The Engagement Arrangement Page 17

  He grinned. “How about I make us some breakfast?”

  “Fabulous idea. I’ll help.”

  They got up and cleaned up, then headed into the kitchen. Finn opened the door and called for Murphy, who came rambling in from the woods. He gave Murphy his food and set out fresh water for him, and then he and Brenna made bacon, eggs and toast along with sliced cantaloupe and orange juice.

  Brenna took a slice of her toast and dredged it through her eggs. “You know we could have gone to the main house for breakfast.”

  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have been alone with you.”

  She gave him an unfathomable look. “That’s true. And everyone would have stared.”

  “You think so? I don’t think so. I don’t think anyone cares whether we’re dating or not.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Oh, come on, Finn. You know the family. They’ll care.”

  “So I should expect the third degree from your dad?”

  She shrugged and grabbed a slice of bacon, took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe. He likes you so he probably figures you and I together is okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Jury’s out. My mom, on the other hand, might have a few things to say about me having hot sex with the hired help.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “Oh, now I’m the hired help?”

  She winked at him, then dipped her toast in his eggs.

  “Hey, no stealing my food.”

  “I ate all my eggs.”

  “I can make more for you.”

  “I’m good.”

  He looked her up and down. “You sure are.”

  “And you’re good for my ego. I might just keep you around for a while.”

  “You have to. We have to present our fake-engaged selves to Esther and Brock at their party or present opening or whatever it was they said.”

  “Right. Which means I’ll have to put up with Mitchell and Allison again.”

  He could tell she was still bothered by that. He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Hey. We have this fake engagement down to a science now. We’ve got this.”

  Her lips curved. “Yes. We do.”

  And maybe, if everything went according to plan, he could arrange a few more events to keep the fake engagement going. At least until Brenna realized the two of them belonged together as a couple. Then they could forget the fake engagement and just—be.

  He was looking forward to that day.

  CHAPTER

  • • • • • •

  eighteen

  BRENNA MEANDERED AMONG her Riesling grapes, checking each bundle for ripeness. She had staff to do this, but these were her babies, and it was nearly time for harvest.

  Despite the oppressive heat, she enjoyed walking the vineyard and reviewing the vines. She did it every afternoon before she left for the day, making sure that every vine was secure, that pests were controlled, that nothing was out of order.

  As usual, all the vines were in great shape, the leaves beautiful, the grapes plump and ready to pick.

  Next week should produce a bountiful harvest. She couldn’t wait.

  She spotted her father out there among the grapes as well. Then again, when wasn’t he out there?

  “Bellissimo, eh?” he asked.

  “Si, Papa,” she replied. “Everything looks good. We have our seasonal staff lined up for the harvest next week.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’m anxious to get my hands on these Rieslings. And the sauvignon blanc not too far behind them.”

  As much as she knew about winemaking, her father knew ten times more. He’d been standing in vineyards since he was a child in Italy, and he was a master at his craft.

  “Don’t stand too long in the sun.”

  “You sound like your mama. I’m fine.” He pointed to his head. “I’m wearing a hat. She makes me wear sunscreen.”

  She laughed. “Because she loves you.”

  He waved his hand at her in dismissal and went back to walking the lanes.

  “Bye, Daddy,” she said.

  “Addio, bambina mia.”

  She smiled.

  She was about to head into the main house and get a cold drink when she saw the door open to Finn’s warehouse where he made his whiskey. Murphy was asleep outside in the shade. She hadn’t seen Finn all day, which wasn’t unusual since they were both busy, but she was curious, so she walked that way.

  When she walked through the doors, she stopped, blinked and looked around, not believing what she saw.

  He had an entire distillery in here, not some layman’s half-assed whiskey-making apparatus, but a still and barrels and a fermentation station. It looked professional as hell. Granted, it wasn’t a huge operation, but it was still an operation.

  What. The. Hell?

  She walked in and found him crouched down over a still, reading temperatures and writing notes.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  He looked up at her. “Uh, whiskey making?”

  “I can see that. Where did all this stuff come from?”

  He stood and looked down at her. “Stores, mostly.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You’re being deliberately evasive and you know exactly what I’m asking.”

  “I bought it. Well, your dad and I did. He’s invested in my whiskey business.”

  Unbelievable. She crossed her arms. “Oh, so now you have a whiskey business.”

  He gave her a smile, which only irritated her more. “Not yet. But someday.”

  There was that word again. Someday. Which meant nothing when one was talking about what looked like a sizable investment in equipment. “How much did all of this cost?”

  “Why do you care? Your father likes my whiskey. If I recall, you liked it, too.”

  “I did, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “Doesn’t mean what?” He turned to face her. “That you think I could sell it? That I could do something that’s worthwhile with it? That only the great Brenna Bellini could make a sellable consumable product that people will like?”

  He was twisting her words. “That’s not at all what I meant.”

  “Then tell me what’s wrong with me making whiskey.”

  He was mad. She could see it on his face. “I just . . . I . . .”

