St. Helena Vineyard Series: St. Helena Getaway (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by LK Collins

  Text copyright ©2017 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

  St. Helena Getaway

  A St. Helena Vineyard Kindle World Novella

  LK Collins

  Contents

  Introduction

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Acknowledgments

  For Our Readers

  Introduction

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena Vineyard series, and the Original Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.

  I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.

  Warmly,

  Marina Adair

  About the Author

  LK Collins is the naughty alter ego for the husband-and-wife duo behind multiple bestselling and international bestselling novels. This real-life couple is downright dirty in the bedroom, which bleeds through the pages of their steaming hot stories. While LK writes the books, Mr. Collins, the tattooed god himself, is the mastermind behind so much of the page-turning sexiness.

  If you are looking for a scorching read with chemistry so intense it jumps off the pages, then an LK novel is for you. From stand-alones to series, their stories will have you blushing and panting, ready to reread them the moment you’ve finished. The heroes are alpha, demanding, filthy-talking men that will do anything for their girl…or to get them.

  For more information:

  @authorlkcollins

  lkcollinsauthor

  www.amazon.com/author/lkcollins

  booksbylkcollins@gmail.com

  Dedication

  For, Lara, of course

  Prologue

  “Hope!” he yells my name, his desperate words piercing my ears as I slam our front door closed. My blood is boiling in a way it never has before, my emotions all over the place, fighting between anger and rage. Everything I was once so sure of, now all washed away because of one decision he made.

  Getting into my car, I shut the door and look back at our house. There had been so much promise behind those walls. No, we don’t own it, but we had plans. Plans to one day get married and start a family there.

  My knuckles are tight around the steering wheel as I remember actually why that dream just died. Betrayal is a nice way to describe it. I grip harder, wanting to take my anger out on something, pretending as if it’ll solve my problems even though I know it won’t. There is not a thing that will solve or fix this.

  As I drive away, my eyes keep glancing to the rearview mirror, to the house I just stormed from, to the house I will never step foot in again. He lied to me beautifully and had done it for so long that I think he believed what he was doing was okay. I don’t think he realized it wasn’t okay until I caught him and all the lies came crashing out into the open.

  God, I had not been anything but a puppet in his game of life.

  Well, not anymore.

  Anxious to get away from this place, this city, this life . . . from it all, I turn onto the onramp for the interstate and don’t want to ever look back.

  My mom’s voice rings in my head, “Please don’t go, Hope.” I should’ve listened to her and never left in the first place. If I had, this never would have happened.

  It is one of the last things she ever said to me before she had the massive stroke that took her from this world and from me. Her words and panic over my moving away with a man I’d barely known now make so much sense. Had she known how horrible of a man Mitch was and that I’d end up heartbroken? Probably. She also probably stayed silent because she knew I wouldn’t have listened.

  Or had she begged me to stay because she had known her time was short? I didn’t know if that was something a person knew or not, but I sometimes wondered if my mother had a feeling deep inside her and that was why she wanted me to stay so badly.

  Regardless, nothing is going to bring her back, and nothing is going to change what Mitch did.

  My cell phone rings, and when I glance down to see his name and deceitful face across the screen, I roll my window down and impulsively toss the phone out. It bounces against the pavement of the highway. Belatedly, I glance to my mirrors, worried about a car having to swerve to avoid flying projectiles. Thankfully, since it’s so late, there aren’t any other cars around.

  Pressing harder on the pedal, I wish I could go home. I wish I could crawl into my mother’s arms, but I can’t. My current destination is unknown, and even with the fear of having nowhere to go, the farther away I get from Portland, the better I feel. Ever since moving there to be with Mitch, something inside me hadn’t felt right.

  God, what I’d do to feel right in my own skin again.

  I should’ve listened not only to my mom but also to that feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. If I had, maybe then I wouldn’t be in the pain I am now.

  Chapter 1

  My whole life seems to be filled with regret. It follows me everywhere, from every dumb decision I made as a teenager to the latest with Mitch. Six months ago, the night I walked out on my previous life, I knew it was all too much. And even though so much time has passed, my heart still aches, missing what we had. Even if it was all a façade, I still loved him.

  Now, the open road has become my only friend. I’ve traveled all over the United States, looking for somewhere I belong, somewhere that feels right. So far, each stop has been just a stepping-stone to what I hope will be my final destination.

  Nowhere that I’d gone had felt like home, so last week, home was where I had gone. I’d thought it would be where I could ultimately settle down, mend my broken relationship with my father, and spend time in the place my mother loved. Boy, was I wrong. It was the complete opposite.

