Sometimes, I really despise being a part of such a traditional family.

“I’m not going to Italy,” I say vehemently. She needs to know that suggestion can’t even make its way onto the table.

“Fine. Break up with him. Find something else to do. Go work with Gina at the hotel. You need to do something. Unless you have no problem living here with us for the rest of your life, unmarried and miserable.”

“Are you living in the stone ages? What in the world is wrong with you?” I stand, glaring down at her. “You act like my being single and jobless is a kiss of death!”

She stares up at me pointedly, not saying a word.

She doesn’t have to. I heard what I said. And it’s slowly sinking in that yes, indeed, being single and jobless is the kiss of death.

For me.

Yet again, proving how life can change in an instant. I’ve gone from bad to fabulous to absolutely terrible.

All in the matter of approximately four weeks.


Gage

“I LOVE AUTUMN Harvest.” Ivy sighs, scrolling through the photos of the bakery I just uploaded on my laptop from my phone. “But we can definitely spruce it up for her. I’m almost finished with Matt’s job and have something lined up right after it, but I can do this on the side. The bakery and café already have good bones, so it won’t be too difficult. I can put something together quick.”

“I don’t want some slapped-together job, Ivy,” I warn her, scrolling through the photos of the bakery that’s so much a part of Marina, I can’t imagine her not working there.

The bakery I now own. The building I’m going to give her as a gift.

Right before I ask her to marry me.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this.” Ivy smiles at me, slowly shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see you fall, Gage. You were such a jackass about Archer and me getting together. And now look at you.”

“Hey, I was trying to protect you. I know how Archer is. Was,” I correct when she sends me a pointed look.

“And I know how you were. A workaholic stick-in-the-mud who only found pleasure with the many cars you purchased.”

Jesus. She makes me sound like a total loser. “Thanks a lot,” I mutter.

She nudges me. “I only say that because I’m your sister, and I can be brutally honest.” Pausing, Ivy contemplates me. “Can I tell you something else?”

“Can I handle it?” I ask warily.

“Oh yeah.” She smiles, her eyes going soft, almost misty. She’s so damn sentimental lately, I don’t know what’s wrong with her. “Marina is so good for you. And you’re good for her. I love seeing the two of you together. I’m so excited. And thankful I like her.”

“Yeah?” An ache forms in my chest, making me grab my sister and pull her in for a hug. “Thanks, Ive. It means a lot to have your approval.”

“You’re welcome.” She pulls away from me, pressing her hand against the side of my head. Her eyes are swimming with tears. “I’m so glad I get along with Marina. She’s going to make a great sister-in-law.”

“Why are you crying?” I catch a tear with my thumb as it slides down her cheek, worry consuming me. My sister doesn’t cry much. She doesn’t have reason to cry. Archer keeps her too damn happy for her to ever be sad.

“Don’t worry about me.” She waves a hand, sniffing loudly. “I’m just pregnant.”

“What the hell?” I stare at her, overcome with . . . all sorts of overwhelming emotions. Happiness. Shock. And plenty of murderous thoughts because holy hell, Archer impregnated my sister? I could kill him.

“Stop looking like you want to kill Archer.” Reaching out, she grabs my hands, clasping them tightly in her own. “This is a good thing. We’re going to have a baby.” She sniffs, the tears streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I’m so ha-happy.”

“You don’t look or sound happy to me. Jesus, Ive, you’re not even married yet! Mom’s gonna have a cow.”

Ivy burst out laughing, looking like a hysterical mess. Mascara-streaked tears line her face as she laughs. “You sound just like you did when we were kids.”

“Well, it’s true. She’s going to flip. She’s been working on your wedding for months.” Years, probably, not that I’m going to say it. Our mom’s been living for this moment and now Ivy’s going to waddle down the aisle with a big ol’ belly?

Yeah. That’ll go over real well.

“We’re bumping the wedding date up a few months. Mom already knows. So does Dad,” she says.

“And Archer?”

Ivy rolls her eyes. “Of course, he knows. What, you think I’d leave the father of my baby as the last to know? I don’t think so.”

“No, you leave that honor to the uncle of your baby.” I smooth her hair out of her eyes, feeling overprotective of my baby sister . . . who’s going to have a baby. Holy hell, this is crazy.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk, and you’ve been so busy.” She grabs hold of my arm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t tell Marina. I want to tell her, but I couldn’t tell her if you didn’t know.”

I hug her again because I can’t resist, kissing her forehead. “I’m so happy for you, Ive. Even happy for that bastard you’re going to marry. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do.” She smiles as she withdraws from my embrace. “No regrets. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

I hope someday I can make Marina half as happy as Archer makes my sister.


I LEFT ARCHER and Ivy’s house to head back to St. Helena and the bakery. I’ve been planning this surprise for Marina for weeks, in the midst of taking over the properties her family sold to me. I kept that from her too, despite Archer’s incessant nagging that I was making a huge mistake.

But it wasn’t because I’m trying to hurt her or close down the bakery without her knowledge. This is my gift to her, ensuring the bakery stays within her family, where it belongs. I’ve already started the process and the paperwork’s being drawn up. I plan on eventually handing over the deed for the bakery to her.

Now I gotta figure out how to make this surprise announcement to her without freaking her completely out. I can’t make too big of a deal about it. I need to tell Gina too. Ivy’s in on it because she can’t wait to help redesign the interior, her services free of charge, a gift to both me and Marina.

