Page 49 of All I've Waited For

Mateo stopped his conversation with a few workers and jogged over. “That’s not your job, Boss. Let one of my guys handle it.”

“It’s fine.” The edge of the wood bit into his flesh. “I need a distraction.”

“Wedding jitters, eh?” His cellar master’s mouth curved into a knowing grin. “I remember feeling that way when I got married. All will be well come Saturday night.”

If the wedding even still happened. He hadn’t yet informed Claire about the kiss with Ashley a week ago. Had told himself it was a discussion they should have in person. But in reality, he just hadn’t had the guts.

He was a coward, afraid that one error in judgment, one moment of pleasure, of finally giving in, would cost his family their futures.

And he was a cad too.

Nodding, he muttered a goodbye to Mateo and maneuvered past him out into the cheery sunlit day. He trudged through the rows of vines. The spring flowering had been steady-going, and within a week or two, young clusters should start appearing. Derek always loved seeing the evidence of an entire half-year of work come to fruition before his eyes. It was predictable, rewarding for those who stayed the course.

If only the rest of life could be that way.

He reached the tasting room and shop, a building about a hundred yards from their house. A few cars sat in the parking lot, fairly normal for a Monday afternoon.

Derek let himself in the back door to the storage room and set the case of wine down. Then he started to unpack the Zinf, placing it in racks where Heather could easily grab what she needed.

Strands of jazzy music drifted back from the front of the house, and he heard muted voices, the occasional laugh. The noises grated against his need for peace.

“Don’t we pay someone else to do that?”

Derek glanced up to find his youngest sister in the curved doorway. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? This is our family’s vineyard. I’m part of the family. So I can help anywhere I choose.”

“Bite my head off, why don’t you.” Heather’s heels clicked on the tile as she advanced. “You’re getting married in five days. Shouldn’t you be a bit less cranky?”

“Everyone’s entitled to a bad day.”

“Try a bad week. You’ve been an absolute bear.” Heather pulled one of the bottles from the nearly empty crate at Derek’s feet, examining the label. “Why is that? What happened?”

Whathadhappened? How had he so utterly lost control? One minute, they’d been laughing like the friends he was determined to be. The next he was holding Ashley close, rationalizing that he was simply learning to dance. Of course, if he’d really wanted to learn, he could have just asked Claire to teach him. Or Heather. Or any number of people except the woman he loved.

Loved.

Man, he was in trouble.

Heather stood there, eyebrows lifted, waiting for his answer.

He removed the last bottle from the case and slid it into the rack, then stacked the crate on top of several others in the corner. “Nothing happened. Everything is how it should be.” Or, it would be as soon as he cleared the air with his fiancée. He turned to leave.

“Bro.”

He glanced back at Heather, who had a contemplative look on her face. “Yeah?”

“Don’t be like me. Don’t settle for less than you deserve.”

Derek knew without asking that she spoke about Mia’s father. To this day, Heather had refused to tell anyone his identity, only that it had been a short-lived mistake that had resulted in a blessing.

But broken-hearted as his sister had been when the whole thing went down, Heather’s situation was nothing like his. “I’ve gotta go.” Claire would be here any minute—she’d insisted on renting a vehicle at the airport—and he smelled like sweat and dirt. Might as well be clean when he came clean.

As he showered in his cabin, he soaked in the warmth of the water, so different from the fateful dip in the ocean he’d taken a week ago. Cutting off the stream flowing from the showerhead, he pushed away the piercing guilt he’d felt in leaving Ashley alone in that office. He should have been a man about it. Talked it through. Apologized even more.

But he hadn’t trusted himself. Enclosed with her in that small room that smelled of her pineapple and coconut perfume, all alone, after that kiss—who knew what he would have done if he’d stayed?

“Derek?” A delicate knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Are you decent?”

Claire.

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