in anything else. And then you come along and start making whiskey, and suddenly you have a whole operation going. An operation that Johnny’s interested enough to invest in. Maybe she sees that as him showing less interest in winemaking.”
“Which he isn’t.” Finn made the whiskey. It was damn good whiskey. Johnny just knew a good business investment when he saw one. It wasn’t like Johnny was in there making whiskey with him. If there was one thing Finn knew about Johnny Bellini, it was that nothing could ever tear him away from making wine. It was in his blood and that would never change.
“Give her some time,” Owen said. “She’ll figure it out on her own.”
“I guess. I just wish she’d talk to me.”
“The Bellini women have always been quick to anger,” Jason said. “But also quick to forgive and forget. Like Owen said, just give her some time to cool down and think things over.”
He thought about what the guys had said all night, even as he drove by the main house on the way to his own. The house was dark except for one light, which he knew was from Brenna’s room.
He ached to see her, to hold her, to just talk to her so he could figure out how she felt.
But not tonight. He’d give her that time and space that the guys had talked about, and when she was ready, she could come and talk to him.
CHAPTER
• • • • • •
twenty
BRENNA WAS WORRIED.
Finn hadn’t shown up at breakfast that morning. Or lunch. Typically he didn’t miss a meal that Louise cooked. And now her parents were giving her the side-eye like she had done something wrong.
Which she had, of course, but she wasn’t going to tell them that.
She busied herself with work all day, but thoughts of Finn crept in anyway. As she walked from the house to the wine cellar, she thought maybe she’d catch sight of Finn working outside somewhere. Unfortunately, she didn’t, which only made her stomach knot up even more.
She needed to talk to her dad, clear her head of all that was rolling around inside it.
She found him outside checking grapes. It was eight million degrees out so she grabbed a floppy hat, put on her sunscreen and walked out there, taking time to review the grapes in the aisle where her dad was located. They were plump and ready to pick. Brenna should have been filled with joy about that, but right now all she felt was miserable.
“Hey, Dad.”
“The grapes, they look good, eh?”
“They do. Can I ask you a question?”
“Si.” He continued to walk, so she walked with him.
“Why did you invest in Finn’s whiskey-making project?”
He stopped and turned to her with a curious look on his face. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s fine Irish whiskey, he knows what he’s doing and the family might someday branch out and sell it, with Finn’s permission. I discussed it with your mother, who agreed with me. It’s a sound business investment.”
When he put it like that, her entire blowup with Finn made her feel childish and petty. “Of course.”
“Plus, I love the boy like my own. Why wouldn’t we want to encourage his success? Especially with something he’s good at?”
And now she felt even worse.
“Oh, sure. That makes sense.”
She walked with him for a bit more, then made her escape, fleeing to the house, hiding out in her office with the worst feeling of guilt and dread sitting like a boulder in her stomach.
After wrapping up work for the day, she went to her room to clean up and change clothes, then headed to the kitchen.
Louise had made chicken and rice with asparagus for dinner, so she asked her to package up two servings, which Louise did with a knowing smile. Brenna ducked out the back door and made her way to Finn’s place, not sure what kind of reception she was going to get, or if he’d even be there. But she had to try.
Finn wasn’t outside, but his truck was there, which meant he was home—a good sign. She knocked on the door and Murphy barked.
No one answered.
Hmm.
She knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.
Was he okay? She hadn’t seen him today. Maybe he was sick. She tried the door handle and the door opened, so she