by Jen Talty
Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Table of Contents
Harmony’s Mistake
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Books by Jen Talty
About the Author
Harmony’s Mistake
A St. Helena’s Vineyard Novella
JEN TALTY
Dedication
To my family, for putting up with all the voices…
Prologue
"ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?" Agent Sterling asked as he twiddled a pen between his fingers. He smelled of stale coffee and a three-day old cigar, which was in sharp contrast to his stylish dark suit and designer shoes.
"The only thing I’m sure of is I want that man to rot in hell." Heidi Charleston palmed her bruised cheek. It no longer hurt, but her ego sure paid a price. The only regret she had was leaving the dog with her ex's sister. Heidi no longer cared that Lucas had been sleeping with their dog walker, but the sweet German Sheppard would be the one thing she missed from her old life.
Agent Sterling pushed a pen and a stack of papers across the table. "You'll have to testify against him, and it could be months before that happens."
"But in the meantime, I get to start my new life.”
"Not really." Agent Sterling leaned back in his chair. "You'll be taken into protective custody, where, yes, you will be given a new identity, in a new town, but you’ll have to change again after the trial."
"I don’t mind.” She scribbled her signature on each line with an X.
"With another new identity in a new location, I wouldn't go getting attached to anyone,” Agent Sterling warned.
She had no intention of getting to know her neighbors, much less make friends. She'd keep her head down, make a modest living, and stay far away from men and their dogs. Sure, she knew not all men were women beaters, cheaters, or ran illegal poker games, but why risk it.
"And I need to inform you that if we find out that you’re working a poker game, or even placing a friendly wager, this contract is null and void, and you run the risk of being arrested. The government appreciates your help and compared to your boyfriend—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she said, needing to clarify the point. She’d made the mistake of being taken by a man who thought nothing of slapping her until she bleed. He didn’t care about what they had lost. No. He only cared about money.
And power.
And not necessarily in that order.
Agent Sterling nodded. “Just be warned that we granted you immunity under the condition, you stay away from gambling.”
“Understood.” Running poker tables had been a by-product of being on the arm of Lucas Montana, owner of a private airport outside of Phoenix, Arizona, along with Montana’s Bar and Grill. He also owned several other establishments, though lesser known, but all ran ‘legal’ poker tables, only Lucas bent the rules to the point they were anything but legal. However, that wasn’t enough to have the FBI go after him with guns loaded. No. Lucas also dabbled in running drugs for the Colombian cartel using his private fleet of small planes.
Sterling gathered all the papers and put them in a folder. “What changed your mind?”
She’d been approached a year ago, and not only did she refuse to help the FBI with their investigation of Lucas, she’d willingly participated in the gambling aspect of Lucas’s business dealings. However, she hadn’t known about his connection to drug dealers, his affair with the dog walker, nor had he laid a finger on her.
She let the first beating pass. The second time she made an excuse. But the third time? She found Agent Sterling’s business card and went about collecting whatever the Feds wanted. She’d lost more than her dignity to the greed that ruled Lucas’s life.
Three months after the first meeting with Sterling, and two beatings later, she considered herself a free woman.
“All that matters is that I did.” She stiffened her spine and forced herself to forget everything about her past life. “What now?”
Sterling pushed a folder toward her and flipped it open. “We take you to your new life as Harmony Baker.”
“I’m an event planner? I said I was good at managing things, but I know nothing of planning parties.”
“According to the aptitude test you took, a party planner was high on the list of potential careers.”
She scanned the documents. “St. Helena? Isn’t that in Napa Valley, California?”
“Sure is. We’re working on securing you your own storefront. You’ll have startup costs covered, but after that, you’re on your own. It’s a nice, small town, and they are in need of a good wedding planner so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of business.”
Letting out a long sigh, she resigned herself to a quiet, boring life, managing parties for other people, in small-town America.
Chapter 1
Six months later…
“WELCOME TO THE FIRST DAY of your new life.” Harmony Baker found the key left by the landlord, Mr. Russell, under the welcome mat and inserted it into the door of her new store, which donned the name Harmony’s Mistake, Event Planning for Every Occasion.” She laughed. The name of her store was supposed to be Harmony’s. Just Harmony’s. But when she’d called to have the sign made, she accidentally answered her handler’s question while giving the nice lady on the phone the information for the store and sign.
She decided to keep the name because she figured people would be curious as to why she thought Mistake was a good name for a party planner and check things out.
Maybe she’d tell people that it was all about helping people not make the kind of mistakes that made for an unpleasant event.
Yeah, like hooking up with a criminal.
Stop!
