Derek had finally come to see her.
She rushed toward him, trying to still her shaking hands. Oh man, he looked good, better than she remembered. His brown hair was swept back in an Elvis cut, and his skin had bronzed, probably from so much time in the French vineyards. He’d grown a beard, and though Ashley wasn’t normally one for facial hair, it suited him.
“Hi. It’s so good to see you.” She lowered her voice. “I’m with a client right now, but I’d love to catch up. Can I meet you for coffee in about an hour?”
Derek stared at Ashley as if he’d never seen her before, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ashley? What are you doing here?”
As if he’d slapped her, she took a step back. “What do you m—”
“Derek? Do you two know each other?”
Ashley froze. Her eyes moved from Derek to Claire, blinking rapidly. Understanding dawned as Claire joined them, each click of her heels on tile punctuating the truth.
Derek wasn’t here to see Ashley.
Well, he was. Just not in the way she’d dreamed about.
“You’re …” She cleared her throat. “You’re the groom?”
He averted his eyes, swinging his head toward Claire, who smiled at him. “I am.”
No. No, no, no.
Ashley forced a smile. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Then she turned and bolted toward the back as gracefully as she could.
Kyle would have to take this wedding. She couldn’t do it.
Reaching for the doorknob, she twisted it, but her hand was too slick with sweat to get it the first time. Finally, she managed to open the door.
Kyle didn’t glance up from the bridal magazine he was reading. “Did our experiment fail already?” He licked his finger and turned the page.
Ashley grimaced. What was she doing in here? She couldn’t give up her dream opportunity. Not over a guy who hadn’t bothered to call one of his supposed best friends more than once after he’d gone overseas fourteen months ago.
Over someone who had gotten engaged and hadn’t bothered to let her know.
“Not at all.” Her gaze tumbled over Kyle’s desk until she caught sight of a random checklist. Ashley swooped in and grabbed it. “Just needed this.”
Without waiting to gauge Kyle’s reaction, she left the office as quickly as she’d come in.
Before she entered the showroom again, she stopped and took a deep breath. Yeah, this was going to be awkward, but she could do it. She’d likely be working mostly with Claire anyway, and she’d just try to forget that Derek was the groom.
Try to forget how, despite his distance and the way he’d acted like their friendship—like she—meant nothing to him, Ashley Baker was still in love with him.
Oh boy.
She steeled her spine and walked into the room. “All right, ya’ll, let’s get this wedding planned!”
Things were much worse than he’d thought.
Derek Campbell leaned forward in the wooden Adirondack chair on his family home’s multilevel deck. “What time does Jorge get in on Monday? I’ve got some ideas I’d like to discuss about the day-to-day operations.”
“Let’s talk about that later. You just got home, and I want to get to know your lovely fiancée better.” His father’s hand shook slightly as he lifted a glass of Campbell Wines’ 2017 Syrah to his lips and sipped. The fifty-eight-year-old had thinned considerably since Derek had left for France, and the yellow ringing his eyes was undeniable proof that his stage 4 kidney disease had fought hard in Derek’s absence.
Beside Dad, Derek’s stepmother, Nancy, watched him with pinched lips. She was worried about something and trying not to show it. From what Derek had seen in the last twenty-four hours, she had every right to be concerned on multiple fronts.
But Derek was here now, and he was going to fix this. For all of them.
Dad turned toward Claire, who sat in a chair next to Derek, sipping her glass of 2019 rosé as she looked out across the expansive vineyard before them. From here, he could hardly make out the light from the row of rental cabins to the east, one of which he was calling home for the time being. The others had been out of commission for a few years. “Now that you’ve had a chance to see our little town and home, what do you think? How does it compare with yours?”
The evening sun was on the cusp of setting behind them, spilling gold and orange across the rows and rows of grapes. Even though they were only five miles outside of Walker Beach, the vineyard felt like another world, tucked away against the foothills and trees that lined one side of the town.
Most would say nothing compared to the lush green of the Loire Valley in France, but this … this was home. And Derek would do anything necessary to protect it. For all of them, but mostly for Dad. This place meant everything to him.
Claire twiddled her thumb against the rim of her glass. “It is much the same, except everyone here speaks English, of course.”
Nancy crossed her legs and tilted her head. “Now, Claire, forgive me for saying so, but you don’t strike me as a small-town girl—not unless all French women are as poised and well styled as you.” Nancy herself stuck to mostly jeans and flannel, and she lacked the same charm he admired in Claire, but she was nice enough. She’d made his dad happy for the last five years, anyway, and they seemed to love each other.
For now. Hopefully she wouldn’t leave when things got even rougher, though Derek wouldn’t be all that surprised if she did.
From what Derek had seen, love was a fickle mistress.
Claire smoothed the front of her skirt and smiled. “Non, we are as varied as you Americans. But I did grow up in the city.”
“Oh?” Dad wheezed, and held up a hand toward Nancy before she could ask if he was okay. The episode passed, and they all breathed better. He continued.
