Seductive One

19

Forty-eight hours later Brenna knew she had to drag herself down to the winery or spend the rest of her life in bed. As her sheets desperately needed washing almost as much as she needed a shower, she forced herself to get up and dressed. One of the Grands snuck in while she was in the bathroom and stripped the bed, which left her no choice but to venture out into daylight. From there it was a short walk to her cramped office in the winery.

The battered old desk was both comforting and familiar. The stack of mail and messages needing response gave her a sense of purpose, even though she still felt as if she were moving under water. Everything was slow and out of sync. Still, she sorted her phone messages into tidy piles. There weren’t any from Nic. Had he not called or was she not being told?

Did it matter? Why did it matter? The man had used her in every way possible while lying to her. Did she really care if he’d called? Was she that weak and spineless?

Yes, she thought sadly. She was.

But she was also really, really mad.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t love her back. She could accept that. Feelings existed for reasons no one could explain. So Nic not loving her wasn’t anyone’s fault. But the man had screwed with her future. He’d played with the one thing she’d loved even longer than him and there had to be something like a suitable punishment. Nobody messed with her wine and got away with it.

There was only one problem-the money. Circumstances being what they were, she doubted Nic was going to let her have access to her barrels. Which meant she couldn’t produce wine, which meant never paying him back. She was trapped, all because she’d trusted Nic.

Worst of all, because there was something uglier than the situation with the wine, she didn’t know how to stop loving him. Oh, she hated him with every fiber of her being, but for how long? And when she got over hating him, wouldn’t the love return? It had lasted through ten years of separation; why would she be lucky enough to have it end now?

Her grandfather appeared at her open door. “You’re here,” he said as he entered. “Better?”

“Some.”

A white lie, she told herself. Telling him about her pain would only make him hurt, too, and what was the point in that?

He took the seat in front of her desk and pointed to a pad of paper. “I want you to make a list for me. Outline everything you have at Wild Sea. How many barrels, what is in them.” He frowned. “You’re through fermenting, aren’t you?”

“I assume you mean the wine and not me personally.”

Her grandfather smiled. “Yes. The wine. Also, give me your copy of the loan.”

“Why?”

“No Marcelli will be beholden to that man.”

His kindness eased some of her pain. “You’re being really sweet, Grandpa, and I appreciate that. But we’re talking about over a million dollars.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “You’re my granddaughter. The loan will be paid back with interest, and your wine will be moved here as soon as possible.”

He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d broken into a chorus of “Oklahoma!”

“Why?” she asked. “I’m happy and thrilled beyond words. But this isn’t your responsibility. I’m the one who messed up. Nic will probably just dump the wine anyway. Not that it matters now.”

He glared at her. “Don’t tempt God to strike you down. The wine must be saved.”

“I think God’s a little busy with more important matters.” She tried to explain. “I may not have a choice about the loan. Nic will have to be paid back one way or the other, and without Four Sisters, I don’t have a prayer of doing it myself. As for my plans…” She looked at him. “Grandpa, I love you and you’ve been terrific through all of this, but you hate everything I do. Why would you want my experiments here?”

“I don’t hate what you do.”

She smiled for the first time in days. “Oh, please. We argue about everything. The blends, the day to start harvest, the temperature for fermentation. Label designs, pay raises, if it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

“I’m usually right about the weather.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “You think you’re right about everything. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to start my own label. I wanted to make all the decisions.”

“Were you happy doing that?”

She thought about the long nights and the endless hours of work. “Yes. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Then you have succeeded.”

“Not exactly the word I would use.”

“Not with your winery. The success of that will be measured later. I mean here. With me.” He watched her as he spoke. “You have passed the test.”

Brenna didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanted to be sure. When you were little, I knew you were the one. You loved the vines as much as I did.” He tilted his head. “By the time you were six, you could tell the type of grape by taste alone. I was so proud. You worked hard. Always up early, especially during harvest. When you were eleven, you were directing the men.”