That wasn’t her life anymore. She was Harmony Baker, a sweet, girl-next-door type, who grew up in a small town outside of St. Louis and decided to move to St. Helena’s because she had a love for planning parties and wine and always wanted to live in Napa Valley.
About the only thing that was true in that statement was that she loved wine.
She checked the time. Her first shipment of supplies was to arrive at two in the afternoon, and her first official opening was tomorrow at nine. She had three hours to clean this place up, only glancing around, she didn’t have to do much. The floors were spotless. The shelves she’d ordered were already installed along with a seating area with a couple of comfortable sofa chairs for her customers to relax and look over options for invitations and other necessary items that went into a specular event. She’d have to thank Mr. Russell, who obviously went above and beyond the call of duty.
Perhaps the back room needed attention.
Pushing back the swinging door, she smiled. The white desk her landlord had sent her pictures of looked bigger and nicer in person.
She headed toward the back of the building, but the bell above the front door dinged, so she turned and headed to the front of
the store, realizing she should have locked the door.
“I won’t be open until…” She stopped just as she pushed the door open to the main room. It swung back and hit her shoulder.
“You okay?” the officer asked.
And not just any cop. No. This one was at least six three with light-brown hair that had to be a little too long as it fell about a quarter inch past his collar. He tucked his sunglasses in his chest pocket, showing off eyes the color of the sky when not a single cloud distracted you from the rich blues that stretched on forever.
“Yep.” She took in a long, slow breath. Even though cops were now on her side, they still made her nervous.
Her first thought was that he was there to warn her about what would happen to her if she ran a poker game in the back room, even if it were legal. But Sterling told her not a single person in this small town knew who she was, and the only tie she had to her old identity was a phone number if she thought her life were in danger.
“How can I help you?” she asked, painfully aware that not a single speck of color filled the white and stainless-steel décor. No flowers to sell and she hadn’t even had the chance to pull out the invoices from the small order she’d placed from a local wholesale flower company.
He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “I’m Mason Cooper, your landlord.”
She shook her head. “You’re not Mr. Russell.”
“No, I’m the landlord of the cottage you’re renting. I mentioned I was having the locks changed, so wanted to make sure you got them, and Mr. Russell said you’d be here. I hope you hadn’t gone to the cottage first.”
“Oh no,” she said, sighing a bit of relief. “I came right here, figuring I had a lot of cleaning to do and installing shelves, but wow, Mr. Russell really took care of things for me.” She took the keys from his hand, holding his gaze because she figured she’d be checking out the rest of the sexy man standing in a hot uniform less than two feet from her if she didn’t. He had a firm handshake and she’d bet—scratch that, no betting allowed—she imagined he had a rock-solid bicep to go with the shake.
Who would have thought dull brown would be so handsome on a man?
And it didn’t hurt to look, giving her some material for a late-night fantasy because even if she did take a man to bed again, it certainly wouldn’t be a cop.
Though, her ex had taken a plea deal, which meant she didn’t have to testify, and with Lucas and his buddies in jail, she had nothing to worry about. However, she still didn’t want to be in a relationship where you shared everything.
Sharing is what got her in trouble to begin with.
Mason smelled like a combination of hazelnut roasted coffee and cinnamon, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat since last night when Sterling dropped her off at a hotel an hour away with all the documentation she needed to really start her life over. This was it, she was on her own. A few dollars in the bank, the twelve-month lease for her shop and her cottage rental paid, and no ex-boyfriends with cute dogs to break her heart.
Or talk her into doing something illegal.
That thought snapped her back to the present.
“Thanks for stopping by with the keys.”
“My pleasure,” he said, glancing around. “A package came for you at the cottage; I put it in the kitchen.”
“Thanks. It’s probably my seeds. I’ll be getting other deliveries this weekend.” Sterling told her she should get a hobby, so gardening seemed like a cool thing.
“Have you had a chance to walk around town yet?”
“I literally just pulled in,” she admitted.
“Then let me do the honor of showing you.”
She held up her hand. “Thanks, but I’m sure you have other things you need to be doing.”
“Nope,” he said with a wide smile, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth. She guessed him to be in his early thirties, and obviously not married, since she did check his ring finger.
Why? She didn’t want to think about that. He was a man. A cop. And her landlord. Off limits.
“Aren’t you on duty?”
“I was on all night, so I’ve got plenty of time.” He had a voice that sounded like the gentle flow of water in one of those spa rooms that lulled you into a deeply relaxed state.
Harmony had two choices. She could either be rude and alienate the sexy cop, which wasn’t the worst idea. Or she could take a stroll with him down Main Street, being nice and polite, then that would be the end of it.
“All right.” She found herself following him out the door.
