Falling for the Wrong Brother Read online

Griffin had never considered himself much of a gentleman, but for her he wanted to make everything perfect.

  He held up a hand and waved when she looked in his direction, and the smile that lit her face made his heart stammer.

  He wanted to be a man who always deserved that smile.

  “Hi,” she said, her grin turning shy as she approached him. “I hope you don’t mind a surprise visit.” She glanced around, then reached up and brushed a quick, nervous kiss across his lips.

  He felt the touch all the way to his toes.

  “I’m always happy to see you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, chuckling when a couple of wolf whistles came from the men taking a break for lunch. “But I didn’t think you were comfortable coming out here.”

  “I’m not,” she admitted, her cheek resting against his chest. “I parked at the office and walked over here so I could hide in the trees if I saw your mom or Trevor.”

  “You don’t need to hide from anyone.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Especially not my mom.”

  “Liar,” she whispered. “But thank you for saying that.”

  There was a note of sadness in her voice that made pain slice across his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He cupped her face in his palms and tipped up her head until she met his gaze. Tears swam in her eyes. “Liar,” he said softly, swiping his thumbs across her cheeks.

  She sniffed and flashed him a watery smile. “Is there someplace we could go and talk?” She looked over her shoulder. “Somewhere a little more private?”

  He took her hand and led her down the flagstone staircase toward the vineyard. Soon they were surrounded on all sides by vines, with only the fertile earth below them and the cloudless sky above. It was like a maze, although Griffin knew his way through the rows of grapes as well as he knew his own smile.

  As much as he resented his dad for withholding love from him for so many years, he could still appreciate what Dave Stone had built.

  In the fields, more than any other place on earth, Griffin understood the meaning of the word legacy. He glanced down at Maggie, smiled at the look on her face—pure wonder. It was a gift to share this with her, and he could tell she appreciated it. He wouldn’t give her up without a fight.

  “Tell me you’re not breaking up with me,” he said, skimming his fingers over the grape leaves as they walked. “We’ve only been on three official dates, and I don’t think lunch counts. We haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet.” He stopped and turned to face her, bending his knees so they were at eye level. “I have a feeling that with us the good stuff is going to be great.”

  “My grammy came to see me today,” she said, tugging her lower lip between her teeth.

  Griffin straightened. “That’s a mood dampener.”

  “No doubt,” Maggie agreed.

  “Trevor confronted me at the work site a few minutes before you arrived. I’m guessing they conveyed similar messages.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I’m glad I missed him,” she admitted.

  “Tell me about your grandma.”

  “She told me I’m tarnishing my reputation beyond repair by seeing you so quickly after...”

  “Trevor gave me a similar version of the same message.” Griffin turned, unable to look at her. Unwilling to know if she was walking away. He plucked a bud from a vine and rolled it between his fingers. In a couple of months, they’d be working all hours to ensure the harvest went off without a hitch. Would he still be in Stonecreek when autumn rolled around?

  He couldn’t imagine leaving Maggie, but it might be too difficult to stay if they weren’t together.

  “Why is it selfish for me to want to be happy?”

  “It’s not selfish, Maggie May. It’s human.”

  He felt her at his back a moment later, the heat of her body as she encircled his waist with her arms. “I’ve made this town my life,” she said against the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t regret it, but I want more.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her to continue.

  “I want us, Griffin. It doesn’t make sense, and the timing is horrible.” She laughed softly. “Honestly, up until that moment when you carried me into my house, I could have sworn I hated you.”

  “You and a lot of people around here.”

  “You’re a different man now.”

  “Am I?” He’d thought that but every run-in with his brother left Griffin feeling like the same hothead he’d always been.

  Maggie released her hold on him and he turned. “Or you’re the same man,” she suggested, “only better.”

  “I’m trying.”

  He reached for her and she twined her arms around his neck, their kiss lighting his body on fire.

  “I want you,” he whispered when he could finally stand to drag his mouth away from hers.

  She made a noise of agreement, soft and sexy, and he felt it all the way to his toes.

  “How sad is it,” she whispered against his throat, “that we both live with our parents?”

  He chuckled. “It’s an issue, but we have options. I don’t want to rush you or what’s between us, Maggie. You’re too important to me.”

  She tipped back her head and gazed up at the sky above them. “It feels like we’re in our own little world out here. I could get used to this.”

  “Me, too. Unfortunately, I have to head back to the construction site. The architect is stopping by this afternoon to tweak the plans.” He wished they could hide out like this forever. “I have an idea. Can you get away Saturday for the whole day?”

  “There’s a campaign event in the morning,” she answered. “But after that I’m free.”

  “I’ll pick you up at noon,” he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. He laced his fingers with hers again and they headed for the end of the row.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  She groaned. “You can’t keep surprising someone who’s a type A control freak. I need to know what to wear.”