  He waited, while she tried to form an explanation for why she felt so twisted up inside. Maybe it was because she hadn’t bothered to show any interest in his whiskey making before. Maybe it was because she felt a little jealous that her father had invested in this without telling her. Before now it had always been her and her dad making magic together with wine.

  Now it was Finn and her dad and whiskey?

  “I don’t know. I just don’t like it.”

  “What is it that you don’t like, Brenna? The whiskey, the fact that your dad invested in it? Or is it me?”

  Her head was pounding and she couldn’t answer him, not when he was looking at her with concern and maybe a little hurt in his eyes.

  “I don’t know. I have to go.”

  She turned and left the building, heading straight for the house. She went in through the back door, grateful not to see anyone as she headed down the hall. She’d almost made it to the stairs when she ran straight into her sisters.

  “Oh, hey,” Erin said. “Ooh, you look hot.”

  “Have you been at the vineyards?” Honor asked. “It’s like a million degrees outside this afternoon.”

  “You want some ice water?” Erin asked.

  “No. I don’t want anything other than to be left alone.” She circled around them and up the stairs to her room and shut the door. She paced back and forth, realizing all that did was keep her in her own head, and she didn’t like the thoughts there. She stripped off her clothes, wound up
her hair and got in the shower to wash off the dirt and sweat from the vineyard. Once she got out, she climbed into shorts and a tank top and flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  What was wrong with her? Why did she jump all over Finn about the whiskey?

  She heard a knock on the door and didn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

  “Come in.”

  “We brought you some ice water,” Honor said, carrying a glass as she came in. “You looked awfully heated when you first came in.”

  “At least you showered,” Erin said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “Because you were heated both physically and emotionally.”

  Brenna pushed herself up to sit, taking the glass Honor handed her. “Thanks. I’m sorry. I was in a mood.”

  “I’ll say,” Erin said. “What’s up?”

  “I had a fight with Finn.”

  “Uh-oh.” Honor pulled up the chair next to the bed. “Tell us about it.”

  “It was stupid. I was stupid. I said stupid things.”

  Erin looked to Honor, then at Brenna. “Well now we really want to hear about it.”

  Brenna couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you do.”

  Erin shrugged. “Hey, I’ve acted like an ass on my fair share of occasions. It’s only fair you get a turn.”

  “That’s true,” Honor said, and when Erin shot her a look, she gave her an innocent shrug. “What? It is true.”

  “It is,” Brenna said. “But this time it was me. Did you all know that Finn is making whiskey in his warehouse?”

  “Yes,” Honor said.

  Erin nodded. “Of course. What did you think he was doing out there? Making pizza?”

  “Well, no. I knew he dabbled, and that Dad let him build that big building. But there’s a whole manufacturing facility in there now. A still and barrels and pipes and fermentation and everything.”

  “Brenna,” Honor said. “Haven’t you ever been in there?”

  “Well, no.”

  “You did know Dad invested in Finn’s whiskey production, right?” Erin asked.

  Apparently she was the only one who didn’t know that. “Uh, no, I did not. And that’s what I laid into him about.”

  Honor shot her a look of concern. “Oh, Brenna, why?”

  And wasn’t that the question of the day? “I don’t know. I guess it was the surprise of seeing all the equipment. I thought he was just playing around with a home still, and I expected something . . . smaller. I had no idea he had a whole potential business going.”

  “And that upset you . . . why, exactly?” Erin asked.

  “Again, I don’t know. I wish I did.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling shame for how she’d reacted.

  “Maybe because Dad invested in Finn and didn’t tell you about it?” Honor asked.

  She looked over at Honor. “That’s partly it. You know, Dad and I have always been about the winemaking. That’s been our thing. You do the weddings, and Erin has the business mind.”

  “And you and Dad have always had the winemaking,” Erin said. “It’s been just the two of you since you were little. You always wanted to be out there in the vineyard with him.”

  “And now he’s developed an interest in what Finn is doing,” Honor said. “It’s natural for you to feel a little jealous about that.”

  “It’s petty,” Brenna said. “Finn is like a son to Dad. And Finn . . . he’s so proud of what he’s doing. And I just stomped all over it.”

  Erin shrugged. “Your feelings are your feelings, Bren. You have a right to feel them, even if they are petty. But how you treated Finn, well, we don’t know what you said, but if you hurt him, then you’ll have to fix that.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I will. Thank you for hearing me out. And for not telling me I’m a terrible person.”

  Honor laid her hand on Brenna’s arm. “We’re your sisters. We’d never tell you that.”

  “Unless you killed someone,” Erin said.

  Honor nodded. “Then we’d tell you that what you did was terrible.”

  “After we helped you bury the body,” Erin said with a smirk.

  “Erin!” Honor said.

  Brenna laughed and felt immensely better. But she was still going to have to apologize to Finn.

