Page 54 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

Eight years later, Emma went off to college, and I was the only one left to hold it all together. My father thought I did it for him.Hell, no.I did it for my mother and all the other Murphys.

Patrick Murphy—calling him my father leaves a bitter taste in my mouth—was pure evil. The way he treated our mother. The lack of love and affection for his children. His constant comparison of me to Ryan, with me never measuring up in his eyes. Telling me I wasn’t smart enough to run the business that he was destroying.

Guess what, Patrick? I’m running it now, and you can rot in hell—which is exactly where you belong.

By the time he became sick with bladder cancer not long after the scandal that shook our business to its core, no one had any sympathy for the man. He deserved every bit of the pain and suffering he experienced from the nasty disease that robbed him of his dignity after inflicting so much pain on others. When he finally passed five years ago, despite my best efforts, virtuallynothing was left of the business other than a facility in disrepair and a trail of secrets and lies.

Once he was gone, so much was exposed to the light of day. I finally learned the primary reason behind the sabotage of our prize-winning wines that fateful day nine years ago. It destroyed everything I held dear in an instant and changed my life forever. He was deep in debt due to gambling losses, and instead of leaving his children a well-preserved dynasty, he bequeathed a failing business, a ruined industry reputation, and a mountain of debt.

No one mourned his passing. By the time he died, he’d burned every bridge he ever crossed, leaving no friends, business associates, or family who cared. There was no funeral service; his body was thrown in an incinerator and burned like the garbage he was. No way in hell was I going to spread his tainted ashes on our sacred land. I’ll never forget the look on the funeral director’s face when I told her to dispose of him any way she saw fit.

And loyalty?Patrick Murphy didn’t know the meaning of the word. When Carlos Vargas sabotaged the wine competition, my father led everyone to believe Carlos had acted on his own. Carlos was our father’s best friend, as well as the winery’s long-time maintenance man and jack-of-all-trades, responsible for keeping all of the machinery and facility operations running smoothly. He wasn’t just a trusted employee; he was like family. Deep down, I never believed that Carlos would betray us. It just didn’t make sense.

Right after that incident, Joselyn, Carlos’s daughter and my fiancée, disappeared, slipping away without so much as a goodbye. One day we were inseparable; the next she was gone, and I was left with an ache I couldn’t name.

It would’ve been so easy to walk away from everything myself. My siblings did. No one would’ve blamed me. In fact,most people probably expected it. But years earlier, at my mother’s funeral, I had made a promise to her.The Celtic Knot would not die.I could have jumped on any one of numerous offers to buy us out when my father died. Hell, the land under my feet is worth millions. But you can’t put a price on loyalty, honor, and family; and this land represents all of that to me. It will never be for sale as long as I am living and breathing.

Kerry shifts beneath me, sensing the tension in my body caused by my reflections of the past. His gentle nature calms and relaxes me. He’s the only constant in my life, remaining by my side through every conceivable circumstance, good or bad. I reach down and stroke his neck, murmuring softly to him until he stills.

The truth is, I haven’t stayed here because I wanted to. Not at first. I stayed because someonehadto. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and I couldn’t bear the thought of my mother’s memory and the Murphy legacy turning to ash—or worse, a five-star resort where people trampled all over this land, blissfully unaware of its history. So, as soon as I was old enough to challenge my father and force the reins from his hands, I dug in, working to rebuild the damage he’d caused, learning the business, getting my hands dirty, regaining what had been lost. Year after year, little by little, the business has been coming back to life.

Now, looking over the property, I feel the same fierce pride and determination that my ancestors must have felt. This place is not just a plot of land and some buildings; it’s a legacy. The Murphy family legacy.

I straighten in the saddle, my eyes scanning the horizon. The sun is dipping lower now, painting the sky with streaks of gold and crimson. It’s time to head back, to prepare for another season, another harvest, another reason to carry on. But for just one more moment, I let myself linger, let myself feel theweight of the promise I made. This place isn’t just home. It’s my purpose, my anchor. And as long as I draw breath, I’ll fight to keep it alive.

Chapter 1

Joselyn

I’m home.Now that I’m here, I’m scared to death. Scared I won’t find Papa. Scared Iwillfind Papa. I need a little distance to get myself together, so I booked a rental cottage along the intercoastal overlooking Hibiscus Harbor, one town over from Pelican Point.

Pelican Point.The only place I ever lived prior to Vegas. The only home I remember, the caretaker’s cottage I lived in with my father on the property of the Celtic Knot, a family-owned winery. Specifically, the Murphy family, and Brennen. Returning to Florida to face the demons of my past and reconciling with my father also means that I’ll likely run into the man I’ve never been able to forget.

Attending that funeral in Vegas made me realize that coming back is the only way to quiet the turmoil in my soul and find peace.

In my former life, when I was troubled or needed answers, I went to the beach. I used to find solace in the lapping of the waves and the feel of sand under my feet. I didn’t have that in the desert, and I’ve missed it. My heart is telling me to go there now. Breathe in the ocean air and regroup. Figure out what to donow that I’m here. A flicker of hope ignites. Maybe I deserve that second chance. With PapaandBrennen.

But where do I start? How do I start?

My stomach is churning as I pull up to the familiar wooden structure of the beachfront bar that’s been around since before I was born. Remnants of my past come flooding back like little movies in my mind—grabbing a bite to eat after hanging out at the beach with my friends, happy times on dates with Brennen.

I exit the car and pull my wide-brimmed straw hat low over my head so it almost touches the top of my large sunglasses. I tell myself it’s to protect me from the sun, but deep down inside, I know it’s my shield in case I run into anyone that may remember me from the past.

Before heading through the bar’s interior and out to the beach, I go inside to use the ladies’ room. As I wash my hands, I barely recognize the woman in the mirror, and it’s not due to the poor lighting in the restroom. I’m not the same person I was back then, either on the inside or outside. The most obvious change in my appearance is my hair and clothing. Growing up, I let my long light-colored hair enjoy its naturally curly state in the Florida humidity. In Vegas, I reinvented myself into a more professional and mature appearance. I started coloring my hair darker and taming my curls with a straightening iron. I also traded in my beach and athletic attire for cotton shirts and relaxed khaki slacks, as well as tailored linen suits for work.

Taking the back exit from the bar to go out on the deck and down to the beach, I pause to put my sunglasses back on, then push on the heavy exit door. As I step onto the deck, I collide with a woman standing just outside the doorway, speaking into her cell phone animatedly, hands flailing around in the air.

“I’m so sorry. Excuse…”Oh my God. I know her.

I stare into a pair of bright blue eyes. Familiar blue eyes.

I can’t miss the flicker of recognition, despite my disguise. She speaks into her phone. “I’ll call you back.” She disconnects the call, then focuses her attention on me.“What the fuck?”

The woman glaring at me is Brennen’s sister and my former best friend, Emma Murphy.

I’m at a loss for words, but she doesn’t skip a beat. And she still cusses like a sailor.

“You’re the last person I expected to run into today.” Her eyes narrow, and I don’t think it’s due to the glare of the sun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

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