Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

Even an idiot can deduce that’s probably not a good thing.

And when I look at each of the other pages for the previous years, it’s the same.

But before I can snoop any further, Memphis walks through the door.

“What are you doing?”

I click out of the spreadsheet and put the computer to sleep.

“Just finishing up sending out the hiring ads,” I reply, shocked at how level and cool I sound considering I feel like a spy.

Memphis nods, seemingly appeased, and then we swap spots as I slip out to the other side of the table and he takes a seat.

I eye the door, thinking I got away with my snooping and should bolt. But if something’s wrong with the vineyard …

Spinning to look back at Memphis, I decide to take the risky route instead.

“Hey, Memphis.”

“Hmm,” he replies, staring at his computer screen.

“How are things going? With the vineyard.”

At that, he looks back to me, his expression serious, then leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“What do you mean?”

I sort of regret asking now that I have his full attention, but I push on anyway.

“I mean … Is everything going okay? You mentioned something about keeping the vineyard out of bankruptcy the other day and I was just”—I shrug a shoulder—“wondering.”

There’s a tic in his jaw, and that’s when I realize his entire body looks tense and uncomfortable.

“Things are fine.”

That’s all he says, and I’ve never been less convinced.

But I decide not to push. I mean, if something was seriously wrong, there’s no way Memphis would keep it a secret. There has to be some kind of explanation—a wrong formula or something—in the spreadsheet.

I’m sure that’s it.

Or at least, I’m hoping that’s it.

My brother has already turned his attention back to his computer, so I turn to walk out the door.

“Hey, Murphy,” Memphis calls after me.

I spin, hope and worry both fluttering in my heart. Maybe he’ll actually talk to me. Share what’s really going on.

There’s a risk that comes along with that, though. If he tells me something is seriously wrong, it’s time to roll up my sleeves and help. Whatever it is. And part of me worries I’m still feeling too bitter. I came here because I need a soft-ish place to land, not because I wanted to invest myself fully into the family business again.

“Wes is heading to the Trager farm tomorrow to look at their supply and put in a recurring order for delivery. He needs some extra hands, but I can’t spare anyone from the vines. I need you to go with him.”

Whatever I was hoping Memphis would share isn’t the direction he goes at all. I let out a long sigh, my emotions pinging all over the map.

Of course that’s what Memphis would need me to do. Spend almost an entire day in the car with Wes—the man who is infuriatingly attractive and frustratingly closed off.

“Will that be a problem?”