  “Something I can take off you easily,” he said, squeezing her fingers.

  “Oh.” She giggled. “Well, that’s straightforward.”

  He glanced down at her, inordinately proud to put a smile on her face after her mood when she’d shown up at the vineyard. “You type A people like straightforward, right?”

  “I like you,” she whispered and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again.

  They made it to the top of the hill and rounded the corner of the tasting room building. A line of men stood just outside the front door, a few on their phones while the rest talked among themselves. “Does everyone take lunch at the same time?” Maggie asked.

  “Not usually.” A man Griffin didn’t recognize approached them. “Griffin Stone?”

  Griffin nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  The man held out a single sheet of paper. “I’m shutting you down.”

  “Are you joking?” Griffin took the paper, scanned it and muttered a curse. “This is totally bogus.”

  “The building department doesn’t see it that way.” The man shrugged. “You can file an appeal downtown. Have a good day.”

  Anger and frustration roared through Griffin. “Did you know about this?” he demanded, waving the paper in front of Maggie.

  She looked from him to the man climbing into the Prius parked at the edge of the construction site. “Know what? Who was that?”

  Griffin swore again. “I got a cease and desist by order of the town council.” He pushed the paper toward her. “More specifically, it comes from the office of the mayor.”

  Maggie skimmed the two-paragraph letter that stated the Stones couldn’t rebuild on a designated historic site without approval from the Stonecreek Historical Society. Sh
e looked up at Griffin. “Did you get the permit?”

  He threw up his hands. “What permit?”

  “The one referenced here from the historical society.”

  “I pulled a construction permit,” he said, working hard not to grit his teeth. “As one does for a construction project. All this historic site business is nonsense. It’s my family’s property.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know?”

  She shook her head. “No, and I apologize for that. But you have to suspend work until it’s resolved.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “The town has rules, Griffin. Even your family has to follow them.”

  “This isn’t about my family.” He plucked the paper out of her fingers. “Look at the list of names on the historical society letterhead. Your grandmother and her friends. She’s got it in for us.”

  Maggie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. “That’s not what it’s about,” she insisted, but there was no fight in her tone.

  He shook his head, amazed at how quickly his blissful bubble from minutes earlier had popped. “I need to make some calls. I’ve got subcontractors ready to go, and if this holds us up for any length of time, it’s going to throw the whole schedule out of whack.”

  “I’m sorry, Griffin.” Maggie’s voice was quiet, defeated.

  He took a breath, then reached out a finger and traced it down her cheek, as always marveling at the softness of her skin. “We say that to each other far too often.”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “I’m fine. Go deal with the letter.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon, Maggie May.”

  He waited until she’d disappeared around the side of the building before pulling out his phone. No matter what Maggie said, this had something to do with his last name and Vivian Spencer’s need to control everything that happened in Stonecreek.

  But Griffin wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do any longer. He’d find a way to fix this and keep construction on track, even if meant making enemies out of every person in this town.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I don’t have time for this today, Morgan.”

  Maggie stalked away from the principal’s office at the high school, hands clenched at her sides, shooting daggers at her sister out of the corner of her eye.

  Instead of contrition, Morgan glared right back. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “Mr. Peterson called me when he couldn’t reach Dad. Was I supposed to ignore it?”

  “Dad obviously did.”

  “He’s working in the studio.” Maggie threw up her hands. “You know he doesn’t bring a phone out there.”

  Morgan snorted. “Trust me. I know. He barely remembers to change clothes when he’s deep in a project. It used to be embarrassing when I’d have friends come over. Now I don’t bother.”

  Maggie pushed open the metal door that opened to the school’s front staircase. Clouds billowed across the sky, a summer storm imminent. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to calm her already-frayed nerves.

  “Why, Mo-mo?” she asked, turning to face her sister. “Summer school’s not even in session. Mr. Peterson just happened to be here. If he hadn’t, the janitor who found you might have called the police.”

  “It was a dare,” Morgan mumbled.

  “A dare.” Maggie shook her head. “Who would dare you to spray paint the first-floor lockers?”

  “Friends.”

  “Who are these so-called friends?”

  “You don’t know them.”

  “With antics like that I don’t want to.” Maggie reached out and tugged on the end of her sister’s blue braid. “Why do you hang around people like that?”

  “They’re fun,” Morgan answered, although she didn’t sound convinced at the moment.

  “Then maybe they’ll join you for the fun of scrubbing the girls’ locker room.”

  “I sprayed one letter,” Morgan said, a whine in her voice. “I should have to clean one locker in return.”

  “Nice try.” Maggie headed down the steps toward her car, which was parked in front of the school. “You’re grounded anyway. You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

  “Dad didn’t notice.”

  “He’s working,” Maggie insisted. “You can’t fault him for the time he spends on his sculptures.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Is this about Mom? Do you need to talk to someone?”

