Tempt Me (The Everton Legacy #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

CADEN

I crack the window of the town car and allow wisps of humid summer air into the sleek interior.

That smell—sun-soaked grass and the tang of the ocean—brings a wave of memories. It’s been five years since I left Magnolia Bay, the small Long Island town my family calls home.

Let’s be honest, my family basically rules the town. Everton Estate is the most successful winery on the North Fork, a billion-dollar company that my father runs with an iron fist. A company I was meant to inherit.

I swore when I left that it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let my father control my life anymore. Even if it meant leaving my home—and the woman I loved.

My stomach clenches, thinking about that day when everything changed. The day I lost it all. The dreams I had. The future I was so sure of.

That was the day my mother died.

And it had started so well. Perfectly in fact. That morning, I woke up with Isla in my arms.

Five years ago, there was a grand gala to celebrate Everton Estate’s seventy-fifth anniversary. Mom invited the whole town to mingle alongside the influencers, politicians, and businessmen my dad always surrounded himself with. Mom never cared about the glitz and the glamour of being an Everton—she loved Magnolia Bay and the people who gave the town its charm. The party was meant to be the highlight of the summer. But for me, it was so much more. It was the night I confessed my feelings to Isla. The night I spent making love to her in her small, cozy apartment. It was the start of something new and hopeful.

The next morning, I returned home to discover my mother had been murdered.

Right there, on our property. At our home . Someone had shot her.

The sheriff believed it was a robbery gone wrong. My father was certain it had something to do with the estate, some business enemy out for revenge.

But whatever the motivation, the result was the same. My mother was dead.

My stomach turns at the memories—a body bag on a stretcher, the sound of my sister Von screaming. My dad in his robe and slippers, looking deranged. Broken. These are thoughts I’ve tried to keep locked away along with Isla. The scent of her. The warm softness of her skin. I gave all that up. I abandoned her.

I didn’t even give her an explanation. But I couldn’t play Dad’s games anymore. And he would never let me see Isla again.

So I left.

Then, two days ago, I got a text from my best friend, Noah. He’s a deputy in the Magnolia Bay sheriff’s department now.

Your mom’s case is officially cold, he’d written. The files are going to be moved down to the basement next week. There just aren’t any new leads. There’s nothing to investigate. I’m so sorry, Caden. I thought you should hear it from me.

It felt like losing her all over again. The thought of everyone just…giving up.

So I said fuck that and bought a plane ticket.

If the police won’t do their jobs, I will. I’m not letting my mother’s killer escape justice. I’ll find out who did this myself.

“It is good to have you back,” Alex says from the driver’s seat, in his thick Ukrainian accent. Dad’s chauffeur has a few more lines around his mouth and eyes since last I saw him.

“I’m not back,” I say tersely. Once I get Mom’s case restarted, I’m on the next flight to Buenos Aires, back to Catarina Azul, the vineyard I’ve been working at for the past four years. Where life is simple, and I don’t have to think about everything I’ve lost. Where I’m not an Everton. Just another pair of hands.

We roll down Magnolia Way—or just the Way, as it’s called in town—the street where the wealthy residents of Magnolia Bay live. Our town has always been split in two. I was on one side and Isla on the other. I wonder if she’s still baking for her family’s bed and breakfast. If she still has that faintly sugary scent. If her eyes are as green as I remember. I stare at the mansions we pass, stone behemoths set back from the road with perfectly manicured lawns. Everything looks remarkably the same.

Our house is the last one on the Way. We turn down the drive, passing the lodge where our winery holds tastings and events. Rows of vines, a showcase of our estate, sit between the lodge and the house. My family home is enormous, a mix of stone and wood, with a long farmer’s porch and big front windows.

Someone has planted rosebushes along the front of the porch. I feel a jerk in my chest.

Mom would have liked that.

I wonder if her garden is still the same—if they’ve kept it up or let it grow wild and unkempt. As I get out of the car, I see two girls in running gear jogging down the road. They slow as they catch sight of me, then pick up their pace.

Great. My presence has been noticed.

And nothing ever stays a secret in Magnolia Bay.

