She made coffee every morning, often pairing it with homemade muffins or sweet bread. Her official title was office assistant, but for the past six months she’d also managed the makeshift tasting room set up on one side of the Harvest Vineyards lobby.
Trevor had been the one to promote her into that position, and she was grateful for the additional responsibility and bump in pay. They didn’t get a ton of tourist traffic like some of the larger vineyards, although the plan was for that to change with the opening of the new tasting room. But Brenna made sure the visitors who did find them got not only samples of their best vintages but also a warm welcome to the area.
Most of her work was with Trevor or the winery’s operations manager. Although he was the CEO, Marcus liked to schedule meetings and handle personal correspondence himself. She tried not to take it personally but secretly wondered if he didn’t ask for her assistance because he didn’t trust her to do a good job.
Now she wished she had the tall, handsome leader in her corner. She hadn’t spoken to Trevor since Maggie had walked out of the church. But he must know Brenna had been the one to confirm that the kiss was more than a onetime lapse in judgment. Why hadn’t she told Maggie about his cheating before?
She’d betrayed her best friend and herself. Brenna had made plenty of mistakes, but she’d promised herself to be stronger in character when she moved to Stonecreek. Her six-year-old daughter, Ellie, was depending on her. It was the reason Brenna hadn’t gone on one date since the move. She wanted to be a role model for her girl, not a cautionary tale like her own mother had been. Somehow, she’d still managed to mess things up.
She yanked the empty coffeepot off the counter and turned on the tap to refill it, startling again when a hand touched her shoulder.
“Something’s wrong, Brenna,” Marcus said quietly.
She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or run away. Maybe all three at the same time would do the trick. Other than superficial office pleasantries, she and Marcus had barely spoken in the year she’d worked at Harvest. She wasn’t even sure he knew her name until this moment. Okay, Harvest employed fewer than a couple dozen people full-time, so of course Marcus knew her name. He saw her every day of the workweek.
He’d just never said it before. Hearing it and the sincerity in his tone almost undid her. She felt dirty and cheap in a way she hadn’t even when her last boyfriend had put his hands on her in violence. She’d thought Trevor was her friend and had trusted him when he’d told her he loved Maggie.
Trusting the wrong people had always been her downfall. If only she’d had a Marcus in her life—someone constant and caring. Someone who might see her as something more than a pretty face.
“I’m a horrible person,” she blurted, pouring the water into the coffee maker with shaking fingers. Anything to keep moving so she wouldn’t break down completely.
“You’re not,” he countered.
She shoved the pot under the dispenser, flipped a lever and then whirled on him, unable to accept kindness she most definitely didn’t deserve.
“Trevor was cheating on Maggie, and I knew it.” She crossed her arms over her chest like she could ward off the judgment she was sure to see in Marcus’s dark eyes. “I caught him with a woman months ago, but I never said anything to Maggie. She’s my best friend and I didn’t tell her.”
Marcus’s gaze was unreadable, his features a mask that was almost as disconcerting as outright condemnation. “Why?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Does it matter?”
“To me it does.”
“He told me he loved her and was sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted to believe him, and maybe he meant it. But Maggie is the best friend I’ve ever had. I betrayed her by not saying anything.” She threw up her hands. “She even got me the interview with Jana for this job.”
“I know.”
“I love this job.”
One side of his mouth quirked. “I know.”
“I thought Trevor was a good guy. I thought he was my friend.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “The two of you were certainly friendly—huddled around the computer or laughing together serving wine to guests.”
She shook her head automatically. “No. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it to be taken that way. I’m flirty with men. It’s my thing.” She pointed a finger at him. “I hope you aren’t insinuating that I did anything inappropriate with Trevor. I’m sure he’s angry that I confirmed with Maggie that I knew he’d cheated. I could lose my job because of it, but I won’t let you slut-shame me.”
He took a step back, held up his hands, palms up, color rising to his cheeks. “Whoa there. I don’t think you’re a slut and I’m not shaming you for anything. You don’t flirt with me,” he added. “I’m a man.”
“You’re different.”
“How?”
“You’re the boss.”
He let out a huff of a laugh. “Really?”
“I respect you,” she said after a moment. “I want you to take me seriously.”
“I do respect you,” he told her. “You aren’t going to lose your job because of this.”
“If Trevor—”
He hitched a thumb at his chest. “Remember—I’m the boss.”
“What about Jana?”
“She can deal with her son and his actions. I’ll keep you safe, Brenna.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs at the simple statement. That was the thing missing from any relationship she’d ever had with a man—the feeling of safety. She had a self-destructive streak a mile long. Marcus’s words felt like a promise, and she tucked them into her heart.
He only said it because he was a nice guy. It didn’t mean anything. She couldn’t let it mean anything. She’d been fooled too many times to let her heart open to a man like Marcus Sanchez. He was way out of her league.
“I won’t mess up like that again.” She smoothed a hand over the floral-patterned dress she wore, fingering one of the delicate buttons. “This job is too important.”
