Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

She slows down her chewing, but I can tell by her slightly narrowed eyes she doesn’t entirely buy it.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” she asks, confirming that I read her correctly. “I can’t imagine my brother missing a chance to paint me as the black sheep of our family.”

“Are you? The black sheep?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Depends on your perspective.”

“I’m interested in your perspective.”

Her eyes hold mine for a long moment before she answers.

“I don’t buy into the black-sheep theory,” she tells me. “It implies that one person’s faults and flaws are worse than another’s, when really it’s a matter of preference. Of taste, if you will. My brother, for example, is a bossy asshole who treats his siblings like employees. But he gets praised for that because he’s a man. I openly disagree with him about something, and I’m a handful.”

Something about my facial expression must give me away because Murphy lasers in on it and she almost laughs.

“He used that word to describe me, huh?”

I shrug my own shoulder this time, not wanting to throw Memphis under the bus.

“A handful is the most common. Intense is another. Aggressive. Bad-tempered. He likes to pick words that dance around how he really feels, things that are just enough to hint that I’m a problem without being intentionally cruel.”

“Sounds like you and your brother have quite a history if you’re able to describe him this specifically,” I finally reply.

It’s getting harder to stay neutral when I can see so clearly that the way Memphis talks about his sister wounds her deeply.

“I haven’t seen him in nine years. I’d just assumed he might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt before jumping to conclusions about who I am.”

I raise my eyebrows.

When he said his sister was moving home after living in Southern California for a few years, I hadn’t expected it to be nine years. That’s a hair bit more than a few.

I don’t really know how to respond, other than to encourage her to talk to her brother if she’s frustrated. But I’m not sure that’s the right move, for either of them. It assumes they have a healthy relationship where they feel safe while they’re being vulnerable.

And clearly, that’s not at all the kind of relationship they have.

I’m also not her therapist. Hell, we literally just met. I don’t need to be handing out any kind of advice.

“I’m sorry that things between you aren’t … easier,” I settle on. “Family relationships can be tough, no doubt.”

Her shoulders soften, and it looks like all the wind has fallen away from her sails.

“It’s been a long day and I’m beat, so …” She pauses, plucking another bonbon off the tray. “I’m gonna head to bed. I guess I’ll … see you around?”

I nod, letting my eyes wander a half second more to take a mental snapshot of her before she heads off down the hallway. I watch her until she disappears, and I realize I’ve done that twice now, almost like she’s a magnet and I can’t help but follow her presence.

Once she’s gone, I force her out of my thoughts and make quick work of putting Sarah’s treats back in the fridge. I leave through the french doors that lead from the living room to the veranda that spans the back of the house and offers an impressive view of the vineyard under the moonlight.

Taking a deep breath, I soak in the scents around me. The sea-salt air that rolls in with the evening fog. The jasmine vines sprinkled along the sides of the main house with their delicate pink blooms. The chaparral sage edging the stone pathway that snakes through the center of the property.

I’ve been wandering through the vineyard at night, enjoying the quiet. Tonight, though, my mind doesn’t jump to the same recurring problems that normally plague me.

The only thing plaguing me is Murphy. I can’t get my mind off her.

When I first saw her at the gas station, I’d been struck by her beauty. After I’d paid for my gas and emerged outside, I couldn’t not do something when I saw her crying.

But it was in our flirtatious exchanges that I felt hooked. I could feel a thread of connection between us almost immediately, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to just turn that off.

And that kiss was . . .