Falling For The Wrong Brother

Chapter Two

Griffin pushed open the church doors and strode through, ignoring the gasps and stares of the small crowd still gathered near the front of the sanctuary.

His younger brother stood in the center aisle between the pews, talking to a woman Griffin didn’t recognize, although she seemed vaguely familiar.

Growing up it felt like Griffin had known everyone in the close-knit community, and he’d chafed at both the expectations and scrutiny of being part of one of Stonecreek’s founding families. How could he expect anonymity when the town bore his family’s damn name?

He hadn’t asked for any of it. Small-town life had been stifling enough to a rambunctious kid without the added pressure of trying to live up to what his parents wanted from him. It had been presumed he’d be groomed to take over the helm of the family vineyard. Everyone in town—except his father—had seen his future like it had already come to pass.

Griffin knew Dave Stone would never have allowed him to take over the business. Griffin hadn’t been able to please his demanding father, and by the time he’d hit his troubled teen years, he’d stopped trying. Let Trevor be lauded as the family’s favored child. Griffin had always been more suited to the role of black sheep.

He watched as Trevor smiled and inclined his head as the older woman patted his shoulder, playing the part of the brokenhearted groom to a T. If he hadn’t been set on becoming the family scion, Trevor could have had a career in Hollywood. This little performance showed he was a consummate actor, although Griffin didn’t believe a moment of it.

People turned as he stalked up the aisle, but his full attention was on Trevor. He hadn’t seen his brother since their father’s funeral four years ago. Trevor was a couple of inches shorter than Griffin, his hair a shade lighter, making him look even more the golden son.

“Griffin.” Trevor’s deep voice boomed through the nearly empty sanctuary. He opened his arms, preparing to greet the prodigal brother with a hug. As if that would ever happen. “Good to see you, man. Sorry you came all this way for—”

Griffin slammed his fist into Trevor’s face without a second thought, the sharp pain in his knuckles a welcome outlet for his frustration.

Trevor muttered a curse as he stumbled back a few steps, covering his left eye with one hand. “What the hell was that for?”

“You tell me.” Griffin shook out his hand, then turned to meet the shocked gazes of the people still standing in the back of the church. “If you folks will excuse us, my brother and I need to speak in private.”

“Maggie left him,” said the older woman, whom Griffin finally recognized as his high school health teacher. “She walked out just as the ceremony was starting. It wasn’t his fault. Trevor’s the victim here. His poor face.”

“Victim,” Griffin repeated. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know anything,” Trevor said, the skin around his eye already turning a satisfying shade of purple.

“Really?” Griffin crossed his arms and arched a brow, letting Trevor know without words that he wasn’t fooled by the jilted-groom act. “Do you want to have this conversation here or in private? Think long and hard about your answer, Trev.”

Griffin was bluffing. Maggie had told him nothing, but he couldn’t shake his suspicion that she’d had more of a reason for playing the runaway bride than she’d let on. Walking away wasn’t in her character, and he didn’t buy his self-important brother as the jilted groom for one minute.

Trevor stared at him for a moment, his eyes unreadable. Then a muscle ticked in his jaw, and Griffin wanted to punch him again. He recognized Trevor’s tell from when they were kids, and Griffin knew without a doubt his brother was guilty of something.

“I’m not going to bore these nice people with our family drama,” Trevor said, his tone smooth like Harvest Vineyards’ flagship pinot.

“It’s not boring,” the health teacher—Mrs. Davis if Trevor remembered correctly—said enthusiastically.

Trevor flashed the most charming smile he could with his swollen eye. “You’re a sweetheart, Mrs. D, and I’d appreciate a few of your famous oatmeal scotchies the next time you bake a batch. Right now, I’m going to take a minute with my brother.” He glanced around the church, as pious as a choirboy. “This isn’t the place for violence.”

Immediately, Griffin regretted letting his temper get the best of him. Or at least he regretted hitting Trevor in a church. His mother would have a fit when she heard about it, and he’d already caused Jana Stone enough trouble to last a lifetime.