Brenna remembered that summer. She’d been in charge of the Chardonnay grapes, and she’d felt so grown-up. The foremen had patronized her until they realized she knew what she was talking about, and then they’d treated her as someone to be reckoned with.

“When you married Jeff, I was pleased,” he said. “You would have a good man at your side while you worked the land.”

“But it didn’t turn out that way,” she reminded him. “I went away.”

He nodded. “I waited for you to return, for you to realize where you belonged, but you didn’t. Year after year I watched your husband bleed the life out of you until the granddaughter I had been so proud of disappeared. Then one day you came home. Not because you longed to be here, but because your husband had left you. You wanted to come back. To work here. But I asked myself, for how long now?”

Understanding clicked in her brain like a light going on. “You wanted to make sure I was staying,” she whispered.

“Yes. So I tested you to see if I could drive you away. I wanted to make sure that this time you wouldn’t give up. Not for anything.”

She both understood and resented his methods. “What about Joe? You offered him everything.”

“I did, but he would never have run things. I hoped…” He sighed. “An old man’s wishes. I wanted him to stay, and I thought with the winery, he would. But he would never have been the one. It was always you.”

She shook her head. “You were never going to sell.”

His expression turned sly. “You think not?”

Brenna covered her face with her hands. “Of course you wouldn’t. Oh, God. One more place I’ve been an idiot.” She put her hands back on the desk. “If worse came to worst, you would have left everything to Dad and had him hire a manager. After all, one of your granddaughters could have a child interested in the winery.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But that’s not necessary. You have proved yourself. You wanted it so much, you started your own label. You fought for what you believed, and you have earned your chance. You will carry on the tradition of Marcelli Wines and in time pass that tradition on to the next generation and the one after that.”

Brenna didn’t know what to say. She rose and circled around the desk. Her grandfather stood and held out his arms. She stepped into his embrace.

“Marcelli is yours,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll be here to watch over you, but you can start to make a few changes.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk. It was too much.

“So we’ll argue a little,” he continued. “The difference is now you get to win some of the time, eh?”

“Oh, Grandpa.”

He stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “This makes you happy?”

She nodded because it was still difficult to speak. There were details to be worked out. While she would be in charge of the winery, she knew it would be owned jointly by her sisters and Joe. But regardless of logistics, she would be the one shaping Marcelli Wines.

Bittersweet joy swept through her as relief mingled with pain. She finally had what she’d always wanted. She should be content…whole, even. So why did Nic have to be the first person she wanted to tell?

The rumble of several trucks interrupted Nic’s meeting with his sales managers. Despite his interest in the report being discussed, he found his attention straying to the window where the first large vehicle came into view. For several minutes he did his best to ignore the noise, but finally he was forced to excuse himself to check on what was happening.

He already knew, he told himself. Ever since his conversation with Mia, he’d been waiting for something like this. Confirmation had arrived that morning in the form of a cashier’s check for the amount Brenna owed him, plus accrued interest. The debt had been paid in full.

She’d come clean with her grandfather, and the old man had come through for her. Nic had never doubted his love and devotion, even if Brenna had questioned Lorenzo’s feelings. The Marcellis were family, and for them, the word meant something. Sacrifices were made. Acts of rebellion were explained and pardoned. In the end, no matter what, they had each other.

Nic crossed to the old fermentation building. A dozen or so men carefully loaded barrels of wine into the trucks. A man with a clipboard checked off the inventory. He saw Nic but didn’t speak to him. Nic was about to return to his office, when he heard a familiar voice. He froze.

Brenna?

He hurried toward the sound. Was she here? Could he explain?

“Brenna,” he said as he circled around one of the trucks.

Then he saw her standing beside several barrels, directing the men. Strong and sure and still not aware of him. She spoke with a firmness he recognized.

She looked tired, sad, yet beautiful. She’d always been beautiful.

