Falling for the Wrong Brother

by Michelle Major

  “I-it?” she stammered, her mind racing in a thousand inappropriate directions.

  His lips curved like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Walked away from a wedding,” he clarified.

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t even be considered a serial runaway bride.” He flashed a wide grin. “Get it? Serial versus cereal. I’m sticking with the breakfast analogies.”

  Maggie groaned but her chest no longer felt like an anvil was weighing it down. “Enough,” she said, stifling a laugh. “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced around the shadowed walkway. “I was heading to the hardware store and saw you in a dark alley. I thought you might need rescuing from a pickpocket or potential mayor-napper or something along those lines.”

  Maggie frowned.

  “Rescuing is the wrong word.” He held up his hands. “Backup. I thought you could use backup.”

  Once again Griffin had found her in a moment of need and was managing to make her feel better. His hair curled around the edges of his ball cap, and there was a layer of stubble shadowing his jaw like he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. Trevor had always been immaculately smooth shaven, to the point where Maggie wondered if he was one of those guys who drove around with an electric razor in his glove compartment.

  Not Griffin. Griffin probably didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Or what anyone thought of her, for that matter.

  “I was going to get lunch,” she said. Then she added on in a rush of breath, “Want to come?”

  He studied her for a moment, scratching his jaw. How could that sound be so sexy? Then he leaned out from the shadows, glancing toward the front of city hall. “Why are you sneaking out the back door?” he asked, his gaze returning to her. “Did you need to stow your cape in the alley before hitting the light of day?”

  She snorted. “I’m the antihero around here these days.”

  “You shouldn’t be relegated to shadows, Maggie May. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  The knot around her heart began to tighten again, and she raised fingers to her chest like she could manage her breathing that way. “Last Saturday was this town’s version of a royal wedding, and I ruined it.”

  “Trevor—”

  “I’m not heartbroken,” she interrupted. “I’m embarrassed and angry but not heartbroken. People are going to see it in my face. I’m not even sure I really wanted to marry your brother, and part of me is relieved I had an excuse to walk away. That makes me the biggest coward on the planet.” She threw out a hand toward the park across the street. “I’m worse than a waffler or a serial heartbreaker. I’m a big fat chicken.”

  “That’s not breakfast,” he said with a smile, “but you can serve it with waffles, so I’ll let it slide.”

  She huffed out another laugh. “Do you take anything seriously?”

  “Too much,” he admitted quietly and while she couldn’t name the emotion that darkened his green eyes for a fleeting moment, she felt it all the way to her toes. “Let’s go have lunch, Maggie. If this town wants something to talk about, we’ll give it to them.”

  She bit down on her lip and nodded, unable to form words at the moment without breaking down completely. With Griffin at her side, she stepped out into the bright sunshine of the perfect June afternoon.

  Chapter Six

  Griffin and Maggie were on the receiving end of several nasty stares as they walked a block to the restaurant. The Kitchen was obviously as popular now as it had been when he was a kid, based on the crowd milling about on the sidewalk.

  A gaggle of women openly pointed and whispered until Maggie lifted a jaunty hand and called out a greeting. He was so damn proud of her in that moment, even though he could see her fingers shaking as she lowered her arm and clutched it to her side.

  “Is my brother that popular in town these days? I can’t figure out why everyone cares about your wedding.”

  The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her upper lip, sending a shocking jolt of awareness through him. This was the third version of Maggie he’d seen since returning to Stonecreek, this one different than either the perfectly coiffed runaway bride or the dejected, deflated woman cleaning up at the reception hall late at night.

  Today she wore what he imagined amounted to her version of a power suit—a tailored skirt and matching jacket in a pale shade of blue with a white scoop-neck T-shirt underneath. Her hair was pulled back into an understated ponytail. Her makeup—if she wore any—was subtle. Maybe a coat of mascara highlighting her gray eyes and a bit of lip gloss, but he could see the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. He liked her better like this than fancy as she’d been on her wedding day. She even smelled different, more like fresh shampoo and less like expensive perfume.

  She was more the Maggie he remembered but still changed from the girl he’d once known. Her gaze was unsure and her shoulders hunched ever so slightly.

  His gut had twisted when he’d seen her cowering in the shadowed alley. All the color drained from her face as she stared at the campaign sign his idiot relative had strategically placed across the street from city hall. Jason wasn’t book smart, but he clearly still had a mean streak a mile long.

  Griffin should have walked away, turned around and gotten back in the Land Cruiser. He’d come into town to talk to Kurt Meyer, who owned the town’s hardware store and lumber supply company. There was a big-box store about forty minutes up the road, but Griffin was determined to use local vendors as much as he could for the project at the vineyard. Instead, he’d walked right past the hardware store and crossed the street to town hall, inserting himself into business that didn’t concern him in the least.

  “It’s not exactly about Trevor,” she said, turning to him just before they got to the restaurant. “It’s bigger than that. You know what our two families mean to this town.”

  “The nonwedding doesn’t change anything.”

  “Are you sure?” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “The truce between the Spencers and the Stones has been tenuous at best. A lot of people around here remember a time when the families’ fighting spelled disaster for the rest of the town.”

