Best Man for the Bridesmaid

No, the best thing he could do for both of them was to back away. He’d been wrong to get so invested in this wedding. He might be the groom’s brother and best man, but he didn’t do wedding planning. By now Jules should know how to get into the city on her own and with all the electronic wizardry on her phone, she’d find her way around.

Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d back out of this wedding froufrou and submerge himself in work. After all, there was a tour and wine-tasting event on the calendar. He could think of ways to expand it, perhaps by adding some tales from his family’s colorful history. He didn’t have anything specific in mind, but he’d think on it.

He’d just neared the house when Jules stepped outside. His thoughts screeched to a halt as he took in her appearance. Her very different appearance. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

She was wearing a pale blue cotton dress. It was short, just above the knee, and the skirt flared out a bit. The waist was snug and hinted at her curves. Her very fine curves. He struggled to keep his mouth from gaping open. His gaze traveled up over the white stripes of the bodice and stopped at her bare shoulders and arms. The only things holding up that scrap of a dress were two thin straps. A lump formed in his throat.

She smiled at him, and the whole world seemed to glow. “Do you like my new purchase?”

“It’s um...very nice.” He forced his gaze to meet hers.

“Walk with me.”

Her request wasn’t a question, but rather a honeyed command—one he wasn’t about to disobey. She passed by him, and all he could do was stare. It was then that he noticed her hair. There were no ponytails. Instead her dark wavy hair was loose and flowing down her back. What in the world? She’d never worn it like that before, but he certainly approved.

He took long strides to catch up to her. “Where are we going?”

“To the barn. I still haven’t seen it, and I thought...well, I hoped that you might have a few minutes to show me around.”

She wanted to see the winery? And she wanted him to show her around? What could it hurt? Maybe this would be a good prelude to him letting her know that he’d changed his mind about working on the wedding planning with her.

“Sure. Is there anything in particular that you want to see?”

Her sun-kissed shoulders rose and fell. “Whatever you want to show me will be fine.”

She was actually interested in his work—in his heritage. That was an area where Gianna had never showed any interest. The only thing that she had to say about the vineyard was that it took up all his time and that it kept them from moving to the city. He hadn’t realized when they’d married that she expected a different sort of life. He figured that marrying a local girl would ensure that they both wanted a quiet way of life. He’d been so wrong.

He gave Jules the grand tour, starting at the office, and then they moved on to the processing room, where during the harvest the grapes were hand sorted. He showed her the barrel room where the wine was aged. The tour concluded in the spacious wine-tasting room with its long, thin table for the guests.

“We should head back for lunch.” He guided her outside.

“Thank you for the personal tour. I really enjoyed it. I’m just sorry I’ll miss seeing all of the activity during the harvest.”

“You always have an open invitation to return anytime.”

She peered deeply into his eyes, and his heart thumped hard and fast. When she glanced away, her butterfly tattoo caught his attention. Just the tips of the wings peeked out of the dress’s neckline. He longed to see all of it. He’d never seen anything so captivating. A struggle warred within him—common sense versus his raging testosterone. And the testosterone was taking the lead.

Jules turned away and started to walk. “This estate is so big. You certainly don’t have to worry about bothering any of your neighbors.”

The land was the last thing on his mind, but he struggled to make intelligent conversation. “Over the generations, it has grown. Buying more of the surrounding properties was a priority.”

“Are you still looking into expanding?”

“If the opportunity presents itself, sure. But it isn’t my focus.” His only interest now was finding out if her lips were as sweet as the finest brachetto grape.

“What is your priority?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that it was her—that making her deliriously happy was his priority. But he bit back the ridiculous words before he could utter them. What in the world was getting into him?

He cleared his throat as he searched for a reasonable answer. “The quality of the wine. And broadening our interaction with the public.”