Chapter 2
Two
The morning air carried the crisp bite of early autumn and the rich, earthy scent of ripening grapes. Emery pulled her cardigan tighter as she walked the stone path from the guesthouse to the main residence, her heels clicking softly against the flagstones.
The Boone family home—no, mansion—rose before her like something from a wine country magazine—a beautifully remodeled farmhouse that had been transformed into modern elegance.
The original bones of the structure remained, but sleek lines and expansive windows had now been seamlessly integrated with traditional terra-cotta roof tiles that glowed amber in the morning sun.
Ivy cascaded down white-washed walls in carefully cultivated patches, and floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the golden light like sheets of burnished copper, offering glimpses into rooms that felt both grand and welcoming.
The architectural marriage shouldn't have worked—farmhouse practicality meets modern sophistication—but somehow it created something unique.
The wide front porch with its original stone foundation now supported elegant arches, and modern steel-framed doors replaced what had probably once been simple wood, creating an entrance that invited you in while making it clear this was no ordinary family home.
She'd barely slept, her mind cycling between excitement about her first official day and anxiety about proving herself worthy of the faith the Boones were placing in her.
The guesthouse had been too quiet, too comfortable, too much like the life she'd always imagined having but had never quite achieved.
And then there was the matter of Devon—the way he'd looked at her last night, the tension that had thrummed between them despite her carefully constructed boundaries.
Professional, she reminded herself. She was here to rebuild her career. Not complicate it with feelings she couldn't afford to have.
The front door opened before she could knock, revealing Ashley in workout gear with her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. “Morning, Emery. You’re a little early.”
"I wanted to make a good impression on my first day."
"Smart thinking. Though honestly, after the way Dad was singing your praises last night, I think you could show up in pajamas, and he'd still be thrilled." Ashley grabbed her keys from a table near the door. "I'm heading into town for a yoga class, but Mom and Riley are in the kitchen if you want coffee before your meeting. Most mornings, Elsa is here to cook breakfast. Since you’re living on the property, you’ll be invited when she does.” Ashley leaned a little closer. “A small piece of advice. This family is overwhelming as hell. And you’re gonna want to pass on that gathering. But for the first couple of weeks, don’t. It will upset Elsa and offend my mother. However, after that, you can start cherry picking which mornings to bail.”
Emery blinked. Her pulse raced. Growing up, the Boone children had strolled through the streets of Stone Bridge as if they were going places.
Emery had been one of those kids who hadn’t fit into any group.
She hadn’t been popular. She’d tried a couple of sports but wasn’t any good.
There were only three things that interested Emery.
Art, history, and chemistry and it had made her a bit of an odd duck.
Leaving Stone Bridge had been an easy choice. College had been where Emery found her people—and herself. It was also where she’d fallen in love with wine, which was odd since she’d grown up in Napa. But living there, in some ways, had made her immune to what had been right in front of her.
An opportunity to do something distinctive. Something different. Something that combined a rich story with a dusty bottle, creating a unique piece of history that could be held onto for generations… or shared with those who appreciated and valued the tale.
Hasley appeared behind her sister, also dressed for departure with a purse slung over her shoulder. “Is my sister telling you all the tricks?”
“Just the breakfast one,” Ashley said.
“Here’s another one for you.” Hasley adjusted her bag. “Our mother is a lovely woman. Kind, caring, and while I wouldn’t say she meddles… she can be a little…” Hasley looked toward the ceiling and tapped her temple. “… Extra. She might ask a lot of questions. She might—”
“What my sister is trying to say is that because you're single and so is Devon, and she already believes something might have happened, she’s gonna play matchmaker.”
That was the last thing Emery needed.
“But it won’t be as bad as it is with us girls. It’s never as bad,” Ashley said.
“No truer words.” Hasley looped her arm around her sister. “And fair warning— our mom made her famous cinnamon rolls this morning. She only breaks those out for special occasions."
"Special occasions?" Emery asked.
