in the world.”

Hell, it’s because of Sutter Creek’s financial state that I went drinking in the first place. I spent the entire afternoon in the vineyard office staring at spreadsheets that look like a foreign language, the peeling walls closing in on me until I couldn’t breathe.

“It would be a lot easier on everyone involved if you’d simply let your brother take over the place.” I shoot him a glare. Allowing my uber-rich, successful, older brother to step in to save the day is the very last thing I want. The sanctimonious S.O.B. would love to waltz in and claim credit for turning things around.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother. But I’ve had to listen to everyone around me wax poetic about his success since I can remember. Jesus, he’s been doing everything better than me since birth. No exaggeration. My mom has told the story on repeat to anyone who’d listen regarding the nightmare the twenty-four-hour long labor with me had been compared to Sebastian’s peaceful arrival. He was a better student, at the top of his class in medical school, a well-renowned hand surgeon, and now the owner of a respected art gallery.

Sebastian has the Midas touch, and no one ever stops gushing about him. And as if his career accolades aren’t enough, he managed to marry the love of his life and start a family I’m actually envious of. And given the example set for us by our self-serving parents, this still mystifies me because I have no plans to ever settle down. Truth be told, I hadn’t thought either of us would consider marriage and children.

Leave it to Sebastian to provide one more way for me to fall short.

“Thanks for the pep talk, old man,” I grumble, dragging my hands through my hair as I make my way back to the office. There has to be some way to salvage this place. There just has to. If I can’t find a solution by the end of the day, I’ll reach out to Pop’s lawyer tomorrow.

There had been rumors my grandfather had set aside a trust specifically for Sutter Creek. Maybe if I can prove I’m serious about trying to repair the damage my parents have done to the place, he’ll allow me to obtain the funds earmarked for the winery. I haven’t been able to locate any additional contracts with Hanover restaurants or shops for wine delivery. God knows I’ve searched. And there isn’t one single legal document in the Vineyard files or safe that could provide an injection of funds.

What I did find was stacks upon stacks of unpaid bills.

After changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a Sutter Creek T-shirt, I sit back down at my desk, hoping by some miracle I can locate a winning lottery ticket in this mess. I’d poured what little money I had left in my savings into the place months ago. Now I flinch every time the phone rings, in case it’s the bank coming to foreclose on our property.

Bang.

The heavy pine door to my office slams against the wooden frame so hard the glass panes rattle. My head springs up to find my brother, Sebastian, standing before me, looking like he’s on the warpath. Shit. I’d hoped he would’ve been too tired from his family trip to waste precious energy on me.

I spring to my feet. There’s no use. The only way out is through the doorway he’s standing in. Throwing my hands up in surrender, I plead, “You’re right, you’re right. I screwed up. Again. I swear I’ll never do it again, Bas.”