Wyatt laughed, a big and hearty one that almost didn’t look right on him. Jace realized he hadn’t seen Wy laugh like that since they were teenagers. “I admire your selflessness. But you would be the worst assistant ever.”
Jace couldn’t help but grin. “What? I can type.”
“Look, bro, I know things haven’t been great between us for a while. But the only reason I get pissy with you is because I’m damn jealous sometimes.”
Jace smirked. “Right, jealous of me.”
“Yes, of you, smartass. You’re the free spirit of the family. The one who shoots the bird at every rule and expectation and does your own thing. The guy who the girls wanted and the boys wanted to be friends with.” His expression turned serious. “I don’t want Dad to break you of that.”
Jace blinked and stared at Wyatt as if he were seeing his brother for the first time. How had he never noticed how isolated and overworked his brother had become? While Jace had been busy finding every way he could rebel, Wy had been left with the burden of shouldering all of their father’s highest expectations.
“Wy, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t let Diana release the information she has.”
His brother crossed his arms. “How much does she want?”
“Half a million.”
“It’ll be in your account tomorrow with an extra hundred grand to put toward your store.”
Jace stood, waving him off. “No, dude. I can’t take your money. It’s not your place.”
“Pay me back when the store expands,” Wyatt said, standing as well. “I’ll consider this an investment in a good business.”
Jace couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Wyatt was going to trust him with that much money? Just like that. And put money into Jace’s business? “You want to invest in Wicked? Have you ever even been in a store like mine before?”
Wyatt’s smile was droll. “I don’t date a lot. But I’m not dead, moron.”
Jace raised his palms. “Sorry, big brother. I wasn’t sure if you’d lost your V-card yet.”
Wyatt punched Jace’s shoulder. “Fucker.”
Jace stuck out his hand. “No, but seriously, man. This is . . . Well, just thank you. Really. It means more than you know.”
Wyatt took Jace’s hand in a firm shake, then pulled him in for a gruff hug. “Happy to help. Now get your ass out of here before Dad catches your scent like a dog on the hunt.”
Jace stepped back. “I’ll find a way to repay you. Not just the money but the favor.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I already have something in mind.” Jace turned and headed out the door, hiding a smile. Once everything settled down, Mr. Workaholic was getting a first-class ticket to a nice big ranch outside the city limits.
Because Jace wouldn’t need his own membership anymore.
Being there without Evan was a form of torture he refused to sign up for.
TWENTY-NINE
Evan leaned against the trunk of an ancient oak tree as she scanned through the photos she’d taken of the vineyards. The little digital camera wouldn’t have been her equipment of choice, but she hadn’t thought to pack one of her own cameras when she’d left the house.
Grant had asked her to take some pictures for a new brochure he was developing for the official winery side of his property. Apparently, in his free time he offered tours and tastings for the public. He’d given her his camera to use even though she’d protested that she’d never get good enough shots with it.
He’d told her to take some test photos to give him an idea of what she could do. Evan suspected he was just being kind and giving her something to focus on while she was holed up at his place. But she’d done the work nonetheless. And it had distracted her. For a while.
But she knew she’d have to head back to town soon. She’d read the Internet stories over the weekend. The cheating scandal had broken and the press was not being kind to her. It didn’t help that Daniel was playing the role of the poor, wronged fiancé a little too convincingly. The media had heaped praise and sympathy on top him like he was some sort of self-help sundae.
He’d called her a number of times, but she couldn’t tolerate talking to him yet. She’d texted him that she was somewhere safe and she’d be home soon. Maybe once her medication kicked in more she could walk back into his house and play fiancée without wanting to either sob or punch someone in the face. Right now, she was still too raw.
She hit the delete button on a few shots that had captured too much of the late-afternoon sun and had thrown off the lighting. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she accidentally deleted a photo she’d wanted to keep.