Falling for the Wrong Brother Page 8

  “Don’t think for a minute you have the market cornered on regret.” He reached out and lifted a strand of her hair, watching it trail across his skin like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “Let me be nice to you, Brenna. Not because I have an ulterior motive. Not because I’m in any position to pass judgment.”

  He took a step back when a car door slammed outside the office door, untangling their fingers and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I like you, and I like having someone to be nice to again.”

  She bit down on her lip, so much she wanted to say to him but the words wouldn’t form.

  The chimes above the front door opened and two couples walked in, laughing and talking among themselves. Her next reservation.

  “Take the sandwich, okay?” Marcus gave her a pleading look.

  She nodded, then turned to the foursome. “Welcome to Harvest Vineyards. Have a seat, everyone.”

  Marcus backed away, but she stepped closer to him, ignoring the customers for a moment. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

  His brows rose and he glanced behind him like there might be someone else she was inviting.

  “Yes, I’m talking to you.” She flashed a smile. “It will be me and Ellie so nothing fancy. You’re welcome to join us if you don’t have plans.”

  “Is this a pity invite?” he asked, those dark eyes narrowing. “Because I told you about my awful mistake?”

  She let her smile gentle. “It’s an invite because I like you.”

  He seemed to relax at that. “What time?”

  “Six,” she said sheepishly. “Ellie still goes to bed early.”

  “Text me your address, and I’ll be there.”

  “Okay.” She clutched her hands in front of her stomach and watched him disappear around the partition. Then she stashed the sandwich and brown bag behind the counter.

  “Let’s start the weekend with our signature pinot noir,” she announced to the two couples. “It’s going to be a great Friday here at Harvest.”

  * * *

  Trevor stalked into his mother’s kitchen the following Saturday morning.

  “Where’s Mom?” Trevor threw out the question, then veered toward the refrigerator in the family home that housed every generation of Stones since Stonecreek’s founding.

  Griffin returned his attention to the set of plans spread out in front of him on the dining room table. “She went to town to check in with the staff running the Pioneer Day booth.”

  “Did you drink the last of the coffee?” Trevor held up the stainless steel pot like he wanted to brain Griffin with it. “Mom always saves me a cup on Saturdays.”

  Griffin lifted a shoulder. “You should have gotten here earlier. I supplied coffee to the guys who showed up to help with pruning this morning.”

  “I’m off the clock on the weekend.” Trevor set the coffeepot in the sink with a clatter.

  “It’s a vineyard. We’re never off the clock.”

  “That’s rich,” Trevor shot back, “coming from the man who was gone for the better part of a decade.” He moved closer and stared at the teenage boy standing just behind Griffin. “Who are you?”

  “Cole Maren,” the boy answered.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Cole adjusted the bill of his ball cap. “I work here.”

  “In my mother’s house?”

  Griffin pushed back from the table and stood. “What’s with the interrogation, Trev? You can see the kid is here with me. He’s going to run into town and pick up some supplies I need for excavation. The machinery arrives on Monday.”

  “Why do you want his help?” Trevor demanded.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “You know who his dad is, right?”

  “Dude,” Cole muttered, moving to put on his sweatshirt. “I don’t need this.”

  “Don’t go anywhere.” Griffin placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I need your help.

  “The office,” he said to Trevor, nudging his brother out of the way as he moved past.

  As soon as Trevor shut the door to the home office that had been their father’s sanctuary, Griffin rounded on him. “What the hell was that about?”

  “Toby Maren is the town drunk,” Trevor said like that explained everything.

  Griffin snorted. “You mean in all these years we still only have one?”

  “The family is bad news. I heard Cole’s brother is doing time over in Elbert County for assault and robbery. I don’t think the mom is in the picture. So he’s grown up with an alcoholic and a criminal.” Trevor threw up his hands. “Where does that leave him?”

  “In need of a decent role model?”

  “You sound like Marcus,” Trevor said with a derisive sniff. “Neither one of you has a sense of what’s right. We have an image to protect at Harvest—our brand means quality. That means we need to employ quality people.”

  “You don’t know Cole enough to say that he’s not.”

  “I know he’s trouble. Why can’t you trust me on this? You don’t have a clue what goes on in this town anymore. You can’t just waltz back in here after a decade and act like you’re going to take over.”

  Color flooded Trevor’s face as he paced from one end of the wood-paneled office to the other. He and his brother had never been close, but Trevor had a point when he said that he’d stayed while Griffin had left the family business behind. Griffin wanted to show some respect for the years Trevor had put into building Harvest’s market share. A great wine wasn’t worth its grapes if no one discovered it.

  “I’m not a threat to you,” he said. “Mom wants me to build the tasting room, and I’m going to do that for her. Then I’ll be gone.”

  “You had lunch with Maggie last week,” Trevor said, his tone accusing.

  Griffin’s spine stiffened. “So what?”

  “Why?” Trevor asked with a glare.

  “I ran into her in town. We were both hungry.”