“Brenna,” he repeated, and this time she heard him.

She turned and stared at him. There was no expression on her face, no way for him to gauge what she was thinking.

“Brenna, I-”

“Don’t,” she said coldly. “Don’t try weaseling your way out of all of this, Nic. I’m not interested.”

“I need to explain.”

“No, you don’t. There aren’t enough words in the world to excuse what you’ve done. There is nothing you can say to ever make me understand or forgive you.” She laughed harshly and without humor. “Big assumption on my part. That you’re here looking for absolution.”

He stepped toward her. “I am. I’m sorry. About everything.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care. Not anymore. Not ever again. Take your cheap apologies somewhere else. You’ve lied to me for the last time.”

With that she walked to one of the trucks and climbed into the passenger seat. The driver had already secured the wine barrels. Now he closed the back gate, climbed into the cab, and started the engine.

Nic stood there, watching them drive away.

He waited through the rest of the loading, and when the last truck disappeared down the driveway, he stood alone in the old building.

He’d known it was over-had realized that there was no way to undo what he’d done-but until her wine had been taken away, he’d thought maybe she might be willing to listen. If he could speak with her, explain, maybe he could make her understand.

Or was that just an ego-based fantasy? In truth she was gone because he’d never been willing to acknowledge she was important to him. She’d been a means to an end, not a person. Not a woman he loved. Had loved.

Hell, who was he kidding? Brenna was as much a part of him as his fingerprints. She’d stolen his heart a lifetime ago, and he would never get it back.

He crossed to one of the chairs still in the building and touched battered wood. They’d sat in these seats, talking, arguing, rediscovering the possibilities. She shared her dreams with him, he’d relived their past. Somehow ten years after the fact, they’d made peace with what had happened before.

They’d made love in this room. They’d shared bodies and hearts, and until this moment he hadn’t known how much that meant to him. Now there were only ghosts and echoes of what could have been. He’d fallen in love and he’d been too blind to see his feelings for what they were. He’d put away the past, but had lost the future.

Even without Marcelli Wines, Wild Sea would go on. The company would grow and prosper. The Giovanni family would never want for anything. As he had wanted, Nic had created a legacy that would continue indefinitely.

He sank into the chair and rested his head in his hands. Oh, yeah, he should be damn proud. He’d created a legacy for one. There were no children to carry on the family name, no wife to come home to. He lived with a dog. At the end of the day he stood alone.

For years he’d told himself that was what he wanted. That he needed no one. But he’d been lying. He ached for Brenna. Her voice, her laughter, her touch, her grit and determination, her fearlessness, her love, gave his life purpose. He’d never loved anyone else because he’d never stopped loving her. They were a part of each other. She’d seen that, but he’d been blinded by pride and ambition. Now they were all he had to keep himself warm at night.

The fault, the blame, the responsibility was all his. There was no delegating this disaster.

For the first time Nic wondered if Salvatore had ever regretted his act of revenge. He’d exacted a price for his best friend’s betrayal. Had he ever considered the cost too high? Had Salvatore lost more than he had gained?

For nearly a hundred years the Marcellis and Giovannis had been linked. First by friendship and dreams, and later by hatred and destruction. What was that old saying? Those who do not learn from the past are destined to repeat it. Well, Nic had finally learned, even if his great-grandfather had not. Success through destruction or revenge was an empty victory, and the price was paid by generations. He couldn’t change what Salvatore had done, nor could he undo his own reckless behavior. But he could make amends. They might not win back Brenna, but they would end the feud. Maybe that was the best he could hope for.

Twelve-year-old Kelly, Francesca’s soon-to-be stepdaughter, bounced in her seat. “So you, like, own the whole winery?” she asked. “You’re rich?”

Mia wrinkled her nose as she threaded a bead onto the needle. “We all own it equally, but Brenna gets to run things.” She turned to Katie. “Can we fire her if her head gets too big?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Brenna told her. “I have an anti-big-head clause in my contract.”

