At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,49

help if you were there. You could just wait until she left and then you’d be free.”

“The things I do for love.” He sighs dramatically.

He doesn’t mean it to, he’s just being a smartass, but for just a moment it makes my knees go weak. No. Bad Sienna. Down, girl. I can’t want Donovan to love me. That’s sailing into dangerous waters. Here there be monsters, as the ancient maps used to say.

He grabs the coffee and drains half the cup in one long gulp. “Right! I’ll be down in five minutes.”

He emerges wearing jeans, sneakers, and a Ribaldi Winery T-shirt that molds over the swell of his biceps as if it were painted on. I try to ignore the flutter of my heart. Where did he get that? They sell them at the winery and at gift shops in town. It’s kind of awesome that he bought one.

We head over the vineyard, trudging through the dewy grass. In the distance, mists wreathe the hillsides.

“There’s our friend.” Carrie’s standing in the vineyard, chatting with Pietro and his sons. I’m sure she’s interrogating him, trying to get the dirt on Donovan and me, looking for any angle she can find, but there’s nothing that he could, or would, tell her. He doesn’t know about our fake deal, and if he did, he wouldn’t snitch on us.

We arrive at a circular, bare patch of dirt. Pietro hands us each a pair of gloves.

Carrie rakes her gaze over Donovan and me. “How’s married life treating you?” she asks, poison sweet.

“A dream come true.” I flash a look of gooey affection at Donovan. “Team Rilocke!” I hold up a fist, and he fist-bumps me.

“Team Rilocke?” Carrie spits out the word like it’s a bug that’s flown into her mouth, but she scribbles it down in her notebook. “So. I know we’ve covered this before, but just so I can have it in your own words. What’s this cow horn business about?”

I recite what my aunt taught me when I was younger. I’ve sat through easily a dozen of these interviews. The cow manure mixture is called Preparation 500, for reasons no-one is quite sure of, and it’s applied in the spring to encourage root growth. It’s based on a system created by Austrian philosopher Rudolph Steiner, who was active in the early 20th century, and is now practiced worldwide by farmers and vintners who want to employ Earth-friendly practices in their agriculture.

Donovan’s wandered off to talk to Pietro. I keep going on about the history of biodynamics until I see her eyes glaze over, and then, out of spite, I talk some more.

She leans in, her gaze intense. “This entire thing stinks worse than your cow horns,” she informs me.

“So you’ve said. Many times.”

“I’m not just talking about your obviously fake marriage. This whole property deal. There’s something very off about it. Have you investigated Ferguson Property Holdings? What do you know about Liam Ferguson?”

I sigh heavily. “My family and the Witlockes have both done their due diligence. I’ve looked over the subdivision plans. We all have. They’re on file with the planning department. It’s a sustainable, ecologically friendly, solar-powered subdivision that will bring five hundred families into the area, with minimal impact on the environment. It benefits absolutely everyone. The only reason you’re having such a hissy fit over all of this is because among those who benefit the most is your ex-husband. Get over yourself, Carrie. Move on.” I spin on my heel and stalk off to grab a shovel.

Everyone else grabs their shovels and starts digging up the horns. Carrie snaps some more pictures, her expression sour.

Finally she leaves us to our work, driving off in an angry squeal of tires. Pietro shows Donovan how to mix the cow manure with the rainwater that we’ve gathered and stored in a tank.

Before I know it, a couple of hours have gone by. Donovan and I are working side by side with the backpack sprayers, fertilizing the Vincent Van Goat block. “I really appreciate the show of fake camaraderie,” I tell him.

He winks at me. “For you, babe, I don’t have to fake it.”

“Oh my God. Tell me you don’t use lines like that in bars.”

“No, I pretty much just stand there and look handsome.” Then he smiles down at me, eyes sparkling. “Or I used to. Bachelor days are over now.”

That just earns him an eye-roll.

“Carrie’s gone,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do any more.”

“Nah, I got this. I like