AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shrug, but my cheeks warm. “I’m just interested. Curious. It’s a beautiful love story with a tragic ending.”
“Yes, I’ve often compared us to Heathcliff and Catherine ofWuthering Heights. Tragedy on the moors.”
“Except on the western slope of Colorado,” I say.
“Yes.”
My heart goes out to Ennis. And to Patty as well, taken from her vibrant life at such a young age.
“Did you try to find out what happened to Patty?” Maddie asks. “Sean Murphy’s nephew tried nearly his whole life to figure out what happened to his uncle. We only just found out the truth.”
Ennis chuckles. “Sean Murphy. He was a character too. Hair almost as red as Patty’s. They even dated a bit before I knocked her off her feet.” He smiles. “And to answer your question, I tried for a while. I didn’t want to believe that she had left, which was the party line at that point. Brad helped. But there was no trace. Nothing. So I poured myself into my work.”
I smile. “Yeah. My brother Dale says you’re the reason the winery is so great.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Your uncle Ryan is truly gifted, and he took the business to places I couldn’t.”
“Yes, but you taught him.”
Ennis nods and closes his eyes. Then he rises, steadying himself on his cane. “I hope you don’t think me rude, but I’m quite fatigued.”
Brock stands. “Not at all. Like I said, we’ve got to get going ourselves. But we will see you tomorrow for tea then?”
“Yes, absolutely, and I’ll make sure I nap beforehand so I will be in much better spirits.”
As we leave Ennis’s beautiful home, all I can think about is his tragic love story.
He loved once and then lost.
And I fear my story will echo it.
Because there’s no one else on earth for me except Jesse Pike.
Chapter Thirty
Jesse
I wake the next morning in my private room next to Brock and Rory’s suite.
Seven o’clock.
I’m awakened by the alarm on my phone, which I wasn’t expecting.
Damn it, Rory.
But oh my God…
Finally.
FinallyI slept.
I followed Rory’s instructions to the letter. First, at the spa, I sat in the Jacuzzi for the hour before my massage. Then I lay on the massage table as skilled hands kneaded my sore muscles for an hour and a half.
I returned to my room, ordered room service for comfort food—a steak and fries—and then I ran myself a bath.
I hate baths. I still do.
But I did it, and once I was out and dried off, I slipped between the sheets of the king-sized bed, laid my head on the fluffy pillow, and the last thing I remember is the image of Brianna Steel’s deep brown, long-lashed eyes.
