Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Emma Present Day
P resent Day
Thursdays are supposed to be a smooth glide toward the weekend but today has been anything but easy. My office phone has rung off the hook all day, emails have piled up faster than I can read them, and I’ve had to put out more fires than a rookie firefighter. By the time five o’clock rolls around, my head is throbbing, and I’m more than ready to call it a day.
I sigh, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. My law practice is thriving—or at least, it’s keeping me busier than I ever imagined. But most of my business still comes from my brother Brennen’s winery, Celtic Knot, and my other brother, Ryan’s company, Shadow Strike Ventures.
I’m grateful for the work, but sometimes it feels like I’m living in their shadows, like I’m not really doing this on my own. Having an impending prestigious wine critic scheduled to show up at Brennen’s winery to critique his wine next month isn’t helping Brennen’s attitude, either. He’s been a complete dickwad lately.
Today was just one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. An urgent contract review for Ryan turned into a three- hour video meeting, and then a minor dispute with a winery vendor escalated into a full-blown legal headache. On top of that, my assistant, Maggie, is on vacation in London to visit family, leaving me to juggle client meetings, paperwork, and a mountain of correspondence all by myself.
As I close my laptop, I check my phone and see a message from Isabella, the winery’s assistant and a dear friend.
Isabella: Drinks tonight at Jumpin' Jacks? You sounded like you could use it when I texted you during lunch today.
I grin, texting back quickly.
Me: You’re a mind reader. I’m in.
Isabella: I’ll invite Sophie, too.
Me:
Jumpin' Jacks has become our go-to spot for unwinding after particularly rough days. It’s a cozy, laid-back bar on the beach next to a five-star hotel, with just the right mix of atmosphere and anonymity. After a few drinks there, the world always seems a little brighter, and I can almost forget that I’m living in a place where everyone knows everyone else’s shit.
A smile blooms as I think about Sophie joining us. The new head winemaker started a few months ago, and she’s been making a splash with her innovative ideas ever since. She’s also become a dear friend, just like Isabella.
A check of my morning calendar for the next day and I’m all set. Grabbing my things, I lock up the office and head out, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the thought of a drink—or three—and some good company.
Jumpin' Jacks is exactly what I need. The warm, dim lighting, the low hum of conversation, and the smell of fried food are comforting, familiar. I walk in and scan the room in search of Isabella but see a blond woman in a corner booth glaring at me. She seems familiar, but I ignore her as I spot Isabella on the other side of the bar in another corner booth, already nursing a margarita, and I slide in across from her.
“Long day?” she asks with a knowing smile.
“You have no idea,” I groan, signaling the waitress for a drink. “If I have to look at one more contract or mediate one more pointless argument, I might just quit and become a winemaker myself.”
Isabella laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t even joke about that. Brennen would love it if he could steal you away from your practice.”
The waitress arrives with my drink—whiskey, neat—and I take a long, satisfying sip. “How’s your day been?” I ask, changing the subject.
Isabella leans back in her seat, considering. “I’m good. Jasper’s been a bit cranky lately, but that’s the job of a Golden Retriever puppy, right?” She laughs.
Sophie walks in, looking around the bar until she spots us. I wave her over, and she approaches with a giant smile.
“Hey, Sophie, glad you could make it,” I say as she slides into the booth beside me.
“Thanks,” she replies, her voice soft but steady. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”
“Tell me about it,” I commiserate, raising my glass. “TGI almost Friday. Here’s to surviving ‘til the weekend.”
She clinks her glass against mine, and we take a drink. The conversation flows easily after that, mostly shop talk about the winery and some light gossip about the town. Sophie talks about her plans, and I see why Brennen was so keen to bring her on board. She’s sharp, with a clear passion for winemaking and a determination that I can respect. She’s going to be good for Brennen and Celtic Knot.
Isabella is more than an assistant at the winery. She keeps the place moving forward and Brennen on task. Some days she’s the marketing person; other days she’s the plumber. On her first day a few years ago, I immediately recognized her worth. I didn’t think she’d stay long with the Celtic Knot’s reputation, but she has. What my father did all those years ago pushed the winery back twenty years, at least, and I’m glad my grandfather and his father never saw the fall of Celtic Knot.
Isabella’s phone rings, so she jumps up to answer it. “It’s my mom. I’ll be right back.” Sophie and I watch as she goes over on the other side of the bar where the music isn’t as loud. We both keep an eye on her because, well, girl code. Gotta keep each other safe… even in a small town.
On her way back to the table, I see her briefly talking to some guy. “Everything okay?” I ask as I sip more of my drink.
“Yeah. Just some weird guy trying to hit on me” She looks at us and winces. “I hate to cut this short, ladies, but I’ve got to run,” she says. “I need to go rescue my mother from puppy-sitting duties. Apparently, Jasper has eaten one of her shoes.” She shows Sophia and me a picture of a once beautiful shoe scored by puppy teeth.
“Oh, that’s painful to look at,” I say, though I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. I was hoping for a ladies’ night. “Go save your puppy from your mom.”