Mia shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s going to be enough.”

Brenna smiled because Mia was trying to be funny, and if she could convince her sisters that everything was fine, maybe they’d stop hovering around her.

They were trying to be kind. She understood they were concerned about her and wanted to help. But there wasn’t anything for them to do just now. She alone could endure and recover. In time she wouldn’t hurt so much.

Francesca finished beading the piece of lace and set it on the coffee table in front of her. “Look at the bright side, Mia. If Brenna gets out of hand, we can always threaten to take over those ocean-front four acres where she’s growing her precious Pinot grapes. Imagine the views we’d have from our front windows.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Brenna growled.

Katie grinned. “Good idea. I’ll talk to Grandpa about it,” she said in a mock whisper.

Kelly glanced at Francesca’s watch. “It’s been fifteen minutes,” she said. “The cookies should be cool enough to frost. May I be excused?”

“Of course.” Francesca smiled at Kelly. “While beading lace can be pretty exciting, I know it doesn’t compare with icing cookies. Why don’t you bring us a plate of them when you’re finished.”

“Okay.”

Kelly stood and dropped her piece of lace onto the loveseat, then raced into the kitchen.

Francesca glanced toward the kitchen, then back at Brenna. She lowered her voice.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Brenna forced a smile. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be okay. I have the winery and my family. I feel very loved and supported.” She glanced at her sisters and saw none of them looked convinced. She made an X over her heart. “I swear.”

“I should get in touch with Joe,” Mia grumbled. “He’d know what to do.”

Francesca shook her head. “Joe can’t help with the real problem.”

She exchanged a look with Katie that told Brenna the two of them had been talking about her.

Brenna sighed. “Okay. Out with it.”

Katie shrugged at Francesca. Brenna’s twin sighed.

“We know you’re still in love with him.”

Brenna didn’t consider that a news flash. “So?”

“So what happens now?”

“As far as I can tell, nothing happens. I keep moving forward. I work, I plan, I recover.”

“Do you want him back?”

Trust Francesca to cut to the heart of the matter. Did she want Nic back in her life? “Yes,” she said, then sighed. “How sick is that? The man betrayed me in the worst way possible, and I still want to be with him.”

“You’re not going to, though, are you?” Mia asked. “I mean he was so awful. Trying to buy the winery like that and using you. You’ve got to be mad at him.”

Brenna nodded. “Furious.”

Francesca looked at Mia. “It’s not that simple. Loving someone can be a complicated, multilayered situation. You hate the act, but still love the man.”

“I’ll get over it,” Brenna promised, then hoped she wasn’t lying.

“You don’t have to help with the dresses,” Katie said. “Not if it’s uncomfortable.”

“Hey, I’m still a member of this family,” Brenna reminded her. “I want to work on the dresses. I want you both to be wildly happy with the men you’re going to marry. I’m thrilled for you both, and I can’t wait to dance at your wedding. I just need a little time.”

None of her sisters looked convinced, but they dropped the subject. Mia talked about the classes she would be taking when school started the following week, and Katie told funny stories about an office party she’d catered. Brenna listened and nodded, laughing where she was supposed to and adding a comment now and then. She thought she did a pretty good imitation of someone getting by. Her goal was to never let them know how much she hurt inside. Forgetting Jeff had been a snap, which went to show how little she’d cared about her ex-husband. She knew loving Nic was a slick road to hell, but she couldn’t figure out how to make the feelings go away.

Give it time, she told herself. Time and wisdom and possibly an ocean of tears.

By early October the vines were ready for their winter rest. Brenna and her grandfather strolled through the rows of plants. A bright afternoon sun warmed the temperature into the low seventies, but as always, Brenna felt cold. She didn’t sleep much these days and food didn’t appeal to her. The previous night she’d actually not been in the mood for dinner. If she kept this up for long, she would be able to give Francesca a run for her money as the skinny sister.

