Page 45 of Married to the Frenemy

Jude’s just bitter that Haley and I didn’t sleep together within the first week, like he predicted. He knows our history. He knows better than anyone exactly why that will never happen.

I’ve already ruined her life once. I won’t do it again.

“Hey, Beck,” Gretchen calls out from behind the bar when I walk into the cavernous tasting room.

The floors are repurposed wood, crafted from old wine barrels, while the walls are exposed stone, except for the far wall, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking acres upon acres of budding vines.

I’m immediately reminded of marrying Haley in that exact spot. Of her appearing at the end of the aisle and my heart stopping as I took in how beautiful she was. In that split-second, a part of me wished her breathtaking smile wasn’t just for show — an act to convince my friends and family that we’re madly in love. Instead, I wished it was because she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with me.

“Hey, Gretch.” I move toward the long, polished bar where several tasting stations are set up.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, so it’s not too busy, but there are still a few people here.

“How’s the response to the Syrah blend been?”

Last week, we were able to bottle a new varietal I’ve been working on over the past several years. I’ve always loved a good Syrah, and the climate a few years ago was perfect for cultivating those grapes.

“It’s a hit. I might be taking bigger tastes than necessary when opening a fresh bottle.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Is Grady upstairs?”

“Sure is.”

“Great. Thanks.”

I head down the long hallway and make my way up to the second floor landing, slowing my steps when I hear raised voices through the closed door of Grady’s office.

“You can’t do this,” a stern voice I don’t recognize seethes. “We had a deal.”

“We were working on a deal,” Grady corrects, his tone calm despite the other man’s obvious frustration. “Neither one of us has yet to sign anything. You’ve been in this business long enough to know nothing’s definite until the ink is dry.”

“Do you want more money? I’ll raise my offer to fifteen million.”

I have to suppress my cough. I doubt he’ll be able to turn down that much money. He deserves it after the years he’s spent turning this land into a profitable vineyard.

And after everything he’s done for me.

“It’s not about the money,” Grady responds. “You could offer me twice that much. Hell, ten times, and it still won’t be enough to change my mind.”

“You saw the plans. We’ll maintain the spirit of the vineyard, will still cultivate the grapes and make wine. We’ll just be building a hotel on the property, as well, which will allow more people to come and appreciate everything you’ve built here.”

“While I like the concept, my answer is still no. And final.”

It’s silent for several tense seconds. I may not be able to see them, but I can picture Grady’s calm demeanor, a contrast to the anger radiating from the other gentleman.

“This isn’t over,” the man says, his voice low and threatening. “You can be damn sure you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

“I look forward to it,” Grady replies flippantly.

The door flies open and a man dressed in a designer suit complete with monogrammed cufflinks storms out. It’s probably a good thing Grady declined his offer. A real winemaker wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit like that. Hell, I didn’t even own a suit until a few days before I married Haley.

I meet the man’s irate gaze, a sneer plastered on his face. Then he storms past me and down the stairs. My eyes follow him until he disappears from view. Then I approach Grady’s office and peek my head inside.

“Ah, Beckham.” He slowly stands and skirts around his desk to greet me, keeping his hand on the surface for support. “You’re here early.”

“I figured I’d get home so I can spend some time with Haley and Maggie before bedtime.”

“Good for you.” He gives me a brief hug and pats my back. “Married life looks good on you. I didn’t think there’d ever come a time you’d go home while the sun was still shining.”

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