Falling for the Wrong Brother Page 4
“Do you think...” She paused, looking for the right words. When none came she simply blurted, “Was Trevor that desperate to not marry me?”
“Maggie, don’t go there.” Brenna wrung her hands in front of her waist. She’d changed from her bridesmaid’s dress into a pair of black yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt but other than her blotchy face, she was still a knockout. A few inches taller than Maggie’s five-foot-six-inch frame, Brenna had curves for days. Combined with her olive skin and thick caramel-colored hair, men noticed her wherever she went.
“I need to know. Was he using the affair to force me to walk away so he didn’t have to?”
“I believe so.”
The simple statement was a physical blow. It was bad enough to believe that Trevor had betrayed her because he’d found his soul mate in another woman, but hearing that he just couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Maggie? It was too much.
“You don’t think they’re in love?”
Brenna shook her head, a strand of shiny hair escaping the elastic band at the back of her hair.
“He should have told me he didn’t want to go through with it.” Maggie pressed her fingers to her temples. If she really examined the last couple of months, she could see the cracks in her relationship with Trevor turning into gaping chasms. They hadn’t been intimate since...well, far too long. He’d shown no interest in wedding plans, which she’d attributed to him being a man and nothing more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Brenna repeated, and her voice cracked. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Maggie sighed. She didn’t want to end the friendship, despite Brenna’s dishonesty. Trevor was the one to blame in all this. She’d never admit it out loud, but the more she thought about a life without him at her side, the more relief spilled through her.
Had she really gotten so caught up in planning a wedding that she ignored the fact she didn’t want to marry the man whose ring she wore? What did that say about her and how much she’d allowed her life to be dictated by what her family and the town expected of her?
“I’ll call you next week,” she offered, because the breach of trust still stung.
“Okay,” Brenna agreed, swiping at her cheeks. “If you need anything...”
“Time,” Maggie said quietly. “I need time.”
“You deserve better than him,” Brenna whispered, then turned and left Maggie alone in the empty reception hall once again.
“You’re also too nice,” a deep voice said from the back of the hall. “I remember that now.”
She turned to see Griffin emerging from the door that led to the kitchen area.
Annoyance pricked Maggie’s spine at the subtle condemnation in his words. As if being nice was a bad thing. “She apologized, and your brother’s the one who cheated. What would you have me do?”
“Tell her she’s a sorry excuse for a friend,” Griffin suggested. “Yell and scream at her for not having your back.”
Maggie grabbed another pile of napkins and shoved them into the box. “Or give her a black eye like you did to Trevor?”
One side of Griffin’s mouth hitched up as he examined the knuckles on one hand. “It felt good.”
“I told you I don’t need you to defend me. Walking away from the wedding was my choice.” She stalked forward, maneuvering around tables until she stood toe-to-toe with him. “What are you doing here anyway? Do you have some new sixth sense for predicting my lowest moments so you can watch and gloat?” She couldn’t conceal the anger in her tone. Maggie always kept a tight hold on her emotions, but with Griffin she seemed unable to hide anything.
“Mom sent me over to pick up the cases of wine.”
She stilled as he reached out a finger and traced it along the curve of her cheek. The touch was featherlight, and she resisted the urge to lean into it. Maggie had lived every day of her life surrounded by family, friends and the town she loved...until today. Now she was alone, and the solitude chafed at her in a way that made her feel weak. She hated being weak. “Brenna was right about one thing,” Griffin told her. “My brother doesn’t deserve you, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your tears.”
“It’s my canceled wedding,” Maggie said, making her voice light. “And I’ll cry if I want to.”
Griffin’s green eyes softened, but he dropped his hand as if he realized the moment was too intimate. “What next?”
“Back to life.” Maggie stepped away. “We weren’t scheduled to leave on the honeymoon for a few weeks, so Monday it’s business as usual at city hall.”
“Right.” Griffin gave a slight nod. “You’re Stonecreek’s incumbent mayor.”
The thought of facing everyone at work and the members of the town council made a sick pit open in Maggie’s gut. “When do you take off?”
Griffin didn’t answer, so Maggie turned back to him, holding the cardboard box in front of her like a shield. He watched her, his gaze unreadable. “What?”
One broad shoulder lifted and lowered. “I may not be leaving for a while.”
She concentrated on breathing, feeling like a thousand-pound weight sat on her chest. “How long is a while?”
Another shrug. “My mom wants me to build the new tasting room at the vineyard, and I’ve tentatively agreed. I owe her since the fire in the original building was my fault.”
“It was a stupid accident. Everyone knew that.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I think Dad never rebuilt because he wanted the reminder of how badly I’d failed him. Mom claims it’s important someone in the family oversees the project. We still need to work out the particulars, but I might be around a few months.”
“Oh.” Her lips formed the word as her brain scrambled for purchase. Griffin Stone back in town. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t affect her, not after everything that had happened today. But it did, and her reaction to him made all the other chaos in her life lose focus.
