Falling for the Wrong Brother Page 9

  “I never do anything without a plan.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  “But you have a plan,” she insisted.

  He laughed and turned on the radio. “Yes, Maggie May. I have a plan.” Glancing over at her, he cocked a brow. “But I’m going to leave you in suspense.”

  “I hate suspense.”

  He laughed again, then began to sing along with the song on the radio. It was a classic rock anthem from the late seventies, and Maggie closed her eyes as she listened to Griffin’s rich baritone strike the perfect harmony with the lead singer. She joined in when the chorus started, letting the music and the moment sweep her away. At least until she realized that Griffin had gone silent.

  “What?” she said when she turned and found him staring at her.

  “Finally, something you’re not good at,” he said with a mischievous smile. “I was beginning to think you were too perfect, but, Maggie Spencer, you couldn’t carry a tune out of a bucket.”

  She gasped and leaned forward to flip off the radio. “It’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend when you’re dishing out that kind of charm.”

  Silence filled the vehicle’s interior for only a few seconds before she heard the deep rumble of Griffin’s laughter. As much as embarrassment heated her cheeks, Maggie felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. “That was so rude,” she muttered.

  “You’re adorable,” he said, reaching a hand over and patting her leg. She wore a fitted blouse and crisp knee-length skirt so the feel of his calloused fingers against her bare skin sent awareness racing through her. “I like that you aren’t perfect.”

  “I’m not that terrible of a singer,” she insisted. He didn’t answer and after a moment she huffed out an irritated breath. “Okay, I’m awful but it’s still bad manners for you to point it out.”

  She stared at the rolling hills and open farmland. They were heading west toward the coast, and the landscape was slowly moving from verdant valley with mountains looming in the distance to the rockier geography of the Oregon coast.

  “You’re real.” He turned the radio on again, humming along with a popular country hit. “That’s way more interesting than your Stonecreek image if you ask me. Sing at the top of your lungs. I could care less if it sounds like a herd of cats dying a slow death.”

  She burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re so darn hot,” she said when she could control her laughter enough to speak. “Otherwise, women would run the other way as soon as you opened your mouth.”

  “Are you going to run?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

  “No,” she said without hesitation. She hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. “But I am going to subject you to my singing.” She turned up the volume knob on the radio as a Carrie Underwood song started. “I love this song so much.”

  Griffin grimaced but she could tell he liked her answer. It was close to seven when he pulled off the highway onto a two-lane road that followed the coastline. She rolled down her window and breathed deeply of the ocean-scented air.

  “I don’t know this town,” she said, gazing at the clapboard houses and faded shingled buildings. There were huge pots of trailing vines and flowers situated on every block, and a few couples and several families meandered along the sidewalks. It was quaint and quiet and exactly the kind of place Maggie was in the mood to discover.

  He parked the car in front of a cozy-looking used bookstore. “Lychen is more a town for locals than tourists. It’s a fishing village really, but the people here are great.”

  They got out of the Land Cruiser and Griffin scanned the street. “It’s grown some since I came here in high school, but it still looks pretty sleepy.”

  “How did you discover it?” She held up a hand. “Wait. I bet it was a girl.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “There were plenty of girls, but not here.” He put a hand on her back to direct her onto the sidewalk, then kept it there as they walked. The light contact reverberated through Maggie.

  “My dad and I got in an argument one weekend, which was not uncommon. By the time I was in high school, it seemed like all we did was fight. That time was different because I’d just gotten my license. I finally had the freedom to leave, so I did.”

  “And you came to Lychen?”

  He nodded. “Not on purpose at first. I had that old Chevy—”

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  “I started driving and this is where I ended up. It was different than Stonecreek. At home I was the kid with an attitude. Everyone had me pegged and I did plenty to live down to their low expectations. But here, no one knew me. I could be whoever I wanted to be. I liked it, you know?”

  She glanced over at him, taking in his strong jaw and the tiny lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. Griffin was different than the boy she’d known growing up. He’d changed in the years he was away from Stonecreek, matured in a way she still could barely grasp.

  “Who were you in Lychen?”

  “Anonymous,” he answered immediately. “I wasn’t part of the Stone family. Generations of history didn’t weigh me down. I was just a kid with a truck from out of town.”

  She bit down on her lower lip. How could she and Griffin have grown up so similarly but end up with such opposite views of what the past meant? “I always liked the history,” she admitted. “Knowing where I came from gave me a sense of who I was supposed to be.”

  Griffin’s shoulder bumped hers and she felt the heat of his body. The air was cooler on the coast, and she wanted to move closer and wrap herself in his warmth. “I guess I needed to figure it out on my own,” he said with a shrug.

  They stopped outside a storefront, and he pointed to the sign above the door. Luigi’s Italian Inn.

  “An original name for a restaurant,” she offered.

  “I used to walk by this place back in the day and salivate over the smells drifting out, but I didn’t have the money for a sit-down dinner back then.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “What do you think? Spaghetti dinner?”