  My dad has moved on with a woman my mother despised. Genie Davenport, the owner of a local bar and the reason for many of my parents’ fights, is the woman. She’s the polar opposite of my mother, and when I saw her in their home, I couldn’t help but imagine how angry my mom would have been if she had been alive. Staying even a second longer felt like betraying my mom.

  It was my shortest stay of all.

  One good thing did come from the trip, though, my mother’s laptop. My father said he had no use for it, so I took it. Now, as I sit in my hotel room in the middle of desolate Utah, combing through her search history, I think I have my next destination.

  Saved to my mother’s favorites are multiple bookmarks about a small town in California’s wine country called St. Helena. My mother was always an avid wine drinker, and we’d planned on taking a trip together for
her birthday last year. We’d squish grapes between our toes and relax without a worry in the world, but that trip never came. She passed away, and the rest . . . well, you know the rest.

  I click through the different pages and can see why my mother wanted to visit it. St. Helena is so much more than a bunch of fields and grapes. Its old-world charm and local businesses like Cork’d and Dipped, a Wine and Chocolate bar, is everything I pictured when I closed my eyes and thought about where my mom and I wanted to visit.

  I’ve gotta try it out.

  I close the lid on the computer, set it on the nightstand, and flip onto my back, letting my eyelids drift shut and losing a deep breath. For the first time in months, I feel at ease with where I’m heading to next.

  Morning comes far too quickly. I’m exhausted and slept like a worn-out child. My back is still sore from the messed up position I fell asleep in, but now that I have a destination, I’m too anxious to get on the road to let a little back pain stop me.

  Hours later, I’m driving over the California state line. I’ve made good time, but I know I have so much farther to go.

  With the sprawling open road in front of me and my mind at ease, I drive—sunglasses on and the music humming in my ears.

  My gas light pops on, and I take the next exit to stop and fill up. After my tank is full and I have a fresh bag of potato chips and soda pop to keep me going, I hop back in and hit the road.

  It isn’t long until the sign up ahead says, “St. Helena—5 Miles.”

  I’m close, and I feel a knot of tension start to loosen in my stomach and morph into butterflies of excitement. But even with a stomach full of butterflies, I can’t help wondering what the future will hold. Will I ever settle down—anywhere? Or will I always be traveling like this? Will I ever date again? Those thoughts all take me back to the night I caught Mitch cheating on me with my best friend . . .

  After I’d finished the biggest article of my journalism career, I had been so excited to go home and celebrate. Far too often, I’d been crashing on the couch in my office, or simply slouching back in my chair to catch a few hours of sleep. I knew I had been giving so much to my career and not enough to Mitch.

  He had texted me earlier saying how bad he missed me and, damn it, I missed him, too. Finally, I was done with my project, which was a relief because I wanted nothing more than to enjoy the success with the man I loved.

  With the email all typed up, my article attached and ready for press first thing in the morning, I clicked send and then left.

  On the drive home, I called Mitch, but he didn’t answer. I figured he was sleeping—he is a hard sleeper—and I had all kinds of creative ways to wake him.

  But when I entered our home, the noises coming from our bedroom told me he was awake. It was kind of like a car wreck, I didn’t want to look but couldn’t stop myself. My feet moved on their own even though my brain was screaming at me not to go.

  Maybe I was hearing things, but that had not been the case.

  Mitch was kneeling behind Larissa—my only friend in Portland, who was on her knees. He had been fucking her from behind, and the things he had been saying to her were dirty. So damn filthy that I could tell it wasn’t the first time they were doing this . . .

  There is a loud pop, and my steering wheel pulls sharply to the right, causing me to swerve before I can get it under control. I grip onto it the best that I can, looking in all of my mirrors as I pull to the shoulder and slam on the brakes, coming to an abrupt stop. Dust settles around me as my heart slams wildly against my ribs.

  Cursing quietly under my breath, I try to force my pulse to calm down before I get out to check my car.

  My front passenger’s side tire is shredded.

  Shit!

  I can’t believe this happened and so close to St. Helena. I’m methodical with checking the air in my tires when I get gas, I have to be, if this happens, I have no one to call. But I guess I was so excited to get here when I last stopped that it completely slipped my mind. Though, by the way the tire is actually hanging in pieces, I doubted checking the air would have helped.

  Getting back into my car, I do a YouTube search on the cheap ass track phone I bought for how to change a tire.

  You can do this, Hope.

  I try to pump myself up, but as I watch the video, I’m not feeling very confident.

