Chapter One
THEN IT HAPPENED
Jessa
Rex and Chelsea’snew estate at Evergreen Lake stood out like a dream carved into reality for the nuptials of our friends Archer and Penny. A quartet played the bridal march under strings of golden lights wound through oak branches above. White chairs lined the lawn to the dock, the aisle draped chair to chair in ivory satin with arrangements of blush and red roses and creamy hydrangeas perfuming the air.
Sunset shimmered on the water like magic reflecting the final hues of summer. Penny floated down the aisle in creamy silk that caught the light; Archer Bellamy waited in a sand-colored linen suit, eyes locked on his bride, a single tear giving his emotions away. Beside him stood his twin Brooks, then Rex, Richard, and Keaton—all matching suits, all money and legacy rolled into one perfect bridal party.
For once I wasn’t behind the bar watching someone else’s fairy tale—they’dinvitedme. Jessa Cole. Bartender, problem-solver, honorary friend thanks to Sophie and Keaton Kingston. Sitting among them, sipping champagne, every second of it felt like I was trespassing into a better world.
Then I sawhim.
Two rows ahead, Griffin West sat. Light-blue linen jacket, crisp white shirt, platinum watch. Every inch expensive and tempting. My bartender instincts could read any man—but with him, every alarm went silent. No warnings. Only desperate desire.
He caught me staring and smiled, exactly like the first time he’d stepped into the Holly Creek Hops and stole my breath away. From the very first night, I’d never really recovered.
I sat in a daze, almost missing everything about the ceremony, like the golden retriever carrying the ring pillow on its back up the aisle, and the way Archer held baby Alexander while reciting vows of love and forever.
Everything was perfect, to an outsider like me looking in.
At the reception, guests were treated to a four-course meal held inside a huge white tent decorated with more flowers and lights, and with a hardwood floor to dance on. Eventually, I ditched the people I’d met at the singles table—those of us who had dared come without a plus one and had been put at a table at the rear of the seating chart.
I hid on the fringe near the bar, familiar territory from which I could observe everything. As all the pretty people passed me by, I recited polite hellos. At last, Griffin stood about twenty feet away, his posture amazing for a CEO and single father.
Would he dare talk to me when I was amonghispeople, when I wasn’t serving him Macallan and dishing out flirty conversation over a heavily lacquered brewery bar?
He knelt beside a boy who must be his son, going on excitedly about something while Griffin tied his shoe, with the patience a father had never afforded me. The kid laughed, shoulders shaking like Griffin had always done at my one-liner bar jokes. He trotted off to play with the other children.
Another man joined Griffin in conversation, tall and almost the spitting image of him. As if the world needed two men with the same striking good looks.
Then it happened.
Griffin stared right at me. I checked quickly behind me to be sure there was no one else in his line of sight. Nope, just me. My heart stuttered. The entire party blurred. Never had a man held this strong of a hold on me.
Sophie chose that exact moment to approach, startling me out of the brief trance. “You should get out from behind the bar more often.”
“Your husband makes the schedule. Tell him.” I smoothed my violet thrift-store maxi dress. Compared to me, her pink chiffon gown made her glow; pregnancy suited her—as did the fortune and love that came with her marriage to my boss.
I tried not to envy her friendly group of wives and mothers. Chelsea and Vivian were inspiring in the kitchen on TV in a cooking program they now produced together. Maisy and Sophie blazed trails in science and marketing. They each had stability on their own, apart from their husbands’ wealth.
I had bills, a fixer-upper house and run-down car—both beyond hope—plus an ailing mother, and two younger sisters depending on me.
“Who’s that with Griffin?” I asked her.
“Holden. One of my stepbrothers, the one who bought the ski resort in Steele Valley I told you about.”
“Another West? How many are there again?”
“Three more you haven’t met—Landon, Atlas, and Beck. And yes, they’re all gorgeous.” She eyed me knowingly. “Why don’t you go talk to Griffin?”
“Oh no. He’s with family.” I turned back toward the bar. “The ‘Say I Do Brew’ is selling well tonight. Keaton will be thrilled.”
“Don’t deflect. I’ve seen how Griffin talks to you when he visits at Hops now and then. You intrigue him.”
“Sure,” I muttered. “About as much as the IPA he prefers at the bar. Stop matchmaking, Soph.” I grinned despite myself right when two women casually approached the West men and engaged them in conversation.
How could I compete with the way they tossed their blown-out hair to the side, and their jeweled earrings shimmered in the light, or how the fabric of their gowns skimmed their bodies without a bulge in sight?