He gave a slight nod and moved forward. For a moment she thought he was going to reach for her. And in that moment, she wanted it. Wanted to be held by a man who valued her, to know what that felt like for once in her life.
“I’ll make the coffee today,” he said, his voice gruffer than normal. As if on cue, she heard the distant sound of the chime over the office’s main entrance. “You’d better go see who’s here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and hurried out of the room. She might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Brenna knew enough to accept a second chance.
Chapter Five
“You can’t avoid the world forever. It’s cowardly and not how a Spencer behaves.”
Maggie stifled a groan as her grandmother barged into her office on the third floor of the historic building that housed Stonecreek’s courthouse, city hall and police department.
“I’m working, Grammy.” She stood, coming around the edge of the desk to give Vivian the requisite hug and kiss on her cheek. “The Pioneer Day Festival is next weekend. I’ve been updating the website and putting together last-minute posts for social media.”
Maggie was Stonecreek’s only full-time administrative staff member, so she took on most of the responsibilities for promoting the town—as well as dealing with city council, permits and contracts, plus anything else the community needed from her.
“You should be out in the community,” Grammy insisted, wagging a finger in Maggie’s direction, “not hiding behind your computer.”
“This is part of my job, too,” Maggie argued. “It’s not hiding.”
Grammy tsk-tsked, then gripped Maggie’s arms. “You have to show them you’re not embarrassed by your horrible mistake and total lack of judgment.”
“When you put it like that...”
“Peop
le are angry, Mary Margaret, and rightfully so. Your wedding was supposed to be the event of the year.”
A sick pit opened in the center of Maggie’s stomach. “Do you want to see the summer calendar? We have a half dozen great events scheduled. One of them can take the place of my wedding.”
“They pale in comparison to your wedding,” Vivian countered. “You’re royalty in this town. The Spencers have always represented what’s best about Stonecreek. Then Dave Stone had to open his winery and slowly that family has been chipping away at our status with their fancy wines. The Stones were nothing but a bunch of dirt-poor farmers before Harvest Vineyards.”
“Grammy,” Maggie said with a sigh, “we’ve talked about this before. The vineyard is good for the town. It brings in more tourism dollars. People come for the wine but they stay to discover everything else we have to offer.”
“But the vineyard is the lure now. That isn’t how it used to be. It isn’t how we want it to be.” Vivian stepped away, her lips pursed. “We want them here for the antiques and the tearoom. We need them to stay at our inn, Maggie, not stop through as part of a valley wine tour. We’re losing control, and that’s unacceptable.”
Maggie hated to see her grandmother so upset. The Spencers had owned the majority of the businesses in downtown Stonecreek for most of the town’s history. There was the Miriam Inn and Tearoom, named for Maggie’s great-great-grandmother, and the Stonecreek Antiques Market across the street.
Her family also owned the market on the corner, which had been managed by a neighbor for the past twenty years. Maggie’s uncle Frank ran the Stonecreek Realty and Property Management Company, making him the landlord for most of the other businesses in downtown. A small faction of residents, led by members of the Stone family, lamented the fact that the Spencers held a bit of a monopoly in town.
Truth be told, Harvest Vineyards leveled the playing field and tilted the balance of power in a way that Maggie’s family had never before seen. Secretly, she thought it was about time but she’d never admit that out loud. To do so would be tantamount to a betrayal of her family’s legacy.
“We can still work with the Stones,” she said, trying another tack. “Trevor and I breaking up doesn’t change that we all want what’s best for Stonecreek. I’m going to put together a proposal for Jana Stone and Marcus Sanchez to detail some ideas I have for cross promotions that will benefit both the town and Harvest.”
“It isn’t the same as being connected by marriage,” Grammy insisted, although her tone had gentled slightly. “They have no reason for loyalty to us now. Dave Stone carried a chip on his shoulder for most of his life that the Spencers were more successful than his family.”
“Jana isn’t Dave. Neither is Trevor.”
“She’s a mother whose son was humiliated in front of her friends and family. If you don’t think Jana and Trevor are going to want to exact some kind of revenge, you’re being naive.”
Maggie bristled at her grandmother’s words. If anyone had a right to feel humiliated, it was her. Trevor was a genius at marketing, his work propelling Harvest wines to the national spotlight, critical acclaim and an ever-growing client base.
She couldn’t help but think the timing of the kiss with Julia hadn’t been an accident on his part, especially after talking to Brenna. Her friend thought Trevor had used the other woman to get out of the marriage. How did Trevor really feel at this point?
“I’ll make things right with the Stones,” Maggie promised. “Trevor and I were friends long before anything romantic happened between us. He’ll make sure his mom knows that in the end it was for the best.”
“And you’ll stop hiding?” Vivian prompted.
Maggie nodded, although her throat went dry at the thought of venturing outside the safety of her office. “I was about to break for lunch,” she said brightly. “Care to join me?” If Vivian came, Maggie could use her grandmother like a shield. No one would dare mess with her if her petite but stalwart Grammy was at her side.