“I’ll talk to you all soon,” Trevor called to the rest of the onlookers. “Thanks for the support today.”

Griffin looked over his shoulder as he followed Trevor toward the vestry. The few people who’d witnessed his outburst were whispering among themselves and met his gaze with a round of angry glares. Only an hour back in Stonecreek and he was bristling to escape again.

He didn’t bother closing the door as Trevor walked to a small refrigerator positioned in the corner of the room and pulled a bottle of water from it.

“Did you talk to Maggie?” he asked, wincing as he pressed the water bottle to his eye.

“Yes. I was late for the ceremony and saw her walking down the sidewalk.”

“I’m surprised you recognized her.”

“She was wearing a damn bridal gown.”

Trevor sighed. “I told her she could take my car when she left.”

“A gentleman to the end,” Griffin muttered, pacing to one side of the room and running a hand along the edge of the bookshelf lined with hymnals.

“What did she tell you?”

Griffin forced himself not to stiffen. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Maggie promised she wouldn’t talk. She said she understood.” Trevor blew out a frustrated breath. “Neither one of us meant for it to happen. I tried to cut things off. Hell, she was here with Tommy. He was one of my groomsmen. I introduced them four months ago. You remember him, right?”

“The fool who accidentally set himself on fire at homecoming your freshman year?”

“The bonfire after the football game got out of hand,” Trevor said almost reluctantly. “He’s grown up a lot since then. Sort of.”

“So you set your mistress up with an idiot? Nice backup plan.”

“I chose Maggie,” Trevor insisted. “But if she won’t forgive—”

“She didn’t tell me anything,” he said through clenched teeth.

Trevor’s mouth fell open. “Then how did you—”

“I didn’t,” Griffin interrupted. “Not until this moment. Maggie’s version was that she realized the two of you were better as friends and she couldn’t go through with the marriage.”

“It’s the truth,” Trevor said, dropping into a chair positioned next to a rack of black robes.

This cramped room wasn’t quite the pulpit, but Griffin still felt a stab of guilt for his violent thoughts under the church roof. “Not the whole truth.”

“Hell, Grif, I tried. We both did. This wedding meant more to the families—more to the town—than to either of us.”

“What a lame excuse for cheating.”

Trevor’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I wasn’t cheating today. Not really.”

“Then what did Maggie see?”

“Julia and I were kissing. A farewell kiss.”

“In the church before your wedding ceremony?” Griffin laughed without humor. “You’re going to act holier-than-thou because I punched you in the sanctuary? The angels were probably cheering me on.”

“What do you care?” Trevor demanded. “You told me you weren’t even going to be here today. Suddenly you feel the need to come to Maggie’s defense? You never liked her when we were younger. You have no relationship with her. I don’t get it.”

Griffin turned away toward the window overlooking the glen behind the church. The towering maple trees provided a lush green canopy, and tulips in a variety of colors lined the cobblestone path. Lilac bushes bloomed with lavender flowers, a short burst of color that would be gone by summer.

He’d spent most of the past decade in war-torn countries across the Middle East. Places baked by the sun, where it was as common to breathe in sand as air. There’d been moments where he’d felt like his throat would always be coated with the stuff, and he’d closed his eyes late at night and imagined himself back in this verdant valley.

He’d foregone college and joined the army against his parents’ wishes. Life in Stonecreek had felt like it was choking him after a stupid mistake fractured any possible relationship with his father. It wasn’t until he’d traveled halfway around the world that he’d realized how much home meant to him.

He hadn’t wanted to come back here. Too many demons from his past lurked in the shadows. It seemed like he’d never be able to shrug off the disappointment and failure that were part of who he was in this town.

Trevor was the living embodiment of that. Three years younger, his brother had a knack for causing trouble but not being caught up in it. It was like Trevor wore a coat of armor preventing people from seeing anything but the best in him. The polar opposite of Griffin.

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?”