  “Give me a break.” A muscle ticked in Trevor’s jaw. “First you play her knight in shining armor after the wedding and now you’re going on lunch dates? Are you suddenly interested in my girl?”

  Anger bubbled up in Griffin along with an overwhelming sense of possession. “She isn’t yours,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Well, she sure as hell isn’t going to go for someone like you.” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Maggie cares about her image and her family’s reputation too much to start a scandal.”

  “That fact worked to your benefit after you cheated on her,” Griffin said quietly.

  “It’s over,” Trevor insisted. “Turns out there’s nothing between Julia and me.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It was a mistake but also a blessing. Maggie wouldn’t have made me happy.”

  “What would, Trev? You’re mad that I’m working at the vineyard. You can’t stand that I’m giving a kid a chance.” Griffin lifted his hand, ticking off the list of grievances his brother seemed to have against him. “You don’t like that I had lunch with Maggie. From the outside, you’ve got it pretty good. A great job, a breakup where you came out smelling like roses, even though the whole thing was your fault. Life is handing you pitchers of lemonade and you’re pining for lemons. What exactly would make you happy?”

  Trevor opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “Keep an eye on Cole Maren. I have a bad feeling about him.” He stalked past Griffin and out of the room.

  Griffin returned to the kitchen, his temper practically boiling over, then blew out a breath when Cole shoved a piece of paper in front of his face.

  “I took your notes and made a list of the lumber and supplies we’ll need to get started on the project. My dad used to work for the garbage company, so I called and arranged for them to drop off a Dumpster on Monday.” He gave a small smile that looked more like a gri
mace. “If you don’t think we need it, I can use one of the vineyard’s trucks to haul away the waste.”

  “A Dumpster will make things faster.” Griffin scanned the list. “You’ve done a good job here.”

  “Mr. Stone is wrong about me,” Cole said, his words steely. “But he’s right about my dad and brother.”

  Griffin raised a brow.

  “Yeah, I eavesdropped,” the boy admitted. “Only because I wanted to hear what he’d say so I’d know how to convince you to let me keep this job.”

  “You don’t need to convince me.” Griffin folded the piece of paper in half and handed it back to him. “I was a teenager once, and you can’t help your family.”

  “I couldn’t believe when Mr. Sanchez hired me for the summer. I’d applied for jobs all over town.” He shook his head. “Then you picked me to help you with the construction.”

  “You practically threw yourself at me,” Griffin said with a chuckle. He was planning on handling most of the work himself but needed a few laborers to do the heavy lifting. When he’d asked the field manager if he had any workers to spare, Cole had tripped all over himself to volunteer.

  “I like building things,” Cole said simply but there was an underlying meaning to the words. This was a kid who’d seen plenty of things in his life torn apart. He was tall, almost six feet with gangly arms, long legs and hair that was badly in need of a cut. He favored black metal band T-shirts and ripped jeans. Overall, he looked like another punk kid with a surly attitude. Much like Griffin had when he was that age. Maybe that was why he saw something more in Cole. Potential. Hope. Determination. Characteristics he recognized and respected even if Trevor couldn’t.

  “Take the truck and pick up this stuff from Kurt’s. The vineyard has an account.”

  Cole nodded. “Then what?”

  “It’s Saturday.” Griffin smiled. “Don’t you have some lucky girl to take out for the night?”

  The teen rolled his bright blue eyes. “The girls who run in my crowd are skanks.”

  “Hey.” Griffin reached out and cuffed the back of the boy’s head. “Treat women with respect. Talk about them with respect.”

  “But they don’t—”

  “You should know better than most that what you do matters more than what the people around you do. Be the man you want others to see you as. Maybe you’ll find a girl who wants to be with the best version of who you are.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Dr. Phil much?”

  “That was some of my best stuff,” Griffin countered with a laugh. “I have wisdom to impart, young apprentice.”

  “How’s that advice working for you?”

  Irritation scratched just under Griffin’s skin, mainly because the question made too many of his own doubts crawl out of their dark caves yearning for the light. Returning to Stonecreek had turned his life upside down. He was back in his family home, trying hard not to become invested in the vineyard even as his fingers itched to work the vines.

  He lusted after Maggie Spencer, a woman all wrong for him and not just because a week ago she’d been in a wedding gown ready to marry his brother. “This isn’t about me,” he mumbled.

  “I know Morgan Spencer.” Cole stared at a spot over Griffin’s shoulder. “She’s not like her sister—doesn’t care about the Spencer name and all that.”

  Griffin rubbed the back of his neck, grateful for any change in topic, no matter how minuscule. “Are you friends?”

  “Sort of. Maybe. Not really. She thinks she’s some kind of rebel, but she’s better than she pretends to be. Better than most of the guys in this town deserve.”

  “She has that in common with her sister,” Griffin said, thinking of himself and Maggie.

  “Yeah?” Cole asked and his young eyes held an understanding far beyond his years.