  She changed into something a little more appropriate for dinner, hoping he’d be there, that they’d get a chance to talk after. Her stomach sank in disappointment when he didn’t show up at the table. And when her parents asked where he was, she said she thought he was busy doing something. But after dinner, she walked over to his place, disappointed again to find that he wasn’t there.

  She thought about texting him, but he was obviously upset or he would have come to dinner or stayed home. He had to know she’d come to her senses and apologize.

  Then again, who was she to expect anything from Finn? She’d acted like a total bitch today. He probably didn’t want to see her at all.

  She walked back to the house feeling more miserable than ever.

  And it was all her fault.

  CHAPTER

  • • • • • •

  nineteen

  FINN WALKED INTO the Screaming Hawk craft brewery and looked around. He spied both Jason and Clay at a corner table and headed their way. Owen was behind the bar working and waved as he walked by.

  It was good to see Owen at work. He was still thin from his cancer treatments, but he was starting to get some color back in his face and he looked stronger than he had when this had all started.

  He got to the table and saw that Jason and Clay already had beers.

  “Be right back,” he said.

  He went to the bar and waited while Owen dealt with another customer. When he finished, Owen made his way to him.

  “What’s up, Finn?” Owen asked.

  “Not much. How’s it going with you?”

  “Oh, you know, running a brew pub. Just living life.”

  Which Finn knew meant a lot more to Owen these days than ever before.

  “That’s great. And, hey, you’re looking good. Much healthier since the last time I saw you.”

  Owen smiled. “Thanks. I’m feeling pretty good, too. Glad to see you guys here tonight.”

  “Sorry I haven’t been in a while. Been busy.”

  “I heard. Seeing Brenna, huh?”

  The one thing about everyone being close was that they always knew your business. “Something like that.”

  “What’ll you have?”

  Finn was grateful that Owen didn’t press for details about Brenna and him. He wasn’t in the mind-set for it tonight.

  “The Back in Black IPA.”

  “Should have known. Let me pull it for you.”

  Owen drew him a draft and Finn pulled out his money and paid him.

  “How’s the whiskey making going?”

  “Good. You should come by for a taste.”

  Owen scratched the side of his nose. “I try to steer clear of the Bellini property these days.”

  “I thought all was forgiven.”

  “It is, but I still think Erin needs her space.”

  Finn knew Owen felt bad for how everything went down with the wedding. Or the wedding that hadn’t happened between Owen and Erin. But it all had turned out for the best in the end. Erin had fallen in love with Jason and she was happy.

  Sometimes things just worked out the way they were supposed to. It sucked that Owen had backed out at the last minute without telling Erin he was sick, but he’d been scared and he hadn’t wanted to hurt Erin, which he’d ended up doing anyway. He’d apologized to Erin and her family, and they’d all eventually forgiven him.

  To Finn, it was all water under the bridge. People fucked up sometimes, and if their intentions were good, you forgave them and moved on. Holding a gr
udge only made you miserable in the end.

  Which didn’t mean Finn wasn’t still irritated at Brenna. He didn’t know what the hell her issue was with him making whiskey, or with her dad investing in it. But when he’d tried to get her to open up about her feelings, she’d bailed on the conversation. On him. And that was the part that pissed him off the most.

  When Jason had texted asking if he wanted to go out for beers tonight, he figured getting away to clear his head was a good idea. Besides, he hadn’t been out with his friends in a while, and he’d been meaning to come see Owen. He’d dropped Murphy over at the main house with Johnny and drove in to town, stopped to eat a burger, then met the guys here.

  He took his beer to the table and sat.

  “We were just talking about wedding plans,” Clay said.

  “Whose?” Finn asked. “Yours or Jason’s?”

  “Both, actually. Though Jason got the jump on us with their speeded-up shotgun wedding,” Clay said, slanting a sly smile at Jason.

  “Promise. No shotguns will be in attendance at our wedding. And my fiancée is not pregnant. That I know of.”

  Finn laughed. “Considering how fast this wedding is coming about, I don’t think the Bellinis would be all that upset if you added a baby to the mix.”

  Jason held up his hands. “One thing at a time. With the wedding and moving in together, that’s more than enough. We can wait on a baby.”

  Finn and Clay looked at each other.

  “You watch,” Clay said. “Erin will be pregnant by the time Alice and I get married next year.”

  Finn nodded. “Not even going to bet on that one. It’s a sure thing.”

  Jason went a little pale. “Come on, guys. Give me a break.”

  Finn laughed and took a long drink of his beer. It was intense and had the perfect bitterness, just the way he liked it. Owen really knew how to brew beer. He was glad to see his friend back to doing what he loved again. Though he hadn’t known Owen as long as Jason and Clay had, they’d become friends as soon as Finn had come to the United States.

  All the guys had taken him under their wing and decided right then and there that Finn would be part of their inner circle, despite them knowing nothing about him. If the Bellinis had given him their seal of approval, that was good enough for Jason, Owen and Clay, and from then on, they’d done everything together: hanging out in the summers when everyone was home from college, going out to celebrate milestones and birthdays and hanging out at the lake or going fishing.