Marina’s going to love it. So is Gina. Archer, not so much, because he’s trying to steal Gina away from Marina every chance he can get.

Such a greedy jackass, though I can relate.

I enter the bakery, the familiar, delicious scent of bread baking hitting my senses, making my stomach rumble despite not really being hungry. I wave to Eli at the counter and head into the kitchen where I find Gina shedding her apron and hanging it on a wall hook.

“Well, well, look who the cat dragged in.” She tsks and shakes her head. “How you doing, Pretty Boy?”

Thank God I’ve been upgraded from Boy Toy. She still calls Archer Rat Boy, which he deserves. “I’m great. Where’s Marina?”

“Not in. She went home earlier, said she didn’t feel well.”

I frown. She never let me know. “Is she all right?” I’m extra sensitive, I guess, because of my sister’s major announcement, and I wonder: What would that be like, being with Marina? Getting her pregnant, watching her body shift and change, her belly full of my baby?

That strange ache seems to strangle my heart again, and I rub at my chest absently, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

You’re in love, you idiot. You’d do anything for that woman constantly in your thoughts.

“I’ll call her,” I say, watching as Gina gathers her purse from the closet she keeps it in and her sweater. “Mind if I go hang out in her office for a bit so I can call her in there?” I’m going to grab a few old brochures I know she keeps stashed in her bookshelf and give them to a marketing specialist I’ve worked with in the past. I plan on having some new materials created, along with a new logo.

Oh yeah, I have lots of plans. And all of them are going to blow Marina’s mind. Make her love me that much more.

I wander into her office, searching her tiny bookshelf, plucking first one, then a few other old advertising pieces I can find. Two brochures, a couple of postcards, all of it’s good to show the graphic designer.

Sitting behind her desk, I call her on my cell but get no answer. Send her a text asking if she’s feeling okay, but again, no reply. Grabbing the brochures, I stack them neatly atop the desk, the edge of the cardstock nudging her mouse, and her monitor lights up, the security business site I know she uses at the bakery coming up on screen.

Squinting, I look at the black and white, slightly fuzzy image, noticing that it’s a man, bent over . . . a woman? I see that the image is paused; this is actual footage taken within the bakery, and when I hit play, it all becomes too clear what I’m looking at.

That’s me. And Marina. Having sex in the kitchen that first night we attacked each other.

I run a hand through my hair, glancing around like someone’s going to walk up on me at any minute and discover what I’m looking at. I’m completely blown away. I can’t believe Marina’s kept this on her computer for . . . what? Her viewing pleasure? It happened over a month ago. We’ve had plenty of sex since then. Better sex, infinitely more satisfying sex. Every time we come together, it’s better and better between us. We’re lucky.

And now I’m . . . shocked, seeing us on her computer screen, me pounding inside of her, her head thrown back, her long legs wound tight around me as she clutches my shoulders with her hands. There’s no sound, but I don’t need to hear it to remember. She’s panting hot, encouraging words, and I’m sliding so deep inside her I groan her name, ready to give in to the urge and let my orgasm take over.

Damn. It’s sort of hot, seeing us together like this. Maybe I can understand why she kept it, but still. She should’ve let me see this. At the very least told me about it. I hit pause, catching her at a particularly good angle. The expression on her face tells me she’s pretty damn close to orgasm.

I really like seeing that expression on her face, but live and in person. Not on a video I happen to discover hidden away on her computer. Why would she keep it? Was she hoping to somehow use it against me if I did her wrong? I’ve gone out with vindictive women before. Women out to get me before I got them, always on the defense when I never thought that way in the first place.

“What are you doing?”

I glance up to find Marina standing just inside her office, her eyes bloodshot, her expression tight. She looks terrible.

So, so sad.

Pushing away from her desk, I go to her, but she dodges me at the last minute. “What happened? Are you okay?” I ask, worry consuming me. She’s acting odd. “Gina said you went home because you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine. Really.” She runs a hand over her head, messing up her hair rather than fixing it. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t quite know what to do with me. “I had a headache. So I went home. Had an interesting conversation with my mother too. Let me tell you, it didn’t help with my headache whatsoever. I’d say after her news, it’s even worse. I had to get out of there, so I came back here.”

My heart skips over itself. Shit. “What did you two talk about?” I ask, afraid to hear her answer.

“Oh, you know. She’s worried I’m going to die a bitter, single, jobless old woman.” One delicate brow rises and I know exactly what she’s referring to.

Double shit. This is not the way I wanted her to find out.

“Marina,” I start, and she holds up her hand, silencing me.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she says quietly, her expression flat, her eyes dim. “Tell me the truth. When were you going to let me know huh, Gage? When?”

She knows. I’d asked her father to keep it a secret so I could tell her she’s not losing the bakery and I withheld the information too long. Now she’s pissed. “It’s not what you think—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Then what am I supposed to think? I don’t understand how you can keep something so incredibly important from me. Who are you? Why would you do this? The bakery closing changes everything, my entire life! I’ll have nothing. No job, no nothing. All because of you.” She rushes toward me, shoving at my chest so hard I take a step back, shocked at the force behind her push. “You’re evil.”

Wait. Her dad didn’t tell her about the bakery. This is even worse. She thinks I’m trying to shut her down. “Marina—”