A Splash of Rose (Vine Valley #6)

Chapter 1

Eleven years ago today, Wyatt Dawson built up the courage to talk to me at a college party, and we haven’t stopped talking since.

Eleven years. My god. In so many ways, it felt like a lifetime ago, yet somehow, it also felt like it was just yesterday when the awkwardly adorable, freshly twenty-one-year-old boy tripped over his own feet in his determination to speak with me, landing headfirst in my crotch.

A smile tugged at my mouth as the memory replayed in my head.

He’d looked up at me, cheeks blazing red, dark brown hair falling over his forehead, golden eyes staring at me. “I swear I’m not usually this smooth.”

Any other guy, I would have laughed and pushed off me, but Wyatt… I brushed his hair back, noticing the natural thick waves, and smiled. “That’s a shame,” I’d said. “It’s the best approach I’ve ever had.”

I swear I fell in love with him right then, and if it wasn’t at that moment, it was in the conversations we had that went until the sun came up. We haven’t been apart since. Now we were celebrating eleven years together.

I glanced down at the red dress I had worn to a friend’s wedding—that Wyatt had stripped me out of as soon as our hotel room door shut—and ran a hand over the satin. Tonight felt… different.

An anxious flutter moved through my stomach, and a whisper of hope I kept shoving down resurfaced.

Eleven years.

Long enough for everyone to assume we’d be the next Grasso wedding. Long enough for me to start wanting things I had convinced myself I didn’t need.

A ring. A promise. A day in a white dress when we stood in front of our family and friends, and he told the world I was it for him. Always and forever.

Marriage was a “social construct that, almost half the time, ended in divorce”—a statistic I couldn’t argue. Wyatt had always said we didn’t need marriage.

But suddenly, after watching all my closest friends marry, I did.

And tonight, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was finally ready to give it to me.

We had many anniversary celebrations over our eleven years, but they usually revolved around our favorite takeout, a pint of ice cream, and a movie.

Tonight, he specifically requested I wear a fancy dress and meet him in the barn at my family’s vineyard.

It was a place that had hosted many engagements, bridal showers, and weddings over the years.

My heart thudded against my chest as I stepped toward the big double doors. Candlelight spilled out of the cracks in the wood. I took an unsteady breath, then shook the nerves away. This was Wyatt. My Wyatt. I had no reason to be nervous.

I pushed open the doors, the familiar scent of oak surrounding me. Twinkling lights hung from the rafters, casting a soft glow over the long wooden table set for two. A single pink rose, my favorite, lay across my place setting.

In the corner, Wyatt stood, handsome as ever, with his dark, wavy hair falling over his forehead. Gray slacks covered his legs, and a crisp white dress shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing his tan from our friend’s Miami wedding.

He glanced up, greeting me with that crooked grin that had done me in the first time we met.

God, I loved him.

He let out a soft whistle. “Wowzer.”

“Not so bad yourself.” I hurried over and threw my arms around his neck, settling into his familiar and calming warmth.

“Happy anniversary, gorgeous,” he said, his breath skating across my ear, spreading goosebumps down my neck to my spine.

After all this time, he still had that effect on me.

I closed my eyes, letting his heat soak into me, inhaling the cologne I bought him for Christmas. He kissed the top of my head like he always did. His hand rested on the low dip of the satin, fingers caressing just beneath the material.

“Happy anniversary,” I said.

He pulled back, a hint of nerves in his golden eyes, but he quickly put on a smile and gestured to the table.

“I hope you’re hungry. I pulled out all the stops.

Five courses of pure indulgence, wine pairings for each, including a dessert wine Franc has just tapped and no one has tried yet, and a surprise. ”

My heart slammed into my chest, giddy excitement flooding through me. “A surprise?” I said, unable to keep the excitement out of my tone.

“I know you hate surprises, but when the occasion calls for one, you know I’m going to deliver.”

My pulse skittered as I took a seat and he poured us each a small glass of Sauvignon Blanc. He held the glass up, and I followed suit, tilting my head and waiting for his toast.

“To us. To eleven years of you putting up with my terrible jokes, my inability to get my socks in the hamper, and my disastrous attempts at folding a fitted sheet, and the fact that you are still the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You did kind of fall into my lap,” I joked, and he laughed, then ran a hand over his mouth.

“I didn’t nail the landing, but I still won the race.” He held his glass to mine, and we clinked them together. “Now drink up. I’ll be right back.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can get lucky tonight?”

He snapped his fingers, a mischievous smirk curving the right side of his mouth. “You already figured out my plan.”

“Well, it’s a dumb plan because you don’t need alcohol to get lucky.” I shot him a sexy wink, and he grabbed his chest, pretending to fall backward. A laugh slipped from my lips, and I shook my head.

He straightened, and his eyes softened, all his humor momentarily fading, leaving only that warm, golden gaze focused on me.

“God, I love you,” he said, that grin I fell for so many times pulling wide.

“I know.” Fluttering my eyelashes, I took a sip of my wine, staring at him over the rim. “Now, what about that surprise?”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I really didn’t.

But tonight was over the top in a way that hinted at ring boxes and heartfelt proposals.

Wyatt was good with words when he needed to be.

He’d had plenty of practice from all the toasts he’d given over the last couple of years at our friends’ engagement parties and weddings.

“After we eat,” he said. “I can’t let the hunger gremlin come out.” The hunger gremlin was what he called it when I lacked nutrients, and my mood showed it. Nine times out of ten, he could end the start of a fight just by presenting me with a burrito or a plate of mozzarella sticks.