“I tasted your Pinot yesterday,” her grandfather said. “Still too soon to tell, but I think maybe you were right about that land.”

Brenna pressed a hand to her chest. “Careful, Grandpa. Too many shocks like that and my heart will fail.”

He ignored her. “I think maybe we find another few acres right on the coast and plant some more. With the fog to keep the vines cool and salt air to add that touch of magic, we could create something very special.”

She turned and stared at him. “You want to buy land? Non-Marcelli acreage and put our name on the grapes?”

His gaze narrowed. “You never showed me the proper respect as a girl. As a woman, you’re no better at it.”

“Probably not, but that’s so beside the point. Wow. I don’t know what to think. Last week you let me make the final choice on the Chardonnay labels. So maybe next year I can use more of the premium Chardonnay for my white-wine blend?”

“You want it all,” he grumbled.

“What’s the point in wanting only half of it?”

The old man grinned proudly. “That’s my girl.”

Brenna chuckled. She and her grandfather still argued, but not as much as they once had. Now he listened to her opinions. In return, she was more open to the values of the old ways. While a part of her resented that he’d felt the need to test her, most of her understood his somewhat twisted reasoning. He was a traditional man. Leaving a woman in charge was a big step for him.

He pulled a book out of his jacket pocket and tapped the cover. “I’ve been reading this.”

Brenna recognized Sophia’s diary. Mia had brought it back with them when they’d gone to talk to their grandfather.

Seeing the old, battered cover made her think of Nic, but it took so little to bring him to mind.

“Mia already told you what Sophia wrote,” she said.

“I wanted to see the truth for myself.” He put the diary back in his pocket. “Who is to say which wrong is less hurtful? Antonio loved his best friend’s wife. A sin perhaps, but the greater sin was acting on that love. Sophia was not faithful to her husband. Salvatore insisted on her naming the man who betrayed him, then punished them both. Friends torn apart by a night of passion and a night of revenge. Families growing up to hate each other. The past circles around us, molding us. We seek to hold the past in our hands, but it cannot be caught. Perhaps it can only be set free.”

He glanced at her. “Maybe it is time to let old grudges go.”

Brenna stared at him. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?”

Because her grandfather and the feud had been woven into a single entity for as long as she could remember. Because hating the Giovanni family had helped define who she was as a person. Because if loving Nic hadn’t meant defying her family, she would have married him ten years ago.

It was too little too late, she thought sadly. She’d been given control of the winery, been told the feud should end, and now neither could ease the ache inside her heart.

She started to head back to the house, only to realize she didn’t recognize where they were. At some point in their walk, they’d left Marcelli land and walked onto Wild Sea property.

“The fence is gone,” she said. “All of it.”

She turned in a slow circle, searching for the thick posts and lengths of wire, but they had disappeared.

“Nicholas came to see me.”

Her grandfather spoke matter-of-factly. As if a visit by Nic was no big deal.

Brenna gaped at him. “He what?”

“Came to see me. We talked.” The old man shrugged. “About the past, and the future. How anger and revenge destroyed so much. He wanted to apologize for his great-grandfather. To make up for what went before.”

Nic had visited her grandfather? When? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

“He gave me this to give to you.”

Her grandfather held out a piece of paper. Brenna took it and tried to read it, but the words blurred together. Her chest ached and her stomach felt as if it were test-driving a new roller coaster.

“I don’t…” She gave back the paper.

Her grandfather smiled. “The land, Brenna. He’s deeded you all the land where Salvatore had grafted in the European vines. He couldn’t give you back what his grandfather had killed, so he’s giving you what he has. Not to me. Not to the Marcelli family. Just to you.”

She didn’t know what to think, she couldn’t think. It was too much. It didn’t make sense. Terror and hope and confusion swirled together in her mind. Then suddenly she saw a silhouette in the distance. She was too far away to see his features, but she knew him.