  “That was the past. Nothing like that would happen now.”

  Maggie picked an invisible piece of lint from her sleeve. “The wedding cost the vineyard both publicity and wine—all those bottles specially labeled for the occasion. You’ve been gone a long time. Things have changed. Stonecreek relies on support from the vineyard. Your family backs the hospital foundation, the school district, and a grant from Harvest almost single-handedly paid for the renovation of the arts center. But the money is only pledged.”

  “You think my mother will take it away?”

  “I hope not.”

  Irritation bubbled up in Griffin, both at the insinuation that his mother would be so catty and the knowledge that Jana Stone might revel in a bit of behind-the-scenes vengeance. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “You don’t need to get involved.”

  They reached The Kitchen, leaning closer as Maggie entered the bustling restaurant. “Too late for that, sweetheart.”

  His aim had been to distract her. Her anxiety was a palpable force, and he didn’t want her to face the crowd in the restaurant showing any kind of weakness.

  As soon as he followed her through the door, Griffin realized his mistake. Who was he kidding? As waitstaff and customers at the scuffed Formica tables turned to gawk, he wanted to whisk Maggie away from there to someplace quiet and safe.

  He wasn’t pretending to be involved to distract her. He cared. A few moments of vulnerability peppered with some spunky attitude and this woman had him wrapped around her little finger.

  He was passing through Stonecreek, here to make right his past mistakes. He couldn’t afford to care. Not about Maggie Spencer or how she fared in the town. Not about his duplicitous brother or r
unning interference on any possible retribution his mom might try to concoct.

  Griffin had made a life for himself away from the quirks of small-town life. First in the army and then as a contractor for various companies around the Pacific Northwest. But the one constant in his life was that he didn’t set down roots. Ever.

  Maggie was as established in Stonecreek as those hundred-year-old oak trees that bordered the town square. The two of them were oil and water, and it was only going to hurt them both if he didn’t cut things off right now.

  Then she turned to him, pushing her hair behind her ears and giving him a wisp of a smile filled with gratitude and hope and just the tiniest amount of steel.

  Hell, she slayed him.

  “We don’t have your usual table available,” the waitress behind the counter announced, her voice so cold it could freeze water.

  “That’s okay, Ginnie,” Maggie said brightly. “Griffin and I will sit at the counter.”

  The woman, unfamiliar to Griffin, gave him a long stare. “Are you Griffin Stone?”

  “Yep,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before. You must be new to Stonecreek.”

  “Been here five years,” the woman said with a sniff. She had blond hair that had been colored blue at the ends, wore heavy black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Her uniform was a The Kitchen T-shirt and a pair of multicolored leggings under a black miniskirt. She glanced at Maggie, then back to Griffin. “I’m a friend of your brother’s. I hope he’s doing okay after what happened. Tell him Ginnie sends her love.”

  Griffin felt Maggie stiffen next to him. He placed a hand on her back, gently guiding her to two empty seats at the counter. “He’s fine.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” an older man said from the table behind him.

  Griffin glanced over, then did a double take. “Hey, Grady. How’s business?”

  Grady Wilson had owned the gas station in Stonecreek for as long as Griffin could remember. He used to love to go with his dad for a fill-up because Grady always gave him a piece of licorice from behind the counter. “They opened one of those fancy convenience stores just outside of town. It has a dozen gas pumps and a hundred ways to flavor a soda. I’ve tried to modernize things, but it’s been a struggle.” He inclined his head toward Maggie, who sat straight in her chair, pretending to study her menu. “Would have helped me if the town council had refused their application for a lease.”

  Maggie’s lips pursed. “That land was in the next county so not under our domain,” she said quietly. “He knows that.”

  “But that’s not as bad as my Gloria’s heartbreak after this weekend.”

  “Mrs. Wilson still teaching?” Griffin asked, not liking where the conversation was headed. Gloria Wilson had been his third-grade teacher and one of the few in his not-so-illustrious academic career to think he had any potential.

  Grady shook his head. “Retired last year. Her arthritis got too bad to stand for long periods. Doesn’t get out much, but she’d been looking forward to the wedding for months. Your mother was kind enough to invite us.”

  “I invited them,” Maggie muttered under her breath.

  “She about cried her eyes out Saturday afternoon. I haven’t seen her that upset since Ross and Rachel broke up.”

  “Ross and Rachel got back together,” Ginnie added, sliding two waters onto the counter in front of Maggie and Griffin. “I suppose there’s always hope.”

  Griffin watched Maggie draw in a shaky breath, then square her shoulders. She looked directly at Ginnie. “I’ll have a grilled-chicken sandwich and a diet soda, please,” she said with a forced smile. “And there’s no hope for Trevor and me.”

  “A cheeseburger and fries for me,” Griffin said. “Along with a sweet tea.”

  Maggie turned in her seat. “Please tell Mrs. Wilson I’m sorry she was upset. I didn’t mean to disappoint anyone, but Trevor and I—”

  “I heard Trevor was as surprised as the rest of us,” a heavyset man called from the pass-through between the diner and the kitchen.