  Griffin sighed. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie felt like her cheeks might break if she held her tight smile for one more second.

  She excused herself from the group she’d joined a few minutes earlier, and moved toward the one quiet corner of the town square. She lowered herself onto a park bench and leaned back, watching as folks streamed toward the strands of lights that marked the festival’s midway.

  The Pioneer Day Festival was in full force, and Maggie had been making the rounds for the past three hours. Before that she’d spent most of the morning helping to set up booths and unload food and supplies from the backs of trucks. Normally, she loved the start of festival season in Stonecreek. The town could find a reason to celebrate almost anything, and the summer calendar was crowded with weekends of barbecue, pies, flowers and art.

  Even before Maggie had become mayor she’d volunteered for setup and teardown at almost every event. But today the camaraderie felt forced, her conversations with old friends stilted. Jason Stone had been holding court at the morning’s pancake breakfast, which kicked off the festival, like he was already the front-runner in the election.

  Maggie had found herself on the periphery of her beloved community. Ever since she’d ventured out to lunch with Griffin, people had been friendly but still standoffish, as if she had some sort of “tarnished bride” germs that might rub off on them if they got too close. Apparently, she’d taken for granted her position as “Stonecreek’s sweetheart” and how one mistake could push her off that platform like a disgraced pirate shuffling along the plank.

  “Shouldn’t you be shaking hands or kissing babies?”

  She turned as Griffin approached from the far side of the park, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. As always, he looked effortlessly handsome in a gray chambray shirt and dark jeans.

  “I’ve already left lipstick marks on all the talcum powder–scented heads. My work here tonight is done.”

  “Then my timing is excellent.”

  Shivers of awareness spiking through her, she patted the bench. “Have a seat,” she said, hoping she sounded casual as opposed to as nervous as a schoolgirl.

  Griffin had always had that effect on her, even when they were younger and he’d made it his mission in life to ignore her. It didn’t matter where she’d been as a teenager or how many people were surrounding her; as soon as Griffin had appeared her body had hummed liked a high-voltage power line.

  “Do things ever change around here?” he asked as he dropped down next to her. “Pioneer Day looks the same as it did when we were kids.”

  Maggie smiled. That was one of the things she loved about festival season—the tradition of it. “Two years ago,” she said solemnly, “the cooks at The Kitchen used a new batter recipe for their funnel cakes. They came out of the fryers as gelatinous grease blobs. Caused quite a stir and was the lead story in the community newspaper the next week.”

  “Lesson learned, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes.” Maggie nodded and worked to keep her expression serious. “Back to the original batter the following year and they offered half-price funnel cakes on opening night to make it up to everyone.”

  Griffin laughed softly. “No wonder people around here are obsessed with your nonwedding. Nothing else has happened in years.”

  “Maybe I could orchestrate a minor zombie outbreak. That would take the attention off me.”

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  She breathed in the cool air of evening, tinged with the scents of fried food and cotton candy. Griffin had the gift of helping her not take herself or the town too seriously. Through his perspective she was able to see how trivial some of her worries were in the bigger picture.

  She turned her head to look at him. “What brings you into town if you weren’t planning on attending the festival?”

  “You,” he said, keeping his gaze forward. “I didn’t have a plan, but I wanted to see you.”

  Joy rushed through her like an electric current, making her body heat from the inside o
ut. “I’m glad.”

  He cleared his throat. “Do you want to walk through the festival?”

  “Not one bit,” she admitted, earning a wide grin.

  “What a relief,” he said, standing and taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

  She felt only a moment’s hesitation that she might be shirking her duty to the town as its mayor.

  Wasn’t she obligated to attend every minute of every event sponsored in Stonecreek? That was how she’d lived her life for the past two years and, honestly, it was difficult to remember a time before responsibility was her norm.

  Glancing at her hand joined with Griffin’s, Maggie realized she wanted something different than the norm. She wanted excitement, adventure. More than anything, she wanted Griffin Stone.

  “Hurry,” she whispered, giggling for the first time in forever. “I need to get out of here before someone sees me.”

  They ran down the sidewalk, hand in hand, and Maggie felt freer with every step. She knew they weren’t doing anything crazy or rebellious, but in her structured world, it felt like a revolution and she reveled in the moment.

  By the time they got to the Land Cruiser, parked several blocks away, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Griffin released her hand to open the passenger door and she climbed in, placing a hand over her chest like she could calm her racing heart.

  “You’re beautiful,” Griffin told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He gave her the cocky half grin that had practically melted her panties in high school, and tonight it made her feel like she might spontaneously combust.

  “Oh” was the only response she could manage.

  “Oh, yeah,” he murmured, his grin widening. He came around the front of the SUV and got behind the wheel, and then they were turning the corner that led to the highway out of town.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked, proud her voice didn’t tremble.

  “Do we need a plan?” Griffin drummed his fingers casually on the console between them. His hands were large, his fingers long and surprisingly elegant even with several scratches and scars. She liked seeing the evidence of his labor on his body.