  Morgan’s eyes darkened, mimicking the charcoal sky above them. “She’s been gone for eleven years. Why would this have anything to do with her?”

  “Because it’s still hard to lose your mom, Mo-mo. That doesn’t change. I know because I miss her all the time.”

  “It’s not her,” Morgan mumbled, but Maggie didn’t believe her. She loved her sister so much but had no idea how to break through the attitude she’d taken to wearing like armor. Unfortunately, she also had other issues to deal with today.

  Maggie waited until Morgan had climbed into the Volkswagen Jetta and fastened her seat belt. “Well, you’ve earned yourself a visit with Grammy,” she said, hitting the button on the door locks.

  “No way,” Morgan said automatically. “You’re going to send me to Grammy for punishment?”

  Maggie backed the car out of the parking space, then headed through the empty lot and onto the road that led to the Miriam Inn. “Lucky for you, this is my business with her. I need to stop in at the weekly historical society meeting.”

  “Going to polish each other’s golden crowns?” Morgan asked with a snicker.

  “Not exactly.”

  It was only five minutes to the far side of Main Street where the hotel was situated. Maggie had been almost there when she’d received the call from Principal Peterson. She’d returned to her office after leaving the vineyard, pulling up meeting records from the town’s computer database. She wanted to believe the cease and desist order Griffin received hadn’t been a personal vendetta, but she had a difficult time finding any precedence for the historical society inserting itself into any past remodeling projects in town.

  Mostly the group was concerned with paint colors and preserving the Victorian-style homes that made up the downtown area.

  Interference like she’d witnessed at Harvest was something new, and it made her temper spike to think her grandmother might be purposely thwarting the project that meant so much to Griffin.

  She understood why Dave Stone would have applied for historic designation. He’d been in the process of renovating the old building that housed the tasting room, and the grants available for a historic building would have gone a long way to fund the project.

  “Are you mad at Grammy?” Morgan demanded as Maggie pulled to the curb in front of the inn. “Or is this still about me?”

  “What?”

  “To quote Ben, you look like you’re ready to ‘shank’ someone.”

  “When did this family become so bloodthirsty?” She turned off the car, then flipped down the visor to check her appearance. Pale skin, wide, uncertain eyes, a slight tremble of her lips. All as expected. “You can stay here if you want,” she told Morgan. “I’ll roll down the windows so you get some fresh air.”

  “I’m coming with you. You look like you need backup.”

  Maggie sucked in a shaky breath. “Thanks, Mo.”

  They entered the Miriam Inn, with its muted, tasteful walls and thick Aubusson carpet. A few people in the lobby looked up and waved politely. Normally, Maggie received a warm welcome, and the change stung but she was getting oddly used to not being the town’s golden girl. It was liberating to just be herself and not have to worry about constantly keeping her perfect mask in place.

  “Mary Margaret,” her grandmother ca
lled as Maggie and Morgan entered the conference room down the hall from the lobby. “How lovely of you to stop by. We were discussing the upcoming debate.”

  “Hey, Grammy, great to see you,” Morgan muttered under her breath. “It’s like I’m invisible to her.”

  “I see you, Morgan,” Vivian said, her tone slightly sharper. “You’re difficult to miss with that hair.” She sniffed and turned to the other people at the table. “I don’t understand trends these days.”

  Maggie placed a supportive hand on Morgan’s arm. “Your hair is lovely.”

  Morgan leaned over and whispered, “I’m supposed to be giving you support.”

  “We’re getting to that part,” Maggie assured her. “I need to talk to you,” she said to their grandmother, then let her gaze travel around the table. “All of you.”

  “Sit down, dear.” Vivian patted the empty seat next to her. “Would you like tea or a brownie? We were just discussing Joellyn George’s recent house project.”

  The man seated across the table made a dismissive sound. “She painted it a garish red, like it’s some kind of brothel or whatnot.”

  “That’s why we approved the town’s official color palette last year,” Vivian assured him. “Maggie signed off on it as mayor so we’re well within our rights to require Joellyn to repaint the house.”

  “Can we talk about those awful streamers she has draped across the front porch?” Lucy Winters asked, wrinkling her nose. Lucy was a few years younger than Vivian, and liked to think of herself as edgy because her left earlobe was double pierced. Her husband was Stonecreek’s leading family practice doctor, which gave her a certain amount of clout in the community. “We should demand she remove those.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “They’re Tibetan prayer flags.”

  “They’re tacky,” Lucy said.

  The more Maggie thought about the town and how they’d been running it in the same way since practically the beginning of time, she realized how out of touch and provincial she’d allowed things to become around here. Stonecreek wasn’t Mayberry and they weren’t living in the fifties. She needed to start leading based on what she knew would be right for everyone, not just the small group of civic leaders who had control fisted in their collective hand.