He waited patiently on the sidewalk as she turned the key, hearing the door lock click.
A few people milled about the sidewalks.
“Hi, Mason,” a young woman with blonde hair, large breasts, and eyes for the sheriff said as they walked in the direction of the local hotel, passing the animal rescue center. A couple dogs wagged their tails as she tried to ignore them yapping and clawing at the window, begging for attention. She’d never considered herself a dog person until she’d moved in with Lucas and his German Shepherd, Oscar.
God, she missed that dog, but Sterling warned her never to get attached because if the day ever came she had to pack up and leave, taking a pet wouldn’t be part of the equation.
“Lilly.” Mason nodded. “I’d like you to meet Harmony. She’s opening up an event planning business. You might want to check out her services for your next big party.”
“I don’t know. I’ve always prided myself on being able to throw the best party this town has ever seen.” Lilly curled her long fingers, sporting an expensive-looking manicure, around Mason’s bulging biceps, her thumb rubbing up and down his sleeve.
He didn’t exactly yank his arm away, but he certainly didn’t seem to appreciate the woman’s overt fondling.
Not to miss out on an opportunity, Harmony dug out a card from her purse. “Fifty percent off the first event.”
“You’ll never stay in business,” Lilly said, waving the card in the air before stuffing it in her clutch.
“I won’t get any business if I don’t offer discounts, and I’d like the chance to prove to you that my services won’t encroach on your own style. My job is to make sure YOUR party goes off without a problem, letting you enjoy your company AND taking all the credit.”
Lilly laughed some ridiculous fake laugh that sounded more like cat stranded outside on a cold night. “Again, not good business if you’re not trying to drum up—”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t want you to recommend me if you’re satisfied, but my job is to work with my clients, not tell them what to do.” She took a quick breath, knowing if she didn’t keep talking, Lilly would butt in once again. “Unless they have no vision at all, but I can tell, you’re the type of hostess who knows exactly what she wants.”
“All the more reason to do it myself.”
“Ah, but imagine having me deal with all the last-minute details while you take your time getting ready, or get your hair or nails done instead of having to do them the day before.” Harmony wanted to laugh out loud. A year ago, she was running poker tables in the millions, now she was trying to get some stuck-up snob to hire her for some small-town event where the topic of conversation would probably be what skin care line was the best.
Not that skin care wasn’t important.
Mason raised his hand and coughed, but it sounded more like he bit back a laugh himself.
Points to the cop.
“You drive a hard bargain, and I do have my parents’ anniversary coming up. Will you give me a free consultation? No strings attached?”
“Absolutely. My doors open tomorrow at nine. Feel free to text or call when you might want to stop by, or I can come to you.”
“I’ll stop by,” Lilly said, turning her attention back to Mason. “I’ll see you at the town barbeque on Friday?”
“I’m working, so I’ll stop by but that’s about it.”
“See you then,” Lilly said, patting h
is shoulder, letting her fingers linger longer than appropriate.
Mason pressed his hand on Harmony’s back and guided her down the street.
“Girlfriend?”
His entire body tensed. “More like the female I try to avoid at all costs.”
Harmony appreciated brute honesty.
“Of course, I can feel her glancing over her shoulder, eyeing my hand on your back, so sorry for using you, but she’s looking to put a ring on her finger, and it ain’t gonna be by me.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Harmony bit down on the inside of her mouth. Liking this guy would only bring her trouble.
He dropped his hand as they passed the Sweet and Savory Bistro.
“If you have friends or family coming to visit, The Napa Grand Hotel is a great place, and since you’re a business owner in town, you’ll get a discount.”
“Great.” Because she had so many people chomping at the bit to come visit her.
“So, what brought you to St. Helena’s?” he asked.
Time to test the fake backstory. She had to nail it, because if she deviated from the well-thought-out plan that highly trained professionals from the FBI had laid out for her, she’d have to make sure she adjusted it and that would probably set her up to be caught in a web of lies.
“I visited Napa Valley when I was little with my parents, and I loved it. I always thought about moving here but never did, so after my parents died, I figured now was the time.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mason said, his hand now on her back again as they crossed the street by the fire station.
“Thank you.” She braced herself for more questions, but the cop, whose profession dictated they be inquisitive, said not another word on the subject, even though she had the answers at the ready.
Her fake past was a compilation of fact and fiction, woven by some chick at the FBI. If you Googled her, you’d find a young woman who grew up outside of Phoenix who went to school in her hometown, receiving a degree in communications. You’d even find images of her on various social media with pictures of her fake parents who died in a tragic car crash when she’d been twenty-three, just ten years ago.