“No, thank you, dear.” Vivian approached Maggie again and patted her cheek. “Go to The Kitchen. It’s the best place to be seen on a weekday afternoon.”
“Because Irma Cole is the biggest gossip around,” Maggie muttered.
“Play nice, Mary Margaret. I’m depending on you. Summer will pass quickly, and Election Day will be here before you know it. We can’t let Jason Stone gain any traction.”
After dropping a quick kiss on the tip of Maggie’s nose, Vivian turned and walked out of the office, leaving a trail of White Diamonds–scented air in her wake.
Hands numb and palms sweating, Maggie went back to her computer and saved the graphic for the Pioneer Day Festival. Stupid to think she could go back to normal without facing the events of last weekend. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself as she grabbed her purse, then left her office.
She slipped into the hall and gave a little wave to Megan Roe, the young woman who served as the secretary for Maggie, as well as police dispatcher and administrative support for the fire department. Megan, who was as eternally optimistic as her boss, smiled brightly and put her thumb in the air. “You’ve got this,” she said with a nod.
Maggie had relied on Megan over the past couple of days to bring in food and coffee while Maggie was holed up in her office. She’d gotten to work before daybreak and stayed until the town was dark, skulking through the sidewalks like she had something to hide.
She didn’t, but no one else knew that and she hadn’t been ready to face censure from a community that believed she’d failed it.
Maggie got out of the building without seeing anyone else—maybe because she’d hurried to the back staircase and out the door that opened to the alley behind city hall. Heart hammering in her chest, she made her way through the shadowed walkway between two buildings. She stopped before reaching the main sidewalk and forced a few deep breaths.
This was the plight of being a good girl, Maggie thought to herself. Twenty-seven years old and she didn’t know how to deal with disappointing the people around her. She’d been the kid who did chores without being asked and made her bed each morning. She’d been the teacher’s pet in every grade, even more so in high school after her mother died. The structure and routine of school was the only thing that kept her sane when her father was falling apart in the months after cancer claimed his wife’s life.
Her grandmother had stepped in, but with her dad so out of it and her mom no longer around to run interference, Maggie had been on the receiving end of the brunt of Vivian’s attention.
Maggie wanted to make sure Morgan and Ben had normal childhoods—or as normal as kids could have without a mother. So she’d feigned interest in the lectures her grandmother constantly spouted on Spencer pride and expectations.
Maybe it was an inevitable osmosis, but eventually Maggie had gained a deep appreciation for her family’s identity in town and taken up the mantle of the Spencer legacy. It had given her a purpose she’d desperately needed at that point.
Now that purpose was coming back to bite her in the butt. She paused at the corner of the building as her eye caught on a sign stuck into the soft ground at the edge of the park across from city hall.
There were two signs, actually. One advertised the upcoming pancake breakfast, an annual fund-raiser held to raise money for the parks committee that she oversaw as part of her mayoral duties. Beneath that was another, hand-painted poster with the words Meet Candidate Jason Stone. Loyal. Dependable. He Won’t Waffle.
She lifted her hand to the cool brick to steady herself. It was starting already. The repercussions of her decision on Saturday. Grammy had warned her people would use it against her. One mistake that wasn’t even really a mistake, but she was still going to pay a price.
“Pancakes and waffles. He’s going with a breakfast slogan.” Maggie startled as Griffin moved into the shadows between the two buildings, the
heat of his body making the air in the cool shade rise several degrees. “I prefer eggs and bacon, if you were wondering.”
“It’s not fair,” she whispered, her gaze straying back to the sign.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘I skip meals because I’m on a diet’ women,” he said, shaking his head. “Or worse, that you only have smoothies in the morning.”
She blinked, turned to face the man at her side. He wore an olive green T-shirt, frayed at the collar, and faded jeans with a baseball cap on his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Breakfast.” He said the word like it was obvious. “I told you my penchant for protein and you answered, ‘It’s not fair.’”
She scrunched up her nose, trying to follow his meandering train of thought. “I wasn’t talking about food.” She pointed to the sign across the street. “I meant it’s not fair that Jason can use the fact that I canceled the wedding as part of his campaign.”
Griffin tapped his chin as if he was just catching on to her meaning. “The waffling thing?”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “The waffling thing.”
“That guy has rocks for brains, obviously. It’s been that way since we were kids. My nana barely acknowledged his part of the family, but Trevor and I used to have a great time baiting him at random family functions when we were together. We could tell him anything and he’d believe it. He’s got the IQ of a caveman.”
“Once again,” Maggie said, holding up a hand, “I’m going to ask. What are you talking about?”
“Waffling,” Griffin explained. “Not the breakfast food this time. He’s not using the word right. To waffle you would have to walk away from Trevor, then change your mind and try to get back together with him. To waffle is to not be able to make up your mind. That wasn’t what happened.” One thick brow rose. “Unless you’re thinking of reuniting?”
“Of course not.”
“Then there’s no waffling.” He leaned in closer and she could smell the clean scent of shampoo and soap. Her stomach dipped. “Have you ever done it before?”
Falling for the Wrong Brother Page 5
