He might not have a relationship with Maggie, but the connection he felt had been immediate and almost palpable. He’d seen her walking down the street in that fancy gown, and his heart stuttered. How had the annoying, gangly girl he’d grown up with morphed into such a beautiful—and achingly melancholy—woman?
Every one of his boyhood transgressions had been magnified by the insinuation that he made his family look bad in front of the upstanding Spencers. Maggie had been their goody-two-shoes princess. The fact that she and Trevor had been friends despite the animosity between the two families hadn’t surprised Griffin. They’d both been textbook perfect. But today she’d seemed truly alone. Griffin had always been a sucker for another loner.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” he lied. “I felt sorry for her, and obviously with good reason.”
“You don’t need to feel sorry for Maggie. She’s tougher than she looks.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
It never is, Griffin thought to himself.
“Do you love this Julia?” he asked.
Trevor pressed his fingers to his eyelids as if the question gave him a headache. “Not exactly, but I can tell you I never felt anything like it with Maggie.”
Griffin snorted. “Two years ago I ate some bad scallops in Dubai, and I’ve never felt anything like what came next.”
“Shut up, Grif.”
“You can’t let Maggie take the fall for—”
“You’re back!”
Both men turned as Jana Stone raced into the room. She spread her arms wide and Griffin walked into his mother’s embrace, his heart swelling as she pulled him close. At five feet two inches tall, his mother barely grazed his chest, but a hug from her made him feel like he was a kid again.
He’d lost count of the times he’d been sent to his room by his father for one transgression or another. His mother had always sneaked upstairs to give him a hug and reassure him of his father’s love.
He’d even spent one full Christmas dinner alone, sulking on his bed, after he’d accidentally knocked over the tree while he and Trevor were wrestling. The fight had started when Trevor purposely broke a radio-controlled robot Griffin had unwrapped earlier, but it didn’t matter to his dad.
Griffin was the older brother who should have known better, so he’d been the one punished. When his mom couldn’t convince Dave Stone to give him a break because of the holiday, she’d boycotted the family meal, making up two plates and joining him in his room.
They’d eaten cross-legged on the floor, taking turns choosing Christmas carols to sing. It had been one of the best Christmases Griffin could remember, free of the tension and awkward silences that accompanied regular family dinners at the vineyard.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked, giving him another squeeze before pulling away. She sucked in a breath as she glanced toward Trevor. “Oh, my gosh. What happened to your eye?”
Trevor helpfully pointed at Griffin, who yelped as his mother pinched him hard on the back of the arm.
“You hit your brother? What were you thinking?” She placed a hand on her chest. “Tell me you didn’t fight with your brother in church.”
“Can’t do that, Mom. Sorry.”
“You should be sorry, Griffin John Stone. After all Trevor has been through today. I swear I wouldn’t put it past Vivian Spencer to have orchestrated this whole fiasco just to embarrass our family.”
“I highly doubt it,” Griffin muttered.
“Maggie had to follow her heart,” Trevor said, sounding like the benevolent son his mother knew him to be. “No one is to blame.”
“She is to blame,” their mother countered. “You’re the vice president of marketing for Harvest Vineyards. You’re a public figure, Trevor. We did a special blend for the occasion.” She threw up her hands. “With personalized labels. Press releases went out. This could hurt the brand.”
“Mom.” Griffin shook his head. “This was supposed to be a wedding, not a publicity event.”
He glanced at his brother, who lifted his brows as if to say I told you so.
“You’ve been away from Stonecreek too long, Griffin. Social media has blurred the lines between our private lives and public branding for the company. There’s too much competition these days to think otherwise.”
She moved toward Trevor, gently touching the swelling around his eye. “We certainly have no time for nonsense between the two of you. I guarantee the Spencers are already doing damage control. What do you think this will do to Maggie’s prospects for reelection in the fall?”
“Nothing,” Trevor said immediately. “She’s done a great job as mayor this first term so there’s no reason to think she won’t win again.”
Jana tsk-tsked softly. “She won the first time because we endorsed her—she had the support of the whole town.” She straightened and turned to Griffin. “Your second cousin is running against her. He’s been giving me the ‘blood is thicker’ line for months. Everyone has seen that Mary Margaret Spencer can’t follow through on a commitment of the most important kind. How can they trust her running Stonecreek? Especially given the Spencer single-mindedness in promoting a civic agenda benefiting her family’s business interests.”
Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. He’d returned because his mother had asked him to, but he didn’t want any part of this small-town drama. “Hasn’t the animosity between the two families gone on long enough?”
“We thought so,” Jana admitted. “I know Jim wants peace between us. I do, too.” She worried the pad of her thumb back and forth over the ring finger on her left hand, where she’d worn her wedding band for over two decades until her husband’s death. “Today changed everything.”
“Do you have something to add to this conversation?” Griffin asked Trevor.
His brother only shook his head and whispered, “Not now.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Griffin turned toward his mother. “There are things about today you don’t understand. Like the reason I hit Trevor.”