Her grandfather gave her a gentle push on the back. “So go listen. You like what he says, then fine. You don’t like, we get your brother to flatten him.”

Brenna didn’t think it was possible to move, but suddenly she found herself walking. Nic hurried toward her from across the field. In less time than she would have thought, they were standing in front of each other.

He looked awful. Dark shadows stained the skin under his eyes, and his face was gaunt. For the first time in her life she saw uncertainty in his eyes. Uncertainty and pain.

She understood both feelings. She was delighted to be close to him and terrified of being involved in another emotional hit-and-run. She loved him. She despised him. She wanted to throw him in the grape crusher and grind his bones to dust.

“I had this great speech I’ve been working on,” he said. “It was all logical and detailed. I explained why everything happened the way it did.”

“In it did you remember to call yourself a lying weasel dog?”

“No. I settled on a shit-for-brains bastard.”

“Close enough.”

“You hate me.” He sounded resigned.

“Are you surprised?”

“I’d sort of hoped…” He shrugged. “Maggie warned me that some acts are unforgivable.”

“She’s right. You used me, Nic. You took advantage of my dreams. You let me think you believed in me, when all the while you were looking for angles. You weren’t ever going to give me a chance to make Four Sisters a success. You led me on, and when the timing was right, you were going to rip it all out from under me.”

She glared at him. “You know what’s the worst of it? All the time you were planning to destroy my life, I was falling for you. I trusted you with my future and my heart, and you tried to screw with them both.”

She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place.

“You’re right,” he said loudly. “I did all that. You waltzed into my office, wanting a loan, and I saw it as a golden opportunity. I didn’t plan to use you, but when I got the chance, I took it. I gave you the money to get leverage with your grandfather and because I never thought you’d make Four Sisters work. I figured you’d fall on your ass.”

“What? You didn’t think I could do it?” Now he’d not only hurt her, he’d insulted her.

“Hell, no. You’d been away from the business for years. I gave you six months.” He narrowed his gaze. “But I was wrong. About all of it. I’d forgotten how good you were and how hard you were willing to work. I saw you there night after night, and I realized you had the guts and the skill to do it. You earned my respect.”

“Big fat hairy deal.” She ground her teeth together.

“You think I care about your respect?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re lying.”

She jerked her arm free. Damn him, she did care. Despite everything, Nic’s opinion mattered.

“So what?” She glared at him. “You respected me, but you still lied to me and made love with me knowing all the time you were trying to destroy everything that made my family special.”

She waited for Nic to yell something back at her, but instead he looked away.

“I told myself I wanted to be the biggest and the best, but it wasn’t about that at all,” he said quietly. “I wanted to be a part of what you had with them. If I couldn’t get it any other way, I would buy it. Maybe a little of it was to punish you for what you’d done.”

He turned back to her. “I offered you all I had, and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

Brenna’s anger crumbled. “It was never about you. It was about me. I was too afraid to follow my heart.”

“I get that now, but back then…” He shrugged. “I was a kid.”

“We both were.”

He reached up and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. The warm contact made her shiver.

“I’m not a kid anymore and there’s no excuse for what I’ve done,” he said. “I was wrong. If I wanted to buy the winery, I should have been up front about it. As for loaning you the money-you’re right. I took advantage of your dreams, and that’s the lowest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not proud of the man I’ve been.”

He dropped his hand. “I don’t blame you for hating me. I tell myself at least that’s better than you not caring at all.”

“Why did you give me the land?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” His dark eyes flashed with pain. “Because I love you and I don’t know how else to tell you I’m sorry.” He pulled a leaf off a nearby plant and pressed it into her palm. “Because we’ve always had this in common. Maybe, with time, it can mend what’s been broken.”

Brenna realized that Nic was just as stupid as every other man on the planet. In the middle of the most life-changing conversation they were ever likely to have, he’d given her a leaf?

“You want to pass that middle part by me again?” she said.

He frowned as he tried to remember. “I love you.”

