Valentina woke up from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she blinked up at me. “Are we getting close?” she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.
“Yup.” My palms suddenly slick, I swiped one hand on my shorts.
I’d been so focused on how right things could go when I saw Luke again, I hadn’t really considered the alternative. It was only sinking in now that if he rejected me, I could be making the return drive tomorrow . . . completely heartsick. Vacation plan or no, there was no way I could stay in Shady Grove if Luke didn’t want me there. Every single inch of that town was a searing reminder of our time together. Staying there would be like pouring salt in a wound over and over again.
I sucked in a steadying breath and shot her a tight smile. “Almost there.”
“What are you going to do when you see him?” she asked, her drowsiness fading as she got that rah-rah life-coach look in her eyes.
“I’m . . .” I let out a deep sigh, trying to push out all my fears and negative feelings along with it. “I’m going to tell him that I’m not asking him for any promises; I’m just asking for a chance. That I’m going to stay and give this a try, and that no matter what he thinks based on his ex’s behavior, I know this can work. I’m going to tell him that I haven’t been the same without him, and that . . .”
“That?” she prompted me when I hesitated.
“I’m going to tell him that I love him.” I groaned and squeezed the wheel more tightly. “It’s crazy that we only spent a week together, but I fell hard and fast. I can’t go on without knowing I gave this a fair shake.”
“That’s my girl.” Valentina gave me an approving nod.
I practiced my little speech all the way down the interstate until I finally took the exit that led into Shady Grove. From there, the trip to the Wilder property was quick and easy. My heart thundered as I took the turn for the distillery, and when I reached the end of the road, my heart stopped beating altogether.
Not because I saw Luke, although that would have done it.
Nope, my normal bodily functions had ceased because I was certain the Mercedes parked in the little visitor lot next to the barn belonged to none other than one Prescott Billingsley the Sixth.
Dear God, what the hell is happening?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Luke
“You can’t be serious,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
The other man nodded, then tipped his glass to me. “Pardon my language, but it’s been nothing short of a fucking disaster. Her parents are calling me every day asking if I’ve heard from her, and she’s not picking up her damned phone. It’s been a total shit show.”
“To be left at the altar like that, though.” I let out a low whistle of sympathy.
I thought it had been bad to have an engagement ring returned to me. But to have all my friends and family see me get dumped on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life? I could hardly imagine.
Worse yet, I couldn’t figure out why a woman would leave him. He was a decent-looking guy with sandy hair and nice, kind eyes. If he was looking to invest in someone else’s business, he was clearly well off and good with his money. In the few moments we’d spent together, he’d even cracked a joke or two.
I guess that just goes to show you. You never know what can happen in this life.
After the last week, I should have known that better than anyone. I’d barely slept a wink since Charlotte left me, and I’d known she was leaving. All I could think of was getting close to her again. Imagine this poor guy with his fiancée jilting him like that when he’d planned on forever with her? She must have been a real piece of work.
“Sorry, buddy. That sounds really tough.” I touched my glass to his again and we both took another sip. “I can totally understand why you’d be throwing yourself back into business then. Jesus, man,” I said, shaking my head in quiet commiseration.
“Actually, that’s only part of the reason for my visit.” He leaned in with a sigh. “I’m looking for someone.”
The floorboards creaked behind us and I turned in my chair, expecting to see Duke stroll in. What I saw made me nearly cough up the burning liquid sliding down my throat.
“Charlotte,” I sputtered.
Then I realized I hadn’t been the only one. The man next to me had said her name at exactly the same time. I glanced at him and turned back to Charlotte to find her gaping at him.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my surprise and joy at seeing her tempered by total and complete confusion.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, and Charlotte’s eyebrows inched higher.
Behind her, a slim woman with thick, dark hair edged into the room and held up a hand, waving to me shyly. “Hey,” she said in a voice richer than I’d expected. “I’m Valentina. And you must be Luke.”
“Uh, hi,” I said. “Maybe you could explain—”
Charlotte stalked toward the man beside me and finally seemed to find her voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Look, you might have left me but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. You posted on Instagram, so I did some—”
“Snooping,” she spat out, cutting in.
“Research,” he said, correcting her, “and I came here to make sure you’re okay. Which, obviously, you are.”
This time, his eyes found mine and something clicked.
“Speak of the devil.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and stood from my bar stool. “The girl you were talking about is Charlotte?” I asked, and he gave me a clipped nod. “I thought you were an investor—”
Charlotte let out a humorless laugh. “So, you lied to him to get to me? That’s low, Prescott. Who put you up to this? My parents?”
“You said your name was Scott,” I muttered, my gut clenching in shock.
Prescott? Prescott Billingsley was the guy sitting next to me—the guy who had apparently been nothing to write home about? Except that wasn’t true either, because she’d been fucking engaged to the guy. The whole time she’d been here, she’d been engaged. And she’d left him high and dry, just like Sarah had done to me. Worse than that, Charlotte had lied to me.
“I use the name in business so there’s no confusion. My father is named Prescott as well. And nobody put me up to anything.” He shook his head, then glanced at me. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t had a chance to explain, and I’ve never turned down a free glass of whiskey, which—considering you know Charlotte—I’m sure you can understand.”
My head spun again as twin urges warred inside me—one to knock this guy’s fucking head off for talking about my woman like that, and the other to tear my hair out at the lunacy of this situation.
“What the fuck is going on, Charlotte?” I shouted.
The whole time she’d been here, she’d been hiding. Hiding from Prescott and from her parents, and lying to me and my family about why she was here. She obviously hadn’t felt that she could trust me, that she didn’t know me well enough to confide in me. And here I’d bought a ticket to go to her and try to make this work.