"New family members, holidays, and whenever she's trying to butter someone up—or fix them up,” Ashley explained with a roll of her eyes. "In your case, I think it's a combination of the first and last.”
Emery groaned. Professional boundaries, she reminded herself. It’s not like that was impossible. She and Devon had never been a couple. They only slept together a couple of times. Sexted on occasion. Flirted like crazy. But it all stopped now.
The sisters headed out, leaving Emery to follow the sound of voices toward the back of the house.
Family portraits lined the long corridor. She walked slowly, examining each one. There were images of Walter Boone as a young man, beginning the long process of turning his father’s hobby into a thriving business.
More of the four Boone children and their various activities. Bryson and Devon playing football. The girls in the cheerleading outfits. Family portraits. Candid shots.
Even framed images of Riley’s siblings and their children lined the walls.
The rich history that filled the space made Emery’s chest tighten.
She continued toward the kitchen, which was enormous—all warm wood, granite countertops, and copper pots hanging from a wrought-iron rack.
French doors stood open to a patio where herbs grew in terra cotta planters, and the morning sun streamed through windows that offered a perfect view of the vineyard beyond.
Riley sat at a massive island that could easily seat twelve, cradling a mug of coffee between her hands.
She looked more relaxed than she had the night before, dressed in jeans and a soft sweater, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.
Brea stood at the stove, transferring golden cinnamon rolls from a baking sheet to a platter.
“I thought I heard you come in.” Brea turned with the warmth of a woman who'd been mothering people for decades. "I hope you slept well, sweetheart. The guesthouse can be a bit quiet if you're not used to country sounds."
"I slept wonderfully, thank you. And this kitchen is incredible—it's like something from a cooking show."
"Walter designed it for me as an anniversary gift twenty years ago.
He said if I was going to regularly feed half of Stone Bridge, I needed proper facilities.
" Brea set the platter on the table and poured Emery a cup of coffee from a pot that looked like it could caffeinate a small army.
"Now sit, eat something. You'll need fuel for whatever my boys have planned for you today. "
Emery settled into the chair across from Riley, accepting the coffee gratefully. "Where are Devon and Bryson?"
"Walking the vines," Riley said. "It's their morning ritual. They go out early to check on things, argue about irrigation schedules, and generally solve the world's problems before the rest of us are even awake."
"Don't let them fool you," Brea added, settling into a chair with her own mug. "Half the time they're out there gossiping like old ladies. Yesterday, I caught them having a heated debate about whether the new sommelier at Meadowbrook knows what he's talking about."
"And the verdict?" Emery asked.
"Bryson thinks he's pretentious. Devon thinks he's compensating for inexperience with big words." Riley's smile was genuine. "They're both probably right."
Brea glanced at her watch and stood. "I’m sorry, but I have to run.
I had no idea how late it was, and I have an appointment with a fundraising committee in twenty minutes.
Emery, help yourself to anything you need.
Riley, don't let the boys intimidate her with too much on her first day.
" Brea bustled out, leaving Emery and Riley alone in the sun-drenched kitchen.
The silence that followed was comfortable rather than awkward, filled with the domestic sounds of a settling house and distant birdsong.
“I wanted to chat with you about the interview I’ve set up with a local reporter,” Riley said.
Emery’s previous careers had forced her to learn to be comfortable in the spotlight. However, those situations never had anything to do with her personally. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I do.” Riley leaned back and held Emery’s gaze. “We know people enjoy gossiping, and they’re going to do it whether we like it or not. Going on the offense is better than being on the defense, trust me on this. It gives us a chance to control the narrative from the get-go.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Emery palmed her mug, staring into the dark liquid. During both her careers, she’d done many interviews. They’d never intimidated her before. But this one utterly terrified her.
"This must be strange for you.” Riley shifted on her stool, leaned forward, and rested her clasped hands on the counter. "Coming back to Stone Bridge after everything."
“Being anywhere in wine country would be difficult.” Emery took a bite of the cinnamon roll and nearly groaned with pleasure. "God, these are incredible. Your future mother-in-law is trying to fatten me up."