Page 85 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

Brennen flinches, his jaw tightening. “How did you know about what’s going on here?”

“I have my ways, Bren. The fact is, Sapphire Development is Candace Prescott, and destroying my home is just a part of her master plan.”

“You mean your ex is responsible for this?You’re responsible for this?”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”

“I sure as hell would. Do you think I’m an idiot and don’t know how dangerous she is to the vineyard?”

“You don’t,” I say, my voice cold. “Not like I do. She’s vindictive, Brennen. Calculating. She doesn’t just want the vineyard. She wants to bury our entire family—every single one of us—and if you let your pride get in the way, she’ll succeed.”

He glares at me, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. But he doesn’t argue.

“I’m not here to take over,” I continue. “I’m here to help. Whether you want me to or not. The vineyard belongs to you, me, and Emma. If push comes to shove, Emma and I can force you.”

“Arrogant bastard.”

“Undoubtedly, but we’re a lot stronger if it’s all three of us. Mom always said as long as we had each other…”

“You think she would have approved of what you did? What you didn’t do?”

“Not a chance. She’d have made the Navy give me up, write an apology letter to her, and dragged my sorry ass back here, but she wouldn’t have been thrilled with you, either. In fact, the only one she wouldn’t be pissed at is Emma.”

Brennen’s fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. The vein in his temple is pulsing, his jaw working overtime as he struggles to keep his cool. But I know my brother, and I know how to push him.

“You really think you can handle this on your own?” I say, my voice low and biting. “You’re drowning, Brennen. The vineyard’sfalling apart, Candace is circling like a shark, and you’re just standing there, bleeding and waiting for her to take the first bite.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snaps, stepping closer.

“Sure you don’t,” I reply, stepping into his space just enough to rile him further. “You didn’t need help when Dad ran the business into the ground. Didn’t need help when Candace set her sights on this place, and you didn’t see it coming. Face it, Brennen, you’re in over your head.”

“Shut up, Ryan,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“Or what?” I push, leaning in. “You’ll throw a punch? Go ahead. It might be the first decisive move you’ve made in years.”

That does it. Brennen’s arm shoots out, his fist aiming for my face, but I duck easily. “Too slow,” I say with a smirk, goading him further.

“You arrogant son of a...”

Brennen keeps swinging, and I keep ducking. He’s not a bad fighter and looks to be in decent shape, but I was trained by the best and most elite fighting unit in the world. Besides, I have several inches and probably forty pounds of pure muscle on him.

He swings again, and this time, I don’t dodge. I take the hit square to the jaw, staggering back just enough to keep it believable. My lip stings, and I taste blood, but I grin anyway.

“Feel better now?” I say, straightening.

Brennen looks shocked for a moment, then pissed, and then something close to resigned.

“You needed that,” I tell him. “And now, you’re going to listen to me. The only reason this place is in trouble is because of Dad’s stupid decisions and because Candace Prescott knows this is the one way she can hurt me. She doesn’t care about the vineyard, Brennen. She cares about revenge. You’re collateral damage in a fight you had no hand in creating and no idea you were playing.”

“You think I don’t understand what Candace is capable of?” Brennen says, his voice low and venomous. “I’ve been dealing with the fallout while you were off playing soldier or businessman or whatever the hell you’ve been doing.”

“And that’s my mess to clean up,” I reply. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to be pissed at me. Hell, I’d be pissed, too. I should’ve been here. I wasn’t. That’s on me. But I’m here now, and I’m not letting her take this place without a fight.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. Finally, he exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. We stand there for a long moment, the silence heavy and charged. Finally, Brennen nods, just barely. It’s not agreement, but it’s not a refusal, either—I’ll take it.

“Your room is still your room,” he says gruffly. He pauses at the base of the staircase. “But Ryan? The winery is mine, and you’re not welcome there. Goodnight.”

“Night,” I reply, watching him disappear up the steps.

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