  A knock on my passenger window startles me. I look over to see a guy leaning down. He smiles, flashing a dimple on his right cheek that’s so deep I want to reach out and touch it.

  Something tells me to crack the window and tell him I don’t need his help, but God knows I do. Then he lifts his sunglasses, revealing the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and I think I could faint.

  Going against my better judgment, I roll the window down . . . all the way down.

  Chapter 2

  Chase

  Colt: Do you have any open rooms at the inn tonight?

  It’s the one night I work the desk, and of course, my brother Colt texts me, needing a room. Looking at the wall of keys, I take a second to contemplate my answer even though I don’t really have to. All of our reservations have checked in, and there is exactly one room left. With an annoyed sigh, I shoot him a quick response.

  Me: Yeah, I have the honeymoon suite. But I’m charging you for it.

  He doesn’t respond as thunder rumbles in the distance. Then I see headlights pulling in and know that fucker was around the corner when he sent that text. Setting the magazine I was reading down, I get up off the old creaky chair and head toward the front door of the inn.

  My brother’s truck cuts into the driveway, and then another set of headlights behind his follow, which is surprising. I would have thought my brother would already have the girl in his truck, but what do I know?

  Stepping out onto the front porch of the St. Helena Inn, my newly acquired business, I watch my brother get out and go over to the car. There is a woman inside it, whose features I can’t make out, and the car has Oregon plates on it. Obviously, she isn’t from around here.

  She shuts her car off, and he opens her driver door. My eyes skip between the two of them, trying to read what is going on. I know Colt likes to sleep around, but never did I think he’d bring a woman here. Why not just take her home?

  But before I can get too far off in my own head, she steps out of her car. My stomach tightens as if everything inside me is in tune with her. She is absolutely stunning with long, dark brown hair and a tight body to die for. Of course, she wants to be with my brother—all women do. I don’t know how he does it.

  “Hey, man,” Colt says, looking over his shoulder at me as he closes the woman’s door.

  I lean back against the front railing and give them a wave, watching their body language.

  He goes to her trunk and takes out her bag, but it isn’t until he’s leading her toward me that she looks in my direction. When she does, our eyes connect, and I could fall to my knees. I don’t know what it is about her, but she is—

  “Chase, this is Hope.” My brother gestures to her and then to me. “Hope, this is my brother Chase. He owns this place. Hope will need that room I texted you about.”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course.” I pull my shit together and run in to grab the keys.

  When I come back out, they are talking in low voices, and he pats her shoulder before turning to me. “Can you take it from here, bro?”

  “Yeah, man.” I don’t believe his words. They are the last I expected to hear. But sure enough, he gives us a wave, climbs back into his truck, and drives away.

  Both Hope and I stand a little stunned until his taillights are long gone. Two strangers eyeballing one another, and I’m still not really sure what to do as the first fat drop of rain hits me. From one moment to the next, the skies start to open, and I grab her bag, heading into the office.

  She follows as the rain literally turns into a downpour. I close the front door to the inn. The second it latches, my cock awakens. It’s just her and me in
here, and my body wants her.

  God, I must be deprived.

  “How do you know my brother?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from her and turning them to the storm outside. I need to not only talk to keep my dick under control, but also to make sure he hasn’t been with her already.

  “I really don’t. I was on my way into town and got a flat tire. He helped me put my spare on and offered to get it replaced for me since he has a friend who owns a mechanic’s shop.”

  “Wait, you said you were on your way here?”

  “Well, not here, here,” she said, giving me a brilliant smile. “I was on my way to St. Helena. Why would you ask it like that?”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to. I . . . It’s a pleasure to meet you.” My words are rolling out of my mouth like vomit, but I don’t have anywhere to escape to. The rain is pelting the roof, and in order to show her to her room, we have to go outside. The honeymoon suite is in the guesthouse around back.

  “Would you like a drink while we wait for the rain to stop?” I manage to get out clearly.

  “Sure,” she says and follows me into the kitchen. “This place is really nice, have you owned it long?”

  “No, I actually haven’t.” I hold up a bottle of red wine, to which she smiles and nods, so I uncork it and then pour us each a glass.

  “My neighbor owned it for years, but unfortunately, she recently passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I hand her one of the glasses, which she graciously takes before lifting it to her plump lips and swallowing a mouthful.

  “Wow, that’s delicious,” she says.

  “Isn’t it? And don’t be sorry about my neighbor, she lived a long, long life. She was ninety-seven when she passed and had no family left herself. That’s kinda how I ended up here. She left this place to me.”