Page 22 of Always a Bridesmaid

“Henry!” A sprout of a man, in his late twenties, waved them over.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Henry placed his hand on Jane’s lower back and led her toward a doorway at the far side of the veranda. Heat pooled and spread toward her limbs.

When they reached the entrance to the winery, Henry pulled the man into his arms and they gave each other a firm clap on the back. “Louis. Great to see you, mate. Thank you for taking us in on such short notice.”

“Anything for you, my friend.” He turned to Jane and smiled. “And who have you brought to us?”

“This is Elle. She’s Sarah’s friend and will be filling in.”

Louis looked at Henry’s possessive hand—which had made a surprising return—then to Henry and some silent conversation passed between them. Henry’s hand immediately dropped and then he gave Louis a hard shove. “Where’s Emma?”

“Inside. Follow me.”

Louis led them through a rounded hallway and into a cavern made entirely of stone—not hand laid like the rest of the castle, but as if the room had been carved out of solid rock. There was a large table that spanned the middle of the room with enough chairs to seat a large family at the holidays. It was decorated with flowers and topiaries, displaying bottles of wine in an elaborate yet classy way.

The back wall was stacked with oak barrels. Parts of the wall had been carved out into long rectangles and backlit to display wine bottles. And in the corner of the room were four leather barrel chairs intimately situated around a round table set with wine glasses lined up for the tasting. Bottles were already opened and breathing and to the side was a charcuterie board overflowing with imported meats, cheeses, and olives.

“I can’t wait for you to taste our special reserve rosé. There’s only two cases left, reserved for family only, but for you I’d be willing to part with it,” Louis said.

Henry lifted a brow. “For a price?”

“For friendship.”

A look of surprise and gentle wonder overtook Henry’s face and, in that moment, his facade and public persona crumbled,gifting her a man who was a sight to behold. Soft, warm, a bit shy, and reserved. Far from the cocky, arrogant man she’d come to know and loathe.

The door burst open and a pint-sized whirlwind of a toddler came screeching into the room. Curly blond hair, ruddy cheeks, and chubby legs that ate up the space in seconds. Big blue eyes wide with excitement.

“Hen, Hen, Hen,” the child called out, her arms stretched toward Henry. He lifted the girl up and threw her in the air before catching her. Giggles of delight echoed off the stones, while tingles reverberated off Jane’s ovaries.

In the doorway stood a mom who looked as if she’d been chasing the rambunctious toddler for a week straight.

“Colette, you’re going to get mud all over Henry’s clothes,” the woman said.

“My little Coco, have you been making mud pies again without me?” Henry asked, and Coco put two grubby little hands on Henry’s cheeks and gave him a kiss. Henry didn’t seem to mind, giving her a raspberry on her cheek that sent her into a fit of laughter.

“Did you bring me a car?” Coco asked.

Popping her onto his right hip, Henry dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a toy race car, a Formula 1 car of course. The little girl took the car and immediately squirmed in his arms to be let down. The second her feet hit the ground she was on the floor, pushing the car around and making racing sounds.

Coco was as unexpected as this side of Henry.

“Coco, this is my friend Elle.”

Coco looked up at Elle and with a critical eye decided that she didn’t like what she saw, because she darted behind Henry’s legs.

“You call him Hen. I call him Hank,” Jane said.

“Hank?” Louis asked.

“It’s my little nickname,” Henry said with a roll of the eye.

“So you’re at nicknames, huh, Hank?”

“It’s not like that. She just likes to give me shit.”

“Shit,” Coco repeated, and Emma glared at Henry.

“Sorry.” He grimaced.

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