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Before her dad had disappeared into a wine bottle.
She’d never blamed him for his actions, but what if he had been there for her? Would Fox still have become the focus of her world?
More than one man she’d dated since college had accused her of putting the winery before them. One had even snapped, as he’d stalked out the door, “You’ll never find someone who’ll put up with your obsession.”
Obsession.She could still hear the ugliness in his tone. The idea that Fox was an obsession, instead of a passion, a place to hide from the world, had dug its claws into her and never fully let go.
Which was why, she reminded herself now, letting go of the possibility of owning Fox was a big step. One she should be proud of.
The flight attendant walked into the main cabin, her ebony hair curled to perfection and a perky smile on her face. She nodded to Adrian, who had hardly looked up from his laptop the entire flight, and stopped in front of Everleigh.
“We will be landing in just a few moments, Señorita Bradford,” she said in a musical voice. She leaned down and, before Everleigh could protest, buckled her seatbelt for her. “Please remain seated until we taxi in. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“Yes, th-thank you,” Everleigh managed to stutter.
Adrian didn’t even glance up, his eyes focused on the screen.
What had he been like as a child? Had he always been so serious? Or had something turned him from a happy boy into the intense, brooding beast he was today?
The plane touched down and within minutes Adrian had ushered her outside into the warm Spanish sunshine, onto the runway, and immediately into a stylish black limo without saying a word.
Patience.
They’d gotten off to a bad start, but she still had five weeks. A little over a month to wow him with her marketing skills and show him just how valuable she’d be as director.
Unlike the private jet, Everleigh had been in limos before. So she managed not to act like a girl from the country as she took in the full mini bar and polished custom wood trimming.
“Casa de Cabrera is half an hour from here, just outside of Granada,” Adrian said as the limo merged into traffic. “Once we arrive, our butler Diego will show you to your rooms.”
“Rooms?” Everleigh repeated. “As in plural?”
Adrian nodded briefly. “You’ll have a suite with a bedroom, a sitting room, a balcony and a private bathroom. Dinner is at seven-thirty in the main dining room, or you can dine in your own rooms if you prefer.”
Everleigh acknowledged his comment with a nod, and focused her attention once more on the view outside the window.
The city of Granada was stunning. Medieval-style buildings meshed with modern construction, creating a beautiful blend of past and present. Each side street they passed overflowed with plant life, from large purple flowers that tumbled over brick walls to trees dripping with oranges that begged to be plucked.
As they left the city and continued on toward the mountains, she spied the beige-tinted walls of the famed Alhambra palace and fortress, sprawled across a hilltop, partially obscured by a dense elm forest.
Maybe she would find a day or two to escape into the city and soak up the culture of the city.
Or at the very least escape the powerful presence of the man seated across from her who, despite her best intentions, continued to dominate her thoughts.
Adrian hit “Send” on his latest email before his eyes flickered to Everleigh. Her fury at his suggestion that she would sabotage the sale had seemed genuine. But the emotions clouding his normally excellent judgment made him even more suspicious.
Truth be told, she would be a good candidate to lead Fox. Her knowledge of the winery, her experience in branding and marketing, her relationships with the employees, would all help with the transition, and they might even retain Fox’s current clientele if a familiar face led the way.
But a decision of that magnitude required more than a one-minute pitch from a woman who had quite a temper on her. Although since their latest argument on the plane she’d been quiet. Her gaze had remained fixed out the window almost the entire drive. However, with each passing mile he’d noticed some of the tension easing from her shoulders. And the joy in her expression when she’d seen the flowering fields had unsettled him.
He looked out his own window and surveyed the fields. When had he last looked at the beauty of his home? So much of the time he was focused on his computer, on a call with his chief financial officer, on anything but the world right in front of him.
It reminded him of that last morning he’d sat with hisabuelaon her front porch, sipping tea and watching the sun rise. Funny how he could remember those details so clearly—the crisp scent of mint tea, the faint buzzing of bumblebees. She’d encouraged him to try talking to his mother once more. He’d brushed her comments aside.
That was when she’d asked him the question that still haunted him twenty-six years later.
“When will you trust yourself to love?”
The next morning his parents had come into his room—something they hadn’t done in years. His mother had kept her eyes trained on the floor. His father, with a hitch in his normally steady voice, had shared the fact that Abuela had passed away in her sleep.