The bejeweled purse hanging at her side began to buzz incessantly. “It’s your grandmother,” Jana said, pulling out the phone. “I’m late to pick her up. She’s going to help me take the flowers from the reception site. We need to get to them before Vivian does. They’ll work for a tasting event at the vineyard tomorrow night, but you can bet Vivian Spencer will use them for the inn if given half a chance.”
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“Later tonight,” Jana promised, already heading for the door. “Family dinner at the house.” She glanced toward Griffin. “Did you drop your stuff there already?”
“Not yet.”
“I cleared out the caretaker’s apartment above the garage like you asked, although I don’t know why you won’t move back into your old room. It’s far more convenient.” She blew each of them a kiss. “No fighting, you two. I mean it.”
“Moving back?” Trevor asked as soon as she was gone. “To Stonecreek?”
“It’s only for a few months,” Griffin said, examining a scratch on one knuckle. “While I build the new tasting room.”
“Wait a minute.” Trevor stood and held up a hand. “You’re the contractor Mom hired?”
Griffin nodded. “I asked her not to mention it to you.”
“No way. You don’t get to waltz back in here and start taking over. I’ve dedicated the past five years to the family business.”
“I’m not a threat to you,” Griffin said quietly. “I know my place.”
“Since when?”
Griffin ignored the verbal jab. “I also know my way around a construction site and have a sense of the history of the vineyard. Mom wants it to be right, and I owe it to her.”
“I’m the vice president—”
“Of marketing,”
Griffin interrupted.
Trevor narrowed his eyes. It was no secret his dream in life was to run Harvest Vineyards. Both of them had grown up working the land and learning the ins and outs of the wine-making process. As Griffin grew older, the animosity between him and his father had grown until the two hundred acres they owned felt like a cage, the home he’d lived in since he was born, a prison.
“Dad wouldn’t have wanted this,” Trevor said harshly. “After what you did...”
“Not his decision to make any longer.”
Their father had died four years ago when the private plane he’d chartered crashed just after takeoff. The accident had been a shock to them all, and a huge blow to their mother. But Jana took her role as president of the board as seriously as if she’d been born into the family.
Griffin had come back for the funeral and stayed for the family meeting his mother insisted on presiding over the morning after the service. He knew Trevor had expected to be named CEO but instead Jana had offered the position to their longtime employee, Marcus Sanchez.
“I still should have been told.”
“And you still need to tell Mom about why Maggie walked away,” Griffin countered, unwilling to debate his worthiness to return to the vineyard with his younger brother.
Trevor studied him for a long moment, then flashed a sanctimonious grin. “You won’t stick, Grif. You never do.”
Fists tightly clenched, Griffin watched his brother walk out of the room. How could he argue when the desire to climb into his SUV and drive away made his skin itch like a junkie looking for his next fix?
He wasn’t meant for Stonecreek. He’d been a different person here, a punk kid he didn’t like very much. But he also had no idea how to be anyone else when faced with his past.
So where did that leave him?
He sure as hell wished he knew.
Chapter Three
“Do you hate me?”
Maggie paused in the act of folding the last of the tablecloths that would have been used at her reception. It was nearly eleven at night, and the Miriam Inn’s ballroom was dark other than one dim bulb glowing in the entry, where Brenna Apria stood, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“Does it matter?” Maggie asked, then placed the tablecloth on top of the pile with more force than necessary. Nancy Schulman, who managed events at the inn, had called her earlier to report that Trevor’s mom and grandma had descended on the venue and were scooping up the vases of flowers that Maggie and her bridesmaids had arranged and placed around the room the previous day.
The Spencers owned the inn and event center, and Maggie had recommended Nancy for the manager position after a nasty divorce nine months ago. Maggie appreciated that the woman still felt some loyalty, when Grammy had made it clear in a barrage of texts and voice mails throughout the day that everyone else thought Maggie was either crazy or downright cruel to have left poor, sweet, upstanding Trevor Stone at the altar.
Maggie hated to admit how much it hurt that people who’d known her since she was in diapers could turn on her so quickly, but she wouldn’t let it show. That was something she’d learned from her mother, who’d put on a brave front even when ovarian cancer ravaged her, metastasizing throughout her body.
She’d told Nancy to let the Stone women take whatever they wanted and that she’d clean up the rest after. Then she’d called the florist, the DJ and the photographer to personally apologize and assure them she’d pay each of their bills in full.
Even knowing they were getting their money, none of the vendors had been happy. Working the Spencer-Stone wedding was more than a regular job. The two families were practically royalty in the growing town, and Harvest Vineyards was quickly gaining a national reputation for its wine.
But the loss of visibility and free marketing couldn’t be helped. At least not by Maggie. It was rapidly dawning on her exactly what she’d done with her promise to Trevor about keeping the real reason she’d walked away a secret.
Now the woman she’d considered her best friend, who’d known about Trevor’s cheating, was standing here looking for what? Forgiveness? Absolution?