  As if on cue, her stomach growled. She nodded and followed him into the restaurant, breathing in the scent of tangy sauce and yeasty bread. The restaurant was long and narrow, with booths lining the length of one wall. A woman with dark hair and kind eyes greeted them at the hostess stand.

  “Welcome to Luigi’s. I’m Bianca, the owner, and I’m proud to say we’ve been serving my nonna’s Sicilian recipes here for over thirty years.”

  Maggie stifled a laugh. “We’re all about family history.”

  Griffin held up two fingers. “A table, please?”

  “Our most romantic,” Bianca answered with a wink. “It’s clear this is a special date.” She pointed at Maggie. “You have that look about you.”

  “I don’t have a look,” Maggie said automatically. She crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed to be called out by a stranger. “No look. None.”

  The woman only laughed and gestured for them to follow her.

  “I like your look,” Griffin whispered as they moved through the restaurant, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

  What was she doing here? They’d only driven an hour but this place seemed like a lifetime away from Stonecreek.

  Maybe that was the gift of this night and this tiny town. Like Griffin had experienced as a teen, she could be whomever she wanted without worrying about what anyone else would think.

  They were seated at an intimate booth near the back of the restaurant. A red-checked tablecloth covered the table, and a votive candle flickered from its center. Bianca handed them each a menu.

  “Would you like to see the wine list?” she asked, prompting Maggie to raise a brow at Griffin.

  “We’ll take a bottle of your favorite pinot noir,” he responded.

  The woman
nodded approvingly. “Right away.”

  “What if it’s not from Harvest?” Maggie asked when they were alone.

  He laughed softly. “I think I’ll manage.”

  She sat back against the booth’s cushion. “If Trevor and I ordered wine at a restaurant, he insisted that it be from Harvest. He wouldn’t drink anything else.”

  One side of Griffin’s full mouth quirked. “Then he’s missing out and besides—”

  He broke off as the owner returned, presenting a bottle to Griffin. “I have one of Harvest Vineyards’ best vintages. The volcanic soil makes the grapes especially crisp. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Harvest...”

  Griffin nodded. “Vaguely.”

  “They’re a rising star in the Oregon wine industry and also family owned, which we appreciate.”

  “I think we can trust your judgment.” Griffin looked to Maggie for approval. “Sound good to you?”

  “Of course.”

  The woman uncorked the wine and Griffin went through the process of inspecting the cork, then swirled and sniffed his sample before taking a sip. Amusement danced in his green eyes. “Very nice. A bit of cherry and currant. The tannins and acid are well-balanced.”

  “You know your wine,” the owner murmured approvingly, pouring a generous amount for Maggie and then filling Griffin’s glass. “We have a special that would pair beautifully with it. It’s a poached salmon with goat cheese and asparagus, plus a side of mushroom risotto.”

  “Maggie?” Griffin asked, and the fact that he so easily deferred to her made her knees go weak. Other parts of her body gathered strength, like lusty soldiers standing at attention.

  “Sure.” She nodded, pressing her lips together. The woman could have offered her monkey brains and she would have agreed to it. Her head was in a fog; the fact that Griffin had no problem letting her take the lead was as attractive as his handsome face and killer body.

  Despite being a grown woman and mayor of Stonecreek, Maggie felt like she spent most of her time deferring to other people’s wishes. From her grandmother’s expectations to Trevor’s strict ideas about how their relationship should progress, Maggie rarely got to choose something solely for herself. Even when she went out to dinner in town, she consciously made the rounds of local restaurants so she’d be seen supporting a variety of businesses.

  “Would you like a salad to start?”

  “Yes,” she said with probably more force than necessary as Bianca took a small step back.

  “A house salad would be great,” Maggie said, softening her tone. “Balsamic dressing, please.”

  The owner nodded and looked toward Griffin. “I’ll have the same thing,” he told her.

  When Bianca walked away again, Griffin inclined his head. “You feel passionate about salad.”

  “I guess,” Maggie said, feeling color rise to her cheeks once again. She took a long sip of wine. “It’s good. Did you know they carried Harvest here?”

  “Not specifically, but most of the coastal towns do. Trevor is good at his job.”

  “He’s driven,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to talk about anything to do with Stonecreek tonight. Tell me about your time in the army.”

  “A light topic,” he murmured. “Nice.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I never really understood what made you join in the first place,” she admitted. “I remember that you’d been accepted to Oregon State. I thought you were going into business and—”

  He held up a hand. “Me, too. But Dad and I had that last fight after the fire. He told me there was no way he’d let me work at Harvest. I was angry and hurt, although I probably deserved it.”

  “The fire was an accident.”

  “A cigarette left to burn next to a pile of magazines. My stupid friends and I had gone in to grab a few bottles of wine.”

  “Not many teenagers get drunk on quality wine.”

  “Totally unable to appreciate it at that age.” Griffin picked up his glass, twirled the stem in his fingers. “Especially when most nights ended with someone puking in the bushes.”

