Page 20 of The Mood Board

A glimmer in her eye told me that what had developed between them from there hadn’t been her career.

The event coordinator had left at one point, but she returned at that moment with a tray on which perched several glasses that clinked as she walked.

“I thought you might need these after your tour,” she said, and I couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or amused by Janelle’s ability to take over whatever was happening around her.

“Oh, perfect, thank you.” The redhead took one of the glasses off the tray and sat on a chaise lounge at the veranda’s edge. Liam did the same and followed. I hesitated, even as the event coordinator raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to take the last drink, the glass misty with condensation.

Part of me wished to tell Liam I needed to leave, that the tour had gone far, far over my lunch break. I wanted to run from the house, away from Janelle and my feelings about her. But he would know the truth because I had already told him I had scheduled the rest of the afternoon off so we could take our time.

“Thank you,” I murmured to the event planner, whose mouth had thinned to a line, and took the last glass.

It was iced tea, and I sipped at it as I made my way across the veranda, taking my place beside Liam on one of the lounges. It did give me a small swell of satisfaction when he edged closer and put his hand on my knee, his gaze on the incredible view of the valley and vineyard.

“This would be a perfect place for more pictures,” Janelle said.

I hated to agree with her observation, but she was right. Especially at sunset—I could see it now, the sun sinking low, turning everything golden, the view behind us.

“Mark had his fourth wedding right here, actually.” Janelle’s voice broke into my reverie, and I took another sip of my tea to hide the fact that I had been daydreaming.

“He did?” I asked politely.

But she wasn’t looking at me as she talked, her gaze on the distant hills.

“It was a lovely wedding, went on for days. I think the wedding lasted longer than the marriage.” Janelle let out a laugh, her head thrown back. I was glad she didn’t look at me because I didn’t laugh along with her.

Liam didn’t either, thank goodness.

As though she hadn’t gotten the response she had wanted, the redhead shifted so she was facing us. “So Bailey. I know all about Liam, but I don’t know much about you. What do you do?”

“I own an interior design firm,” I replied.

“She’s incredible,” Liam chimed in, giving my knee a squeeze as he flashed me a grin. “She was featured in a local magazine and designed all the homes for Hope’s House, our foundation I was telling you about.”

I tried not to blush at his profusion of proud compliments but failed.

“That’s wonderful. Quite an accomplishment.”

Janelle sounded sincere, but something about a flatness in her smile and eyes told me she wasn’t. And why would she be? After all her stories at dinner, a small business like mine run by a woman who had never left her hometown was nothing.

“I know an interior designer. Used to be, anyway,” she said.

“Oh? Who is it? Maybe I know them,” I asked, trying desperately to be polite.

Janelle’s hand, the one resting on her leg, twitched. But she lifted it and waved away my question. “I don’t think you would know them. They were big, at one point.”

“Oh.”

Her words stopped mine, and I felt a lump rise in my throat as Liam and Janelle continued to talk. I stopped listening, trying my hardest to remain outwardly calm. Had she meant to insult me? Not even Liam had caught the sharp point of what she had said.

By the time we were ready to leave and Janelle had spoken with the event coordinator about adding various things to our already agreed-upon deal, I was ready to burst into tears. She even managed to get us a discount, which made no sense to me—why would Liam, of all people, need a discount?

I smiled through the goodbyes and thank yous, though, trying to keep my inner turmoil from Liam, who had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. He had even enthusiastically agreed to some of Janelle’s ideas. I had not, instead smiling while I told them I would consider it. Liam knew what that meant—it was my polite way of telling someone I wasn’t interested—but Janelle hadn’t caught on yet. Even so, what was supposed to have been a beautiful afternoon with my fiancé had turned into this, though the redhead had proclaimed it a “success.”

As I drove away, the road blurring with tears, I wondered what terrible thing I had done in the past to have this woman enter my life.