She grins, squeezing my shoulder as she heads out. “We’ll do this again soon,” she calls over her shoulder. “Promise!”
Sophie lingers for a few more minutes, finishing her drink and chatting with me about her plans for the upcoming weekend, but soon she, too, makes her excuses and heads out. I can’t blame her—it’s only Thursday, after all, and she’s probably exhausted.
Now I’m alone in the giant booth, staring into the amber depths of my whiskey glass. For a moment, I consider heading home myself. But the thought of returning to my empty cottage, of spending another night tossing and turning, replaying the day’s stresses in my head, is too much.
Instead, I slide out of the booth and make my way to the bar, settling onto a stool. The bartender nods at me, refilling my glass without a word. I appreciate the solitude, the chance to just sit and breathe for a minute.
I’m halfway through my drink when someone stands next to the stool beside me. I glance over, half-expecting to see another of the town’s regulars, but instead, I’m met with a pair of striking dark brown eyes and a smile that’s equal parts charming and mischievous.
“Rough day?” he asks, his voice smooth as silk.
“You could say that,” I reply, turning slightly to face him. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a way that suggests he doesn’t usually hang out in small-town bars like Jumpin’ Jacks. There’s something about him that immediately piques my interest, though.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, gesturing to the empty stool beside me.
“Be my guest,” I say, intrigued.
He orders a drink, something dark and strong, and we sit in companionable silence for a moment. I can’t help but notice the way his eyes seem to take in everything around us, like he’s assessing the room, or maybe just me.
“Is this place usually this quiet on a Thursday night?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Depends on the night,” I reply with a shrug. “But it’s good for thinking. Or drinking.” I raise my glass.
He chuckles, a deep sound that vibrates through the quiet of the bar. “Sounds like you’ve got both on your agenda tonight.”
“Maybe,” I say, taking a sip of my drink, the warmth of the alcohol settling into my veins. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a little company, though.”
He raises his glass, as if to toast to that sentiment. “Here’s to unexpected company, then.”
Our glasses clink softly, and I take a moment to study him. There’s a quiet confidence about him, something that suggests he’s comfortable wherever he goes, no matter the setting. It’s interesting, and I find myself wanting to know more, even if it’s just for tonight.
“So, what brings you to a place like this?” I ask, curious about this stranger who’s somehow ended up next to me in this beach bar.
“Business,” he replies with a nonchalant shrug. “But I like to mix business with pleasure whenever I can.”
I raise an eyebrow, amused. “And which one am I?”
He grins, leaning in slightly. “I’m hoping the latter.”
There’s a spark of chemistry between us, something electric that makes my pulse quicken. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with it.
“So, what do you do when you’re not sitting alone at bars, drowning your sorrows?” he asks, his tone teasing but not unkind.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I reply, keeping my tone light, playful.
He chuckles again, that same deep, warm sound. “I would, actually. But I won’t push.”
His restraint only makes me more curious about him. There’s an air of mystery around him, and I can’t help but wonder what stories he’s hiding behind those chocolate-brown eyes.
“Tell me something interesting about yourself,” he says, turning the tables on me. “Something that would surprise me.”
I hesitate, not sure how much I want to share with this stranger. But there’s something about him that makes me want to keep talking, to see where this conversation might lead.
“Well,” I say, deciding to play along, “I collect wooden rulers. That’s got to count as something interesting. Right?”
He looks at me, clearly confused. “Okay. I’ve got to know. Why do you collect wooden rulers?” He pauses, a smile playing on his lips.
“I don’t know. I’ve always loved them; the colors and printing on them. Eventually, I’ll use the ones I’ve collected to cover a wall in my cottage for a unique look,” I reply, my confidence returning as I meet his curious gaze.
“That is something interesting.” His voice is deadpan as he drains the rest of his glass.
“Turnabout is fair play. Time to tell me something interesting about you,” I challenge him with my eyebrows raised.
He thinks for a minute, “Okay. Here’s something. I enjoy making balloon animals, and I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.”
“Balloon animals?” I cannot believe this giant of a man, sitting here drinking whiskey, makes balloon animals. “Like the kind at kids’ birthday parties?”
He laughs at my question, “Yep. I wanted to be a clown when I was a kid, and my dad told me that the first step was to learn how to make balloon animals.” He looks a bit embarrassed, “So, I did.”
“You just wanted to impress the girls. Admit it.” I tease him.
His deep laugh touches something in my core. “You’re right.”
“Did it work? Did you impress all the girls in your school?”
“Only until high school. They weren’t too impressed with my balloon animal capabilities then.” We both erupt into laughter so loud the rest of the bar stops and turns toward us.
We continue to talk, the conversation flowing easily, with laughter and a few flirtatious remarks. There’s an unspoken understanding between us, a mutual attraction that neither of us is trying to hide. The night stretches on, the hours slipping away unnoticed as we exchange stories, half-truths, and playful banter.
For the first time all day, I feel the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders, replaced by the simple pleasure of connecting with someone new, someone who sees me not as the lawyer or the sister or the woman with too many responsibilities, but just as a person willing to share a drink or five.
For tonight, that’s more than enough.