  “You learned a hard lesson.”

  “Dad didn’t see it that way.” He frowned. “In his opinion, I’d done it to sabotage the vineyard. They were hosting the Northwest Winemakers conference the following week.”

  “Everyone knew it wasn’t on purpose.”

  “It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. I understood at that moment that even if he relented—and Mom was going to do her best to make sure he did—even if he deigned to find a place for me at the vineyard, I couldn’t work for him. Our relationship was toxic.”

  “There’s a huge jump between not wanting to work for the family business and skipping college to join the army.”

  Griffin took a long drink of wine. “Not so big when you’re an angry teen wanting to stick it to your parents.” He shrugged. “The army was actually the best thing that could have happened to me at that point. It gave me purpose and structure—two things I didn’t realize I wanted in my life.”

  A waitress brought their salads, and Maggie forked up a bite of lettuce, then pointed it at Griffin. “See, structure and planning have their benefits.”

  He clinked his fork against hers. “Touché, Maggie May.”

  Her name on his lips felt like a caress, and Maggie wanted to lean into it. Away from Stonecreek, she felt light and free. She could do anything, even explore her attraction to a man who could never be right for her.

  They talked more about his time in the army and all the places he’d visited. Listening to Griffin, Maggie realized how narrow her life had been. She’d gone to school an hour from Stonecreek and, other than a senior trip to London with her grandmother, she’d barely traveled past the Oregon state line.

  Griffin didn’t seem bothered by her lack of worldliness. He asked questions about her family and her role as mayor, seeming genuinely interested in her ideas about the town’s future.

  Maggie didn’t want the night to end.

  * * *

  Griffin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy. Had Maggie been this amazing when they were younger? Probably... Although he’d been too stupid and self-centered to see it.

  He took her hand as they stood overlooking the beach on the town pier, lacing his fingers with hers. He’d never touch her so casually in Stonecreek, where curious eyes were everywhere. But here it was the two of them, and he wanted to make the most of every minute.

  “I should come to the coast more often,” she said, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in the salty air. “The sound of the ocean is the best.”

  “Next time we’ll walk the beach before we eat.” They’d lingered over dinner, and it was dark when they’d exited the restaurant. But the moon was almost full, so they could still see the waves crashing against the sand.

  “Next time,” she repeated quietly, then turned to him. “What’s going on here, Griffin?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “I’m on an amazing date with an amazing woman and—”

  “This isn’t a date,” she interrupted, tugging her hand from his.

  His gut tightened. Those weren’t the words he’d wanted or expected to hear from her.

  Now he shifted, looking down into her gray eyes. Strands of lights lined the pier, so he could see that her gaze was guarded...serious. Not at all the easygoing, playful woman who’d sat across from him at dinner.

  “What would you call it?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted.

  “But you’re confident it’s not a date?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not confident of anything at the moment. You might remember my life turned completely upside down last week. But even if that wasn’t a factor, I can’t imagine you wanting to go on a date with me.”

  “
I’m not the same guy I used to be.”

  She laughed softly. “Well, thank heavens for that.”

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “For who I was back then.”

  “I get that you were an angry kid and the whole ‘rebel without a cause’ bit.”

  She did air quotes with her fingers, making light of his teenage angst, which he definitely deserved. The things he’d seen after leaving Stonecreek made him understand how good he’d had it growing up.

  That perspective allowed him to return, made him want to make amends with his mother. Even had him wishing he could have another chance with his dad.

  “What was it about me in particular that you hated?”

  The question caught him off guard and he felt his mouth drop open. “I didn’t hate you,” he muttered.

  “Really?” Her delicate brows furrowed, and a line formed between her eyes that he wanted to smooth away with his fingertip. “Because the way I remember it you relished being churlish to everyone but I was in a special category.”

  He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I hated myself,” he admitted softly. “And I was jealous of you. You were perfect. Everyone in town loved you. It was clear even back then that you were the golden girl of Stonecreek, which meant you represented everything I could never hope to be.”

  “But now I’m okay because my crown has been knocked off?”

  “That’s not it,” he said, needing her to understand. He paced to the edge of the pier, then back to her. “I can’t explain it but there’s a connection between us, Maggie. I know you feel it.”

  She glanced out to the ocean in front of them. “I do.”

  “I think maybe I realized it back then. Except you were younger and friends with Trevor and so far out of my league.” He chuckled. “That part hasn’t changed. But I’m not the same person, and I want a chance with you.”

  “It’s complicated,” she said softly. “A week ago I was supposed to marry your brother. If people in town caught wind that I’d now turned my sights to you, imagine what that would do to my reputation.”

  The words were a punch to the gut. He might not care what anyone in Stonecreek thought about him, but it was stupid to think Maggie would feel the same way. She was the mayor after all and up for reelection in the fall. He stared at her profile for several long moments. Her hair had fallen forward so that all he could see was the tip of her nose. She didn’t turn to him or offer any more of an explanation.