29. Emma
Twenty Nine
Emma
L aughter and the enticing blend of crushed grape juice and toasted oak mingled in the crisp morning air, infusing the vineyard grounds with festive energy. The normally serene rows of leafy vines had been transformed—twinkling fairy lights intertwined with vibrant ribbons, creating a whimsical atmosphere in preparation for the annual Grape Stomp Festival.
Excitement fizzed through my veins as I surveyed the bustling activity from the terrace of the main villa. All the cozy guest cabins nestled in the grove stood fully booked and ready to host the influx of visitors from the surrounding valley towns. My breath emerged in faint puffs, chased away by the steadily rising sun peeking over the rolling hillsides.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with his hungover presence.”
Ethan’s wry tone snapped my wandering attention toward the wrought-iron bistro set. My older brother sprawled there, an amused smirk curling those lips that mirrored my own as he nursed a steaming mug of what I could only assume was industrial-strength Colombian roast.
Leo lumbered through the terrace’s arched entranced, scrubbing both palms over his whiskered jaw with a jaw-cracking yawn. His tawny locks stuck up in tousled disarray and his wardrobe—a vintage Stanford tee and rumpled sleep pants—suggested he’d rolled straight from the tangled sheets.
“Morning,” he grumbled, collapsing into the empty chair across from Ethan. He snagged the full carafe, pouring himself a mug and draining half of it in three long gulps. With a sigh, he leaned back and leveled Ethan with an unapologetic look over the rim. “Yeah, well, Marty dragged out that damn poker game longer than planned.”
“I’ll say,” Ethan snorted. “You look like you got hit by the hangover express, bro. Tell me you least won back some of your dignity.”
Leo allowed a roguish grin to curve those unfairly chiseled features of his. “Only way to find out is next time you join us for the re-match.”
Before Ethan could accept the open challenge, two tiny blonde whirlwinds came careening across the terrace, all giggles and exuberant shrieks. Lily and Avery, moving twin comets of unbridled energy, hurtled straight for me at full speed.
“Emmy!” they chorused in sync, colliding solidly against my shins as I crouched with my arms spread wide to enfold them.
“Hey, little sprouts,” I laughed, pressing a smacking kiss to each golden head. “You two excited for Grape Stomp Day?”
A rapid-fire patter of answers tumbled forth as they nodded enthusiastically, bouncing in my arms with puppyish exuberance. Ruffling their silky tresses, I glanced up to find an indulgent look of paternal pride crinkling the laugh lines around Ridge’s eyes.
As though summoned by my mere thought, there he stood in the stone archway, all rugged handsomeness in his battered Stetson and faded denim. His broad shoulders filled the worn leather of his ranch jacket, caked in the unique, earthy-and-leather scent that was distinctly Ridge.
The moment our gazes met and locked, that same inexplicable magnetic pull zapped through me—a visceral, pounding need to be near him that stripped me of conscious thought. Every finely-chiseled plane and shadowed angle of his face I’d already memorized somehow struck me anew, conjuring a flickering tendril of yearning in my core.
As though in slow motion, his lush mouth curved in that halfway smile I’d come to crave more than the bouquet of an aged Bordeaux. “Mornin’, little flower.” That smokey rasp slipped through my defenses like a caress, his term of endearment both benediction and incantation to summon me directly into his orbit.
Unable to resist the gravitational pull, I drifted toward him until his calloused fingers grazed the curve of my jaw with a whisper of exquisite tenderness. The simple contact sent tingles of longing spiraling through me as his nose grazed the slope of my cheek, mouth brushing a devastatingly unhurried kiss there.
“Hey, cowboy.” My voice emerged husky, fraught with an intimacy we still kept veiled around the kids and family. With a last, lingering caress of his lips, Ridge finally pulled back mere inches—only to have his gaze arrested by the watchful figure of my older brother now standing protectively beside me.
“So you’re the infamous cowboy I’ve been hearin’ so much about.” The trademark smirk curved Leo’s mouth as he extended one hand in greeting. “Leone Harrison—but most just called me Leo. The big brother.”
Ridge’s eyes flickered toward me, a silent question in the green depths. I gave an imperceptible nod. He exhaled, then turned to shake Leo’s outstretched hand, his grip firm and cordial despite the tightness around his eyes.
The door swung open, admitting James and Cody in a swirl of crisp mountain air. James’s face lit up as he caught sight of me. “Hello, Emma. You look stunning as always.” His gaze swept over me in clear appreciation.
A low rumble sounded from Ridge’s direction. James shot his older brother an unrepentant grin and shrugged. Pivoting toward Leo, he stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m James, this behemoth’s younger brother.”
Leo’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he clasped James’s hand. “Leo. Emma and Ethan’s big brother. Nice to meet you.” His gaze dipped meaningfully to the cable-knit sweater stretched across James’s broad chest. “I like the look.”
An endearing flush crept up James’s neck. “Oh…uh, thanks.” He tugged self-consciously at the hem. “It gets crazy cold in that tiny box they call my classroom. Being a lit professor doesn’t exactly put you at the top of the heating priority list.”
Leo’s eyes danced with interest at the mention of literature. My heart swelled at the familiar sparkle. The door banged open again, admitting a tall, dark-haired man I vaguely recognized from a night at the pub a few weeks back. A petite young woman with azure eyes and chin-length ebony tresses trailed in his wake, hands jammed in her pockets as she surveyed the room with open curiosity.
Ridge stiffened beside me, the motion jostling Avery where she cuddled against his chest. Extricating one hand from his coat, he extended it to the newcomer. “Martin, good to see you again.”
Martin’s grip engulfed Ridge’s in a crushing shake. A high-pitched squeal shattered the air. “Mel!” Lily launched herself at the young woman, wrapping her in an enthusiastic hug that made her stagger.