“And?”

His expression turned cautious. “And I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? I put myself on the line for you, Nic. I threw my heart at your feet, and you trampled over it. An ‘I’m sorry’ and a leaf aren’t going to cut it.”

He swallowed hard. “Brenna, when you told me you loved me, it was the best and worst moment of my life. I wanted to be with you more than I wanted my next breath, but I knew what I’d done was going to destroy us. You talk about going back in time and changing your answer to my proposal. If I could go back, I wouldn’t listen when you said no. Even then I knew it was your fear talking. But I was young and proud and you’d hurt me. Given the chance to do it over, I would tell you that your fears weren’t bigger than both of us. I would stand in the back of the church where you were marrying Jeff and tell the world you loved me and that I loved you.”

He took her hands in his. “If I could change time, even go back just a few months, I would still offer you that loan. But this time I would do it because I wanted you to have your heart’s desire. I would spend every moment I could with you, convincing you that the magic was still there. I love you. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you sneaking tastes from that damn barrel.”

She’d been hoping for a heartfelt confession. She hadn’t expected him to sweep her off her feet and set her soul free.

“Your whole family hates me,” he said. “You hate me. But I’m hoping you still love me, too. I want to win you back. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that we belong together. I want to marry you, have babies with you, and grow old with you. I want to talk about the old days until our grandchildren know the stories by heart. I want to make wine with you, make love with you, cherish you, and be the one safe haven you can always depend on. Just give me a chance. Please.”

No man had ever groveled to her before. Nic was unlikely to do it much in the future, so Brenna did her best to memorize everything about this moment so she could remember it later, when he was making her crazy. She knew that he would. They were both stubborn and creative and passionate about what they did. Clashes were inevitable. But there was no one else she wanted to disagree with, or hold long into the night. Or love.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

“How many babies?” she asked.

He grinned, then the grin turned into laughter. He swept her up in his arms and spun her around. “As many as you want.”

“If I marry you, I want some say in how you run Wild Sea. It’s way too mechanized. You need to start hand-picking more. And your barrel choices are really…”

He silenced her with a kiss. A deep, hungry, passionate kiss that spoke of too much time apart, of pain and missed chances. Tears filled her eyes, and she knew she wept for them both.

“I love you, Nic,” she whispered. “I always have.”

His dark gaze met hers and he smiled. “I love you, too.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders. “You know, I don’t think my parents have sent out the invitations for Katie’s and Francesca’s wedding yet. We still have time to make it a triple ceremony.”

“You think that’s a good idea? Won’t your grandfather glower at me through the whole ceremony?”

“Nope. He told me it’s time for the feud to be over.” She smiled.

“If it’s what you want, then I say go for it.”

She grinned. “My mother is going to absolutely have a fit.”

“Because of logistics, or because you’re marrying me?”

“Oh, the trauma of more guests, more food, that sort of thing. But don’t worry about it. With Katie helping her, the whole event will be organized with military-like precision. Oh, speaking of which, we’re going to have to call Joe and tell him he won’t be beating you up anytime soon.”

“There’s a relief.”

“You weren’t really worried, were you?”

“Not about anything but losing you.”

“Sorry. You’re stuck with me. And speaking of that, brace yourself. When we get back to the house, you’re going to be hugged and cheek-pinched until you’re whimpering. Wait until the Grands see Max. That dog is going to be so fat. And my dad will want to talk to you about marketing plans, and I think Grandpa Lorenzo is secretly envious of your new bottling facility, but don’t expect him to admit it. And I have no idea what my sisters are going to say about all this. I mean, they did fantasize about you for years. That could be embarrassing once you’re their brother-in-law.”

As they walked toward the Marcelli hacienda, Brenna talked about her relatives and all the ways they would make him crazy and welcome him and try to change his life.

“If we get married, you’re going to be a part of the family,” she said. “Think you can stand that for the next fifty or sixty years?”

“I can’t wait.”