The Prodigal Son. Beth Andrews
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his head as he slowly took in the large room. A room he’d managed to avoid since his father’s death.
But why did it look exactly as it had when Tom was still alive? Same dark colors, oppressive furniture and—he narrowed his eyes—was that…yeah…same ugly bronze frog on the bottom shelf of the built-in bookcase.
“I hate this room,” he muttered.
“How can you hate a room?” Aidan asked as he continued to work on a financial report or inventory sheet or some such mind-numbingly boring item.
“If I ever end up behind that desk, do me a favor and just shoot me.”
He did hate this room. Not just the decorating, although if he ever got stuck playing desk jockey, he wanted a space that was all his. Not someone else’s leftovers. No, what he really hated about his father’s office was that stepping into the room was like stepping back in time. He couldn’t count the number of times his father had called him in here only to rip him up one side and down the other. Hell, he’d spent most of his teenage years slouched in the leather chair across from the desk, forced to listen to his old man lecture about responsibility, making good choices and the importance of doing his best no matter what the situation.
All important lessons, Matt acknowledged grudgingly. And ones he deserved to hear, just as he probably deserved most of the punishments his father had doled out in response to his youngest son’s wild ways.
Then again, maybe if Tom hadn’t been such a hard-ass, Matt wouldn’t have rebelled so much.
Aidan finally set his mechanical pencil down. “Don’t tell me, you hate that chair, too.” When Matt raised an eyebrow, Aidan continued, “You look like you’re ready to rip it apart with your teeth.”
That was why he’d avoided this room ever since his dad died. It was too full of memories. And memories only caused problems. Better to focus on the present. And the current hell he was living through.
“We need to discuss this…situation we’re in,” Matt said, keeping his tone neutral.
“I take it you’re referring to our conversation earlier, the one that caused you to take off like the devil himself was riding your ass.”
He’d rather deal with the devil. Old Satan had nothing on Aidan Sheppard. “I needed some fresh air. Time to clear my head. I went back to the cottage but you’d already left.”
Aidan leaned back in his chair. “Once again, I’m working. Some of us can’t get by logging in twenty hours a week then heading off to climb some mountain or jump off a cliff.”
He wished his brother would jump off a cliff. Preferably without a bungee cord. So what if he took time off now and again? Life was an adventure. One he planned on getting the most out of.
Matt shoved his hands into his pockets and walked to the window to stare out over the backyard. But that didn’t mean he didn’t take his jobs seriously. His family had no idea what his life was really like. Up at 4:00 a.m., logging up to eighty hours a week in order to help the wineries who hired him produce the best wines possible.
“I realize your time is valuable—more so than that of us mere working stiffs,” Matt said, “but I’d think you could spare a few minutes to discuss the future of the Diamond Dust.” He faced his brother, leaning back against the wall. “What’s Mom trying to prove?”
“You’d have to ask her.”
“I did. She admitted she’s doing this for Dad. I bet he put some stipulation in his will so this would happen.” Matt wouldn’t put it past the old man. Even dead he was trying to run Matt’s life.
“He didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I, unlike you or Brady, was actually there for the reading of Dad’s will,” Aidan said. “Trust me, this is all Mom’s idea.”
Matt fisted his hands. The betrayal was like a punch to the chest. Why would she do this to him? They’d always been close. She’d been the one person he could count on to see the real him. She’d known, better than anyone, how badly he’d wanted to escape Jewell. How he’d wanted nothing more than to go out and make something of himself. Something important.
He crossed to the leather sofa against the opposite wall. Guess her reasons didn’t really matter. Not when all he could do now was deal with this situation.
“So what’s it going to be?” Aidan asked.
Matt lay down, propping his feet on the armrest. “I need time to think it through.”
“We don’t have time. Mom wants our decision today.”
“Yeah, she told me. Eight hours to decide my entire future? How generous.”
“Suck it up. Some of us only got five minutes.”
True. Aidan had to drop out of law school and move back to Jewell to take over the Diamond Dust when their father passed away. And Brady’s plans had been altered when he’d lost his fiancée to some other guy and his career to an injury sustained in Afghanistan. Both Aidan’s and Brady’s futures had taken turns neither had expected, but that didn’t make the possible annihilation of his own plans any easier to swallow. Especially since they both seemed to be doing fine now.
“Well, since I do have eight hours, I’m going to take them. I’ll let you know my decision then.” Maybe he could talk his mother out of this insane idea before tonight. Or at least get her to agree to let him be a partner in name only. There had to be a way out of this.
His jet lag catching up to him, he linked his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes. It wasn’t much time and he had a lot to think about. Damn it, he had plans. Commitments. His reputation as a world-class vintner was growing—the proof was his contract with Queen’s Valley.
But as much as he didn’t want to be in Jewell, he also didn’t want to see his father’s business sold to some stranger.
More than that, he didn’t want to let his brothers down.
And he’d French-kiss Aidan’s dog before he admitted that out loud.
He yawned. His brothers might think he slid by in life, but the truth was, he’d busted his ass building his reputation as a winemaker. He wasn’t afraid of hard work, and along the way he’d learned from some of the best experts in the world how to run a winery.
He just didn’t want to use that knowledge to run the Diamond Dust.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Matt’s eyes flew open at the husky feminine voice. Too bad he wasn’t the one being propositioned. Which was probably a good thing, he realized, as Connie Henkel walked past him without so much as a glance.
She was long and lean with sharp features, and her dark hair was cut shorter than his, with messy layers on top and wisps around her ears. She didn’t wear jewelry or makeup, and in her usual uniform of faded jeans and a T-shirt, if you didn’t take the time to look carefully, she could’ve passed for a teenage boy.
One side of his mouth kicked up. Luckily, Matt always looked carefully. So he noticed the subtle curve of her hips, the slight rise and fall of her small breasts, the feminine arch of her dark brows.
He noticed, he just didn’t linger.
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered,” Aidan said, “or terrified.”
Connie winced. “First of all…eww. You’re like the brother I never had and never particularly wanted. And second of all, if you were that lucky, you wouldn’t be terrified. You’d be grateful.”
Quietly sitting up, Matt couldn’t help but grin. He’d always enjoyed Connie’s smart-ass ways. “I’d sure begrateful if it was me.” He winked at her. “And believe me, so would you.”
Connie didn’t move. Her face was