  “The two of us made the decision together,” Maggie insisted, but there was no fight in her voice.

  “Gloria worried this would happen,” Grady said, shaking his head. “When those two first got together, she told me it would divide the town when things went south.”

  Griffin massaged a hand along the back of his neck. “It hasn’t divided the town.”

  “Because everyone around here’s on Team Trevor,” Ginnie said, leaning over the counter toward him. She smiled as she handed him a glass of tea, then flicked a glance toward Maggie. “No offense.”

  Maggie nodded, not daring to mention her diet soda. She turned back around in her seat. “None taken, I guess.”

  “I take offense.” Griffin spun on his stool to address the entire restaurant. “And I’m speaking for my entire family. No one is angry with Maggie.”

  Grady laughed and leaned back in his chair, nudging the man who sat at the table next to him. “Less than a week back in town, and the black sheep is now the family spokesman.”

  “This was a terrible idea,” Maggie said under her breath.

  “No.” Griffin pointed a finger toward Grady. “I’m not the spokesman, but I’ve talked to my brother. He doesn’t blame Maggie.” He pressed his lips together so the words because the breakup was his fault wouldn’t fall from them. “Would I be here with her if there was bad blood between our families?”

  “Why are you here with her?” Ginnie asked, folding her arms over her chest.

  “We ran into each other on the street,” Maggie said quickly, “and were both headed to lunch. It was a coincidence.”

  “We’re friends,” Griffin said simply. Despite how hard she was trying to keep it together, it was obvious Maggie needed a friend right now.

  “Your brother is okay with that?” Ginnie raised a heavily penciled brow.

  “There’s no bad blood,” Griffin repeated. He shifted, held out his hands to encompass all of the restaurant patrons. “Everyone hear the news? Spread it around. The Stones and the Spencers are still friends.”

  “Other than Jason,” a voice called from one of the far tables.

  “Jason doesn’t count,” Griffin shot back. “You know that.”

  Hushed laughter rippled through the room and the tension eased. He turned back around and picked up a french fry from the plate Ginnie had just set before him, popping it into his mouth.

  He chewed for a few seconds before turning to Maggie. “This town is too small for its own good.”

  She gave a tiny nod, her eyes guarded as she stared at him. “Thank you. This time you really did play the hero.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he said and dipped a fry into the ranch dressing drowning the sad pieces of lettuce the cook had seen fit to bestow upon her. “It was a onetime deal. I’m not the tights-wearing type.”

  Her mouth quirked at the edges. “I’ll remember that, although back in high school you had the butt to pull off tights.”

  “I was a jerk back in high school.”

  “No argument from me,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he said softly and was rewarded with a blush that colored her cheeks the most adorable soft pink hue.

  “I’m not sure I forgive you,” she said with a small smile, “but I shockingly like the man you’ve become.”

  Griffin’s heart flipped, and he rubbed a hand against his chest, wholly unused to any activity from that part of his anatomy. It was simple praise, and maybe a little backhanded, but he felt proud to have earned it.

  “It’s not shocking,” he said casually. “I’m irresistible. Everyone knows it. Ask Ginnie. She’ll tell you.”

  Maggie’s grin widened as she looked over to the young waitress, who was busy staring at Griffin and n
ot so busy paying attention to her customers.

  “I think she’s available,” Maggie said with a laugh.

  “I’m not interested in her,” Griffin answered, letting his gaze lower to Maggie’s full mouth, then sighing as it pressed into a thin line.

  “I should go,” she said, her fork dropping to the plate with a clatter. “Now that I’ve outed myself in town, there are some businesses I need to check in with before the garden center open house this weekend.” She pulled out her wallet and grabbed a wad of bills.

  “Lunch is my treat,” Griffin said, adjusting his ball cap and regretting his inherent need to flirt with this woman. He’d spooked her, which made her ten times smarter than him. The strange connection between them could go nowhere. They both knew it. But Griffin had a lot of experience ignoring things that he should do in favor of things he wanted to do. Apparently, Maggie Spencer was no exception.

  “I insist on paying.” She slapped some money onto the counter and took a step away. “It’s the least I can do since I forced you to have lunch with me.”

  He laughed. “No one forces me to do anything I don’t want to.”

  Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “Okay, then. Be sure to tell your mom that everything is copacetic with our families. I’ll work on Grammy.”

  “Right.” Griffin muttered a curse under his breath. He didn’t want their families to be involved. He didn’t want to admit most of the restaurant was staring at the two of them, and tongues would be wagging throughout town that Maggie had been spotted with the other Stone brother. The black sheep, as Grady had so helpfully pointed out. Griffin didn’t want any of this.

  Except Maggie. Despite everything else, he wanted Maggie more with each moment they spent together.

  “I’ll see you around. Thanks, Ginnie,” she called, then turned to Grady. “Tell Gloria I’ll save her seats in the first row for the benefit concert the high school a cappella group is doing at the garden center this weekend. I know she loves hearing the kids sing.” She stepped forward, placed a hand on the man’s meaty hand. “I’m really sorry I disappointed her. Sorry about everything.”