Maggie was fresh out of both.
“It matters. You’re my best friend.” Brenna walked forward, in and out of shadows, but Maggie could see how miserable she looked. Her dark eyes were red, her high cheekbones stained with the tracks of dried tears. Maggie didn’t care. Her own face was puffy from crying and even now, when she thought she had no more tears to shed, she could feel moisture prick the corners of her eyes.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. “How long have you known?”
“Trevor promised he’d change,” Brenna insisted instead of answering the question, then broke off at the glare Maggie sent her. “That it was a onetime lapse in judgment. I wanted to believe him, and I didn’t want you to be hurt.”
“That backfired,” Maggie muttered.
“You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“I am,” Brenna whispered.
Maggie grabbed the tablecloths and shoved them into a cardboard box. “You were aware my fiancé was cheating and didn’t tell me. I caught him swapping spit with another woman minutes before the wedding, and you weren’t even shocked. Did you know about Julia?”
Brenna’s full lips pressed into a thin line. “I thought it had ended, but they were flirty at your engagement party. I asked Trevor about it, and he said I was overreacting. He told me I’d ruin both of your lives if I said anything.”
“Don’t you think it would have been worse if I’d ended up married to a cheater?”
“He told me—”
“You must know you have terrible judgment when it comes to men,” Maggie said through clenched teeth, unable to stop herself, even though she knew the comment was hurtful.
Brenna grimaced. “I know.” She picked up a stack of napkins and thrust them toward Maggie. “You can hit me if you want, like Griffin did with Trevor. I deserve it as much as him.”
Maggie stilled as unease snaked along her spine. She hadn’t admitted anything to Griffin, so it was difficult to imagine him defending her to his brother. And yet... “What do you mean Griffin hit Trevor?”
“Decked him in front of the pulpit. Mrs. Davis was standing just a few feet away. She said Griffin looked like he wanted to kill Trevor but only threw one punch. Apparently, Trevor has a nasty shiner.”
“Have you seen him?”
Brenna shook her head. “I also didn’t realize Griffin was back in town. I thought he said he wasn’t coming to the wedding.”
“He had a change of plans,” Maggie told her.
“You talked to him?” Brenna’s brows shot up.
“As I was leaving the church,” Maggie said with a nod. “He ended up giving me a ride home.”
Brenna’s sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet space. “What does he know?”
Maggie bristled at the implied accusation in her friend’s—former friend’s—tone. “Nothing he heard from me. Trevor was the one who betrayed me, Brenna. I understand that, but it doesn’t change how hurt I am that you didn’t tell me what you knew.”
She walked to the far side of the reception hall, where they’d set up a table for the buffet line. Thankfully, after a few hours off her feet with an HGTV-watching marathon, her ankle felt almost normal again so she wouldn’t have to recount her embarrassing fall to Brenna. At one end of the long table stood a framed photo of Maggie and Trevor—their official engagement photo.
It had been taken just after Christmas, the two of them standing together on the bridge that spanned the creek snaking through the park in the middle of town. Snow covered the trees and their cheeks were rosy from the cold air. They looked happy. She’d been happy, or so she thought.
“I don’t know
why I agreed to take the blame for canceling the wedding in the first place.” She lifted the picture off the table, gripping the frame so tight her knuckles went white. “How is it better this way?”
“It shows people that you were in control,” Brenna suggested weakly.
“They hate me.”
“No one could ever hate you,” Brenna countered but they both knew that wasn’t true.
“Why, Brenna?” Maggie hated the catch in her voice. “Why not talk to me? If I’d known, I would have broken up with him months ago.”
Brenna put up her hands, palms out, defending herself from Maggie’s simple line of questions. “I believe he loved you, and you deserve happiness more than anyone I know. I’d never do anything to hurt you. At least tell me you believe that.”
“I do,” Maggie agreed reluctantly. She and Brenna had met soon after Maggie returned to town when they’d taken a yoga class together. It was an unlikely friendship—Maggie had just been elected mayor and Brenna had just filed a restraining order against her latest ex-boyfriend. “Can I ask you a question?”
Brenna nodded. “Of course.”
Maggie appreciated both the other woman’s commitment to making her life better and the fact that she didn’t seem to care about Maggie’s angelic reputation or who her family was in town. Brenna had been the first person since Maggie graduated college and returned to Stonecreek who liked Maggie for herself.
Brenna had a six-year-old daughter, Ellie, whom Maggie adored, and the two women had become fast friends. So much that when Jana Stone needed to hire a new assistant to work in the family’s office and manage the vineyard’s tiny tasting room, Maggie had recommended Brenna for the job.
She hadn’t had a moment’s doubt about her fiancé and where Brenna’s loyalty would lie if it came to that. On paper, Maggie and Trevor were perfect, and she’d been willing to ignore the rather flat chemistry and lack of spark in favor of all the practical things they had in common. She’d assumed he felt the same. What an idiot she’d been.
Falling for the Wrong Brother Page 3