The only thing she could see was the tall, handsome man who’d come to her defense—even when she’d told him not to—standing in front of her.
“I’m going to start loading the wine,” he said, still studying her. “See you around, Maggie.”
She gave a small wave, then continued packing up boxes, telling herself Griffin didn’t matter to her.
Too bad her heart refused to be convinced.
Chapter Four
Monday morning Griffin stood on the hilltop that overlooked the estate vineyard, emotion pinching his chest as he breathed in the musky scent of earth. The rows of vines spread across the property, neat and orderly like soldiers in a procession.
As a kid he’d spent hours running through the fields, measuring the progress of the seasons by the height of the vines and the colors of the grapes. The vineyard below him was called Inception, the first Dave Stone planted when he’d converted the farm, which had been marginally successful at best, to a vineyard.
Griffin had loved everything about the land until it became clear that his father didn’t think him worthy to be involved in the family business. It had never made sense to Griffin. He was the older son, and he felt a connection to the vines in his heart, unlike Trevor, who’d been more interested in the flashy side of wine making only—the marketing and brand positioning.
But his dad had ever only found fault with the innovations and ideas Griffin suggested. Even the way Griffin hand harvested the grapes was never right. Eventually he’d stopped trying, at least when his father was around. He’d watch the workers during the harvest, pretending he was too interested in his own life to care about the vineyard.
It had always been a lie.
“Jana told me she’d convinced you to return,” a voice said from behind him. “I wasn’t sure I believed her.”
Griffin turned as Marcus Sanchez, Harvest Vineyards’ current CEO, walked up from the direction of the ma
in office.
He held out a hand and Marcus shook it with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Only temporarily,” Griffin clarified.
Marcus inclined his head. He was nearing fifty but still had the build of a younger man, with broad shoulders and a thick crop of dark hair. “You’ve been away from home too long, Grif. You belong on this land.”
Griffin swallowed and kicked at a patch of dirt. Strange how much those words meant to him after all this time. Marcus had worked at Harvest for almost fifteen years, so he’d had a front-row seat to Griffin’s teenage battles with Dave Stone.
Although he worked for Dave, Marcus had always been kind to Griffin, unlike many of the employees who seemed to feel like part of their loyalty to Dave included shunning Griffin. “Mom says she’d be lost without you around here. Thanks for taking care of her.”
Marcus flashed a grin. “Your mother can take care of herself, and we both know it.”
“I’m surprised she was able to lure you away from the grapes.” He inclined his head toward Marcus’s pressed jeans and dress shirt. “You clean up nice.”
“Jana is a difficult woman to refuse.” Marcus adjusted his collar with tentative fingers as if he was still unused to having his shirts starched. He’d come to work as a picker and quickly risen through the ranks until being promoted to vineyard manager a decade earlier.
“Tell me about it.” Along with most everyone associated with Harvest, Griffin had expected Trevor to be made CEO after their father’s death. Instead, Jana convinced Marcus to move from the fields into the corner office.
“Have you visited the winery yet?” Marcus asked.
Griffin shook his head. “I walked the fields but haven’t made it inside yet. The expansion looks great.”
“We took cuttings from the original vines to plant the newest vineyard. Your mother named it Promise.” Marcus nodded. “The entire operation is certified sustainable now, and we’ve started bottling with eco-friendly glass and managed to eliminate some of the high-risk chemicals that were originally used for fertilization and in the pesticides.”
“How’s that going?” Griffin felt himself clench his hands into fists.
“It’s making Harvest more responsible and adding to the efficiency of the operation. Just like you told your dad years ago.”
Griffin blew out a breath. “I’m sure the technology has come a long way since then.”
“It was still your idea,” Marcus said softly. “And a good one.”
“Thanks.” The tension coiling through Griffin eased slightly. The argument about protecting the long-term health of the land had been one of the last he’d had with his father before their final, irrevocable falling-out.
Griffin had been a senior in high school and planning to go to college to study viticulture. Back then he’d still believed if he could prove to his father that he could offer value to the business that Dave Stone would find a place for him. But his dad had brushed aside the suggestions, asserting that it was too soon to worry about the future when they were still trying to establish the brand.
“There’s more to be done,” Marcus suggested quietly.
“You mean besides rebuilding the tasting room?” Griffin massaged a hand against the back of his neck. “Mom told me about her plans for a restaurant and guest cottages on the property.”
Marcus shook his head. “I’m talking about additional sustainability measures. Making Harvest Vineyards not just a steward of the land but a true innovator in the industry. You could help.”
“Not me. I’m here for the construction project and nothing more.”
“You know this land and you have a sense of the business.”
“Maybe I did back in the day, but not anymore. I work with my hands.”
“That’s what wine making is.” Marcus held out his weathered hands, turning them over to expose the calluses on his palms.
