Page 142 of Bitter Rival

“So what made you change your mind about selling the vineyard?” he asks.

I changed my mind because Daisy said it was the only place that ever felt like home. And for whatever reason, it was important to her that I keep it. Ergo, by keeping the vineyard, I’ll stand a better chance of winning her back when I show up in New York for her photography exhibit.

I’ll apologize for my actions, ask her to come back to Sutton Ridge with me, and we can pick up where we left off. But Harold doesn’t need to know any of that.

“Doesn’t matter why I’m doing it. Just that I am. Give me whatever I need to sign, and I’ll make sure Daisy signs off too,” I say, trying to hurry things along.

“That won’t be necessary,” Harold says. “The vineyard is all yours. You’re the sole owner.”

I stare at him. “What are you saying?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t tell me this whole thing was just another one of my father’s tricks.”

Harold chuckles. “No. Daisy signed over her half to you.”

I lean back in my chair, stunned. Why would she do that?

But why am I even questioning it? Of course, Daisy would do something like that. “When? When did she sign it over to me?”

“Months ago.”

“Months ago,” I repeat. “I need you to be more specific. When exactly did she do this?”

“July. On the day of my first visit, she told me what she wanted to do and later that day, she came to my office and signed the paperwork.”

While I was sawing down that tree, I thought I heard her take off in the truck. Which only goes to prove that she meant everything she said that day. She had nothing to gain from staying because she was never planning to keep her share.

Everything she did was for me. And when she tried to tell me that, I didn’t believe her.

I’m not only a grade A asshole, I’m a fucking idiot.

“She was adamant that it’s what she wanted and she asked me not to say anything.” Harold slides a manilla envelope across the table. “There you go. That’s all the paperwork. Better check that it’s all there. I’m getting forgetful in my old age.”

To humor him, I open the envelope and slide out the document. An envelope falls to the ground, and I snatch it up. My name is written on the front in my father’s handwriting. I stare at it for a few seconds before giving the document a cursory glance and shoving everything back into the envelope.

When I lift my head, Harold is already gone. I watch him walking down the street with a little bounce in his step and laugh under my breath as I get into my car and drive home. Home.

I’ll stay to finish the harvest and then I’ll fly to New York and do everything in my power to win back Daisy.

Hell, I’ll drop to my knees and beg if I have to.

But I’m not coming back without her.

“I’m glad you decided to keep this place,” Hunter says, working beside me as we harvest the cabernet grapes. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“You’re just saying that because I gave you a fancy title and a good salary.”

He laughs good-naturedly. Nothing ever gets to this guy. He’s so easygoing that it would be annoying if he wasn’t such a good worker.

“I would have taken this job for half the salary you offered.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

He laughs again. I guess he thinks I’m joking.

I carry the full bucket over to the large crates and empty it then resume clipping and tossing the grape clusters.

The last time we harvested grapes, Daisy was right by my side.

In retrospect, that was the best month of my life. I was happy. We were happy.

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