Mel’s surprised expression melted into a warm smile, crinkling the corners of her azure eyes. “Hey Lily,” she rasped, patting Lily’s back. “It’s been too long.” She pulled back, shooting a playful glare at Cody over Lily’s head. “You keeping this one out of trouble?”
Cody flashed a roguish grin, slinging an arm around Lily’s shoulders. “Trying my damnedest, but you know how she is.”
Mel snorted indelicately, shoving her hands back into her pockets. “Don’t I ever.”
“That’s my daughter, Melera,” Martin interjected with a proud smile.
Mel whipped around, eyes blazing. “Dad! What did I say about the full name?”
Martin held up his hands in surrender, though his expression remained unabashedly adoring. “Mel used to babysit for us before she went to college,” Ridge explained to me. “Smart as a whip and kept these two terrors in line.” He jerked his chin at Lily and Cody, who rolled his eyes heavenward.
“I certainly tried,” Mel said dryly. She swept me with an assessing look from beneath absurdly long lashes. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Mel.”
I extended my hand, unable to repress a grin at her frankness. “Emma. It’s nice to meet you.”
Her grip was deceptively strong, her callused fingers suggesting a athlete beneath the slim build. “You too.” She canted her head.
Martin shifted his weight, suddenly looking almost…sheepish? A frown tugged at his craggy features as his gaze flicked between Leo and me. “Listen, I hope you don’t mind that I brought Mel along.” He jerked his chin toward the dark-haired girl at his side. “She was only in town for the weekend and I didn’t want her to be alone at home.”
I blinked, nonplussed by his preamble. Of course we didn’t mind. The more the merrier as far as I was concerned. But something in Martin’s tone suggested he expected resistance.
I followed his trailing words to my older brother. Leo’s trademark smile stretched wide and easy, banishing Martin’s doubts with its warmth. “Not a problem at all,” he reassured. “We’re happy to have her.”
Relief flooded Martin’s features as the tension seeped from his shoulders. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
Pivoting, I crossed to the front desk to begin checking them in. My fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the cabin assignments. “Let me just grab your keys, Martin.”
“Actually…” Leo’s voice brought my movements to a halt. I glanced over to find him regarding me with an apologetic look. “I didn’t reserve Martin a separate cabin. I was thinking he could just bunk with me, so we have more vacancies for other guests.”
My brow furrowed as I rapidly recalculated logistics. The cabins all varied in size, Leo’s included. “Your place has four bedrooms, right? So Martin and Mel could each take one?”
Ridge’s fingers found mine, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to go track down Ethan,” he murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. “Say hi and see if he wants some help.”
I managed a smile, grateful for his steady presence amidst the whirling chaos of arrivals and greetings. With a final brush of his calloused thumb over my knuckles, he slipped away, broad shoulders slicing through the milling crowd.
“I wanna go with Daddy!” Lily materialized at my elbow, garnet curls bouncing as she danced from foot-to-foot. She paused, solemn hazel eyes finding mine in silent question.
Bending, I cupped her cherub face in my palms with a reassuring smile. “Of course, sweetie.”
“Emma.” Leo’s deep baritone sliced through the noisy babble, demanding my attention. He gestured toward the entrance, mouth set in a grim line belying the twinkle still lingering in his eyes. “Mom wants to see you.”
A groan rumbled up my throat before I could bite it back. Of course she would insist on an audience after that awkward introduction to the weekend’s fresh arrivals. Rolling my shoulders to brace myself, I swept my gaze over the remaining cluster of familiar faces—Ridge’s brother James, Cody, Mel and her father Martin—and dipped my chin with an apologetic grimace. “Catch up with you all in a bit.”
With leaden steps, I traced the same path Ridge and Leo’s family had taken moments earlier. Dread coiled through my belly as the broad double doors swept into view, framing the slender, silver-coiffed figure of Miriam Calloway in intense conversation with another couple around her age. My spine stiffened as I registered the taut lines of displeasure etched into her elegant features.
And then a hulking form shifted into my periphery vision and my breath stalled in my lungs.
Sheathed in an impeccably-tailored charcoal suit, the man could have been carved from stone for all his stillness. He was angles and hard planes, from the blade-like slashes of his cheekbones to his braced stance—feet planted shoulder-width apart as though awaiting the shock of an earthquake. Despite the lush heat hazing the entrance, his expression projected an almost preternatural chill, a sheet of arctic ice layering those harsh features into sneering disdain.
An involuntary shudder raked my frame as glacial eyes speared me in place. For an endless, viscous moment, the rest of the world faded to a silent, monochrome blur and all I could comprehend was the suffocating, slate-edged weight of that glare.
My mother’s lilting voice intruded then, a shrill crack in the sepulchral silence. “Emma, beta. So glad you could join us.”
The spell shattered like a vase hitting the pavement. I hitched my shoulders higher as I forced one stiff leg in front of the other. “You wanted to see me?”
Miriam beamed, so at odds with the tension coiling her perfectly-styled hair into wire. With a practiced flourish, she extended one slim, ring-laden hand—the very image of maternal pride and delight. “Yes, yes. This is Jayesh. The young man I told you about?”
My stomach plummeted in a sickening, zero-G swoop, even as my breath wedged in my throat like shards of glass.
The Arranged Marriage Guy.
Rayesh—no, Jayesh—straightened infinitesimally. His glower could have stripped varnish as he raked me from crown to toe and back again with a glacial, scathing sweep. The derision in his obsidian stare was palpable, crystallizing the very air between us.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Could only stare back, petrified, as the full, horrific reality crashed over me in waves.
Somehow, I found the strength to hitch my lips into a polite, plastique rictus. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”