With a laugh, he headed toward the small room in the back of the barn that housed the kitchen and prep area. He returned with a plate of mozzarella sticks. He knew me so well.

“Fresh out of the oil from Don’s,” he announced, pride tinging his words.

“My favorite.”

“I know.” He placed the plate between us, and I didn’t hesitate to put one on my plate and another right in my mouth. I bit and pulled, revealing an epic cheese pull.

Wyatt’s eyes widened, and he jumped from the seat he had just taken. “Keep going! I see a new record.” He rooted me on as the cheese extended beyond my reach. A laugh burst through the teeth attempting to hold the cheese in place.

Wyatt took the fried stick in his hand, giggles rumbling my throat, as he stepped back, stretching the cheese until it finally broke.

Our arms flung in the air, and laughs exploded from both of us.

He dropped the mozzarella stick on his plate and picked me up, spinning me around like I had just won the most prestigious award.

And to us, I did. That was the best cheese pull either of us had ever had!

He placed me down. Our eyes met, the golden brown darkening. He’d looked at me so many times, in so many ways, but this… this was different.

The humorous glint was gone; no lazy smile, or flirtatious spark. Passion fueled the darkness of his irises. My knees weakened at the intensity, and my breath caught.

Was this the moment? It was perfect.

Ask me. Please.

The word yes was on my tongue, eager to escape. I loved this man so much, and I was ready to take the next step in our relationship and solidify our love on the grandest stage.

I waited, but the words never came. He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and took his seat again.

We ate the mozzarella sticks like normal humans and continued through the rest of the courses.

Once dessert was done, the material of my dress was no longer forgiving; I leaned back and exhaled. “I’m stuffed.”

“Hopefully not too stuffed. There’s one more surprise.”

“If it’s food, give it to me tomorrow. Or next week. Maybe never.”

He laughed, and it filled the barn with joy that wrapped around me.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together and shot up from his chair. “Close your eyes.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious. Now, no peeking, Grasso.”

I pressed my lips together, heart thundering against my chest. This was it. It had to be. I fidgeted with the stem of my glass, trying to keep my emotions at bay, but hope rose inside me.

“You didn’t close your eyes.”

With a sexy smirk, I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps hurrying away.

My breath hitched. This was it. The surprise.

I sensed him before he said a word. Despite the fact that at 5’11, he looked small next to my four brothers, his presence had made him larger than life.

He didn’t need the height, not when he had a dominating aura that you couldn’t ignore.

The faint rustling of a box opening and closing caught my attention. A slight thud of something being placed gently on the table in front of me had me sitting straight up.

“Okay, open.”

My eyes flew open, and I stared at a small black box. It was closed. Not opened. Not in his hands as he was on one knee, but Wyatt was never the conventional type. My breath caught in my throat as I reached for the box.

As a little girl, I had dreamed about this moment; as a woman in her twenties, I gave up that dream, never thinking it was in the cards for me. For us. But now. Now I could be the one inviting my friends to my engagement party, my bridal shower, my bachelorette party, my… wedding.

A rush of happiness flooded through me as I met Wyatt’s eyes.

“Go on,” he said, nodding toward the small box.

I flipped the lid open, the word yes ready to burst free.

It died on my tongue.

A necklace.

It’s a necklace.

A pretty one. A delicate gold chain with a golden camera charm nestled on a square of velvet.. Tears burned behind my eyes as the fragile hope I’d been clinging to shattered. I forced a smile, blinking hard and praying he wouldn’t notice how badly I’d misread everything.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his lips.

“L-love it,” I managed past the lump in my throat.

He took the charm between his fingers and turned it over. “I had it engraved.”

Love at first sight.

“Because you’ll never convince me it wasn’t.” He smiled, and my aching heart cracked a little more.

Disappointment consumed me, settled deep in my bones, but I forced a smile. This was on me, not him. I foolishly expected something he’d told me he never wanted. Marriage had always been off the table. Yet… I hoped.

I stared down at the golden camera. A beautiful and sweet gift.

The perfect representation of us. We’d been in photography class together but had never once spoken until the night of that party…

he had said he had admired me from afar for months.

Love at first sight, he always claimed. I jokingly called him an idiot.

Photography class.

Tears blurred my eyes. Disappointment battled with reality. It was perfect. Thoughtful. So Wyatt.

But it wasn’t a ring.

I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. “It’s perfect.” My voice was small, forcing past emotion that was trying to escape, and I was desperately trying to force down.

Relief flashed across his face, that adorable grin turning into a full-on dopey smile. “Here, let me put it on you.” He took the box from my grasp and gently removed the necklace. He stood behind me, bent to my ear. His breath caressed my skin. “Hold your hair.”

I brushed my shoulder-length bob away from my neck, holding it to the side. The cold press of the charm landed on my chest. Wyatt kissed my shoulder before stepping around me. “Perfect fit.”

My hand landed on the charm. Memories from photography class and all the assignments we did together after that party flooded my mind.

“Hold still,” I had teased, peering through my camera. “You look ridiculous with your tongue out.”

Wyatt had grinned. “I’m giving you a masterpiece, Grasso. This is art.”

“Happy anniversary, Rosebud.”

The words echoed in my ears like a hollow drum. He used the nickname only when he wanted to be sentimental.

I wanted to believe this was enough. His love, attention to detail, and adorable dorkiness were all I needed. But deep down, something stirred.

Something I had been ignoring for too long. Something that had been clawing out from the depths. I buried it with each new friend getting engaged and getting married. Ignored it until I couldn’t any longer.

I wanted Wyatt. But I wanted a wedding, too.

And the truth was.

I couldn’t have both.