Griffin chuckled. “You haven’t gone soft yet.”
“I spend time in the fields whenever I can.” Marcus lifted a heavy brow. “I could do more if I had someone to take over the business end.”
“You have Trevor.”
“I’m not talking about designing labels and schmoozing distributors.”
“You can’t deny it’s part of the industry.”
“Your brother is immensely talented, but he doesn’t see the big picture of the legacy of what your dad started here. He never did, Grif.”
“But Dad wanted him, not me.” Griffin pressed his lips together, hating the bitterness in his tone. He was a grown man. You’d think he’d be over not being his daddy’s favorite by now. But it was more than that.
Marcus bent forward, plucked a blade of grass from the hillside and twirled it between his fingers. “You’re a lot like your father.”
“You don’t have to say that.” Griffin shook his head. “Hell, I don’t want to be anything like him...except...”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. Marcus knew. In a moment of weakness when Griffin was seventeen, after a blowout with his dad, he’d escaped to the fields and found Marcus carefully pruning a row of vines. He’d admitted out loud his biggest fear in life—that Dave Stone was not his biological father.
Neither of his parents had ever given him any indication that was the truth, although it would explain so much about his tense relationship with his dad. Griffin knew his parents’ courtship had been a whirlwind and although he’d never had the guts to ask his mom outright, he’d often wondered if there had been someone else before his dad.
“He was your father,” Marcus said. “Don’t doubt it. You got all your bullheadedness from him.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Griffin said, even though they both knew it did. “You’ve done a great job around here. You don’t need my help.” He turned to survey the area where the new building was set to be constructed. “I’ve gone over the plans from the architect. There are a few things I’d like to tweak, but it’s a solid design.”
“We still need to get approval from the town council’s development committee.”
Griffin nodded. He’d worked with enough building departments over the past couple of years to understand what hoops they’d need to jump through.
“Everyone knows the fire was an accident.” Marcus opened his fingers and the blade of grass fluttered to the ground. The words were a direct echo of what Maggie had told him.
“Dad didn’t,” Griffin muttered, repeating his stock answer. “I still can’t believe he never rebuilt the tasting room. Using the lobby of the office for all these years makes Harvest Vineyards look like an amateur operation. Visitors expect an experience when they tour a winery, not being shoved into a cramped room.”
Marcus sighed. “Your dad was too stubborn for his own good. We can thank Trevor for pushing the idea of building a new tasting room. It’s part of his overall branding strategy.”
“My brother’s not stupid,” Griffin said. Then he added, “At least when it comes to the business. His personal life is another story.”
“I thought Maggie called off the wedding?”
“Let’s just say she had more reason than just cold feet.”
Marcus groaned. “Then Trevor’s a fool. He isn’t going to find a better woman than Maggie Spencer.”
“Agreed.” Griffin pressed three fingers to his chest where it tightened at the thought of seeing Maggie again. He had no business with her, and it was stupid to go anywhere near her for a dozen reasons, not the least of which was the canceled wedding. But erring on the side of caution was never his strong suit.
“I’ve got a conference call in a few minutes with one of our distributors.” Marcus glanced at his watch. “Let me know if there’s anything you need to move things along with construction. And when you’re ready for more, my office is open to you.”
Marcus smiled. “Whatever it takes.”
* * *
Brenna practically jumped out of her chair when the door to the main office opened. She breathed a sigh of relief as Marcus Sanchez walked through. Marcus was not quite six feet tall, with the lean frame of a man who’d spent most of his life working the fields.
She knew he missed the vines now that he was in the office most days. He favored pressed jeans or khakis with tailored shirts but had extras hanging in the hall closet since he often returned to the office after lunch with dirt stains on his shirts.
Whether clean or rumpled, Marcus had the air of a man who tolerated nothing less than perfection, which made him all the more intimidating to Brenna. She knew she was outwardly pretty but her inside was a jumble of insecurity and downright fear. Fear that she’d disappoint her daughter. Fear that she’d mess up her life more than she already had. Fear that she’d never find the happiness she so desperately craved.
“Are you okay?” His gentle brown eyes searched her face like he could read her innermost thoughts.
Terrified at the idea, Brenna pasted on a bright smile and tapped a finger on the edge of the computer monitor. “You startled me, that’s all. I’m working on the schedule for the rest of the month. Trevor sent an email adding a few events.” She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to stop babbling to Marcus.
The vineyard’s serious CEO didn’t need Brenna blathering on about her duties. But she was so worried about a possible confrontation with Trevor that adrenaline spiked through her, making her stomach jittery and her nerves strung tight.
Marcus gave her a warm smile. “How much coffee have you had this morning?”
“Oh, my gosh.” Brenna popped out of her chair, banging her knee on the corner of the desk in the process. “I’m sorry. I forgot to make a fresh pot,” she said, turning and hurrying down the hall toward the small kitchenette that was the company’s break room.