But it doesn’t matter if my return is fodder for local gossip. I’m here for answers and I’m determined to find them.

“Caden!” I hear my name echo from across the vineyard. Daisy stands on the porch of the lodge, waving frantically. She hops down the steps and races up the drive, her strawberry-blonde ponytail swinging wildly, her gray Converse pounding against the pavement. She reaches me and launches herself into my arms.

I feel an odd softness in my ribs as I hug my sister.

“You’re here!” she cries, and when she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes. The last time I saw her, she was only nineteen. Now she’s twenty-four and god, she looks so much like our mother. The bright blue eyes, the dimple at her chin, the way she smiles. It’s a punch to the solar plexus. For a moment, I can’t catch my breath.

“Course I’m here,” I say gruffly. “Told you I was coming.”

She punches me on the shoulder.

“Ow,” I say.

“Don’t you dare act like that,” she says. “Five years. You’ve been gone five years, Cade!”

“I know,” I say, feeling a sharp twinge of guilt.

Daisy takes in my clothes and her eyes pop. I guess distressed jeans and a plain white tee weren’t my usual attire. Dad insisted I always looked presentable.

But I don’t follow his rules anymore.

“You got tattoos !” Daisy cries.

Oh. Right. “Yeah,” I say, looking down at the intricate sleeve of ink that covers one arm.

“Cool,” Daisy says, grinning. I’m glad I’m seeing Daisy first. I don’t know what my other siblings think of me. Of my absence. I haven’t been completely off the grid—after the first year, I started reaching out to them on birthdays. And the anniversary of Mom’s death. Not my father though. I swore I’d never speak to him again.

Looks like that’s one promise I’m going to have to break.

“How have you been?” I ask.

“I’m officially in charge of running the tasting room, as of this summer,” Daisy says proudly.

“Wow,” I say.

“And Alistair is doing PR for the estate and he’s actually really good at it.”

“This does not surprise me,” I say with chuckle, running a hand through my hair. It’s longer than it used to be. I don’t keep it neatly trimmed anymore. No one cares what I look like when I’m working in the vineyards. “Alistair and PR go to together like?—”

“Peanut butter and jelly,” Daisy finishes.

“I was going to say caviar and champagne. That’s more Al’s style right?”

Daisy laughs and loops her arm through mine. “Finn and Alistair are in the house. They’re going to be so happy to see you.”

I’m not so sure about that. I abandoned my twin brothers along with the rest of my family. There are five of us Everton siblings: me, Von, Alistair and Finn, and Daisy. As we head into the house, I ask, “What about Von?”

“She’s a lawyer with some big firm in the city. She said she was going to try and come out for dinner when I told her you were arriving today, but she hasn’t confirmed. She’s like that now. She works insane hours.”

“Dad’s not grooming her to run the estate?” I ask, surprised. That was the threat he had leveled against me before the fateful party—do what he says, toe the company line, or else Von inherits Everton and I’m left with nothing. I assumed, having chosen to leave the country, I made my intentions clear.

Daisy shoots me a pitying look. “Oh Caden,” she says.

“What?”

She just shakes her head. Then she looks up at me with a fragile blue gaze.

“Do you really think you can find out who killed Mom?” she asks.

Alex hands me my duffel bag and I haul it over my shoulder. “I’m not letting them put her file in the fucking basement,” I growl.

Daisy presses her lips together in a line. “Good.”

I follow her inside. As soon as I enter the foyer, I’m hit with a thousand memories. The scent of the floor polish, the sheen of the banister on the sweeping front staircase, the paintings on the walls, the mix of antique and modern furnishings in the front parlor…it all brings to mind the days in my childhood, running around with Von, or sitting with Mom in the front room playing checkers, or trying to wrangle Alistair when Dad had guests over…or worse, those last final days, worrying over asking Isla out, wondering how to broach my father about my own plans for the estate. Silly, small worries, they seem now.

“You can use your old room,” Daisy says, unaware of my inner turmoil. “It’s all ready for you.”

“Right,” I say, my voice tight.

“Al!” Daisy calls up the stairs. “Finn! Caden’s here!”

A moment later I hear the thunder of footsteps coming from the second floor. My brother Alistair skids to a halt at the top of the staircase and stares at me, open mouthed.

“Holy shit,” he says. His cheerful face breaks into a wide grin. “Dude! You’re back!”

He runs down the stairs, sandy hair flying, and envelops me in a hug to rival Daisy’s.

“Damn,” Alistair says, releasing me. “You got jacked! What have you been doing down there in South America? Bench pressing cows?”

“Working,” I say.

“Ha,” Alistair says, then frowns. “Wait seriously? Working? Come on, Cade. I assumed you were living the high life. Casinos, women, ultra-luxe cruises, the works. Don’t disappoint me.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that people would have come up with their own theories. Noah is the only one who really knows what I’ve been doing—he’s been my best friend since kindergarten and it turns out, abandoning your best friend is somehow harder to do than disappearing on your family. Noah would not let me vanish.

“It’s good to see you, Al,” I say. “You look the same.”

Alistair laughs. “Did you think I’d lose my fashion sense while you were gone?”

Ever the ostentatious dresser, Alistair is wearing yellow pants and a green checkered button down with a pair of orange Vans.

“So,” he says as we head down the long main hallway toward the back of the house, “you really think you can find Mom’s killer, huh?”

“You sound like Daisy,” I say, exasperated. “Someone has to try at least.”

“Hey,” Daisy says, as Al says, “Don’t get snippy on us. We did try, you know. Dad hired a private investigator. Even tried to use his connections to get the FBI involved. There wasn’t any evidence. You’re the one who left.”

His words sting but he’s right. “Sorry,” I say.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Alistair says, so sincerely that I can’t bring myself to remind him I’m not back. This is temporary.

But the truth is, I missed my brothers and sisters.

“It’s good to know Dad hired a PI,” I say. “That’ll be my first call.” I hesitate. “So, where is Dad?” I hate the way my nerves twitch at the thought of seeing him.

“At the office,” Daisy says.

I relax a little.

“Finn,” Alistair says, as we enter the sunroom. “Look who’s here.”

Alistair and Finn might be twins, but they couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. While Al is flashy, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, Finn is neat down to the last detail, with jet-black hair and ice-blue eyes. He’s sitting in Mom’s old armchair, the one she always used to drink her coffee in in the mornings. A lump forms in my throat.

Finn puts down his copy of the Times and stands. He seems taller somehow.

“Caden,” he says formally.

“Hey Finn,” I say.

He extends a hand.

Alistair rolls his eyes. “For god’s sake, Finn, he’s your brother, not some fellow city council member you’re trying to impress.”

“You’re on the city council now?” I ask. Finn always had an eye on going into politics.

“I’m Vice President,” Finn says proudly.

“That’s great,” I say.

Finn doesn’t seem to need any further encouragement before he launches into a diatribe about what a headache the permits for this year’s Magnolia Day festival have been, but my attention is drawn to something else.

The entire back wall of the sunroom is nothing but windows and for a moment, my vision blurs and there’s a faint ringing in my ears as my gaze falls on my mother’s pottery shed. Her favorite spot, full of clutter, the place I used to think of as a mad inventor’s home in Wonderland.

It’s the place where she was murdered.

Last time I saw it, it was surrounded by crime scene tape and there were cops putting things in evidence bags. Now it looks the same as it used to—teal door, red roof, gray shingles. I’m half surprised it’s still here. I would have thought Dad would’ve had it torn down. My father is not a man who handles deep emotions well.

“We’ve made sure to keep everything the same,” Daisy says quietly. “No one has been inside Mom’s shed since that day. Well, except Fred Norman, the investigator. Dad let him look at it. He didn’t find anything more than the police did. And Dad hired a company to replace the window where the, um, bullet went through and clean the…” Her face goes pale. “Clean the blood off the floor.”

A heavy silence cloaks the room.

“But he wouldn’t let them touch anything else,” Daisy says, plowing ahead bravely. “Her kiln and her potter’s wheel and all those little trinkets…it’s all exactly the same. And we’ve kept her garden the same too. Dad insisted on it.”

I jerk my head to the right, to the sprawling hedges and massive rhododendrons that lead to Mom’s very own secret garden—the one Dad had built for her after they got married. As far as I’m aware, Dad never even set foot in there. He may own wineries from the North Fork to Napa to Barossa Valley, but my father is not an outdoorsy man. Mom was the one who taught me all about ecosystems, about the balance of nature. She was the one who inspired my dreams to make Everton the leader of the sustainable wine movement. A dream my father never wanted to hear about.

A dream that doesn’t matter anymore because I’ll never run this estate.

Being back is already hard enough as it is. Seeing my family.

I can’t let Magnolia Bay sink its hooks into me. I can’t let Everton Estate pull me in. I left for a reason. I have to hold onto that.

Daisy touches my arm gently. “He’s missed you, Cade.”

I snort. “Sure.”

She purses her lips. “Haven’t you missed us? At all?”

I look into my little sister’s sky-blue eyes and feel like I’m falling backwards in time.

“Yes,” I say quietly.

I turn away and stride over to the wall of windows. The garden does look well cared for. The rhododendrons are bursting with color, magenta and baby pink. I wonder how Mom’s tomato plants are doing. I squeeze my eyes shut and a memory of the party overtakes me. Showing Isla the garden, after we kissed for the first time. We had been friends forever—I’ve known Isla since elementary school. It had taken six months of Noah psyching me up before I finally got the nerve to ask her out. And it happened so naturally.

We just fit. Like we were meant to be together.

And then it all crumbled to ashes.

The front door opens then slams shut, and I jump as Von’s voice echoes down the hall.

“Where is he?”

“Down here Von!” Daisy calls.

Von strides into the sunroom and glares up at me. She’s immaculately dressed—black pencil skirt, tailored white button down, a pair of fierce Jimmy Choos. Her auburn hair is swept into a sleek bun at the base of her neck and her cinnamon-brown eyes glow with venom.

She’s exactly as I remember her, except now it seems she dresses to kill. I bet Dad approves of that. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“So,” she says. “You really did come back.”

“Good to see you too, Siobhan,” I say.

Her eyes narrow. “You fucking left us.”

“Von, please,” Daisy says. “Don’t fight.”

“I’m a lawyer, Daisy, that’s what I do.”

“Who’s the lucky firm?” I ask.

“I’m a junior partner at Phillips, Brace, and Horowitz,” Von says, unable to hide the pride in her voice. Then her eyes soften the tiniest fraction. “Do you really think you can just swoop back into town and find Mom’s killer like that?” She snaps her fingers.

“Yes,” I say. Von always brought out my stubborn side.

Von rolls her eyes. Alistair looks vaguely amused, Finn incredulous. Daisy is the only one who looks hopeful.

“I believe in you, Caden,” Daisy says.

“Thanks,” I say, suddenly tempted to ruffle her hair like I used to do.

Alistair claps his hands. “Look at us. All five Evertons in one room together. Should we take a picture to commemorate this auspicious occasion?”

“I’m sure your homecoming is going to set Magnolia Bay on fire,” Daisy says, grinning. “Everyone will be so happy to know you’re back!”

“I’m not back,” I try to insist. This is only temporary. But no one is listening to me.

Finn is complaining to Von about the permits again and Daisy is eagerly informing me of some local town news, while Alistair suggests opening a bottle of wine.

“Jake Stein has taken over the Crooked Screw,” Daisy is saying. “And he’s doing a really great job. Oh, and remember Emily Cochran? I’m thinking about hiring her for the tasting room, she’s really sweet and reliable. Nothing like her brother Mike, ugh.” Daisy makes a face.

I wait, with a foolish hopefulness, for her to mention Isla. Is she happy? Has she moved on? Did I hurt her when I left? Does she despise me now?

But no one can answer those questions for me except Isla. I find myself suddenly filled with the need to get out of this house, to head into town in search of her. Even if only to see her once. Just to know she’s okay.

My siblings are still talking over each other. I tell Daisy I’ll be right back, then slip out of the room and head upstairs.

First things first—I’m in desperate need of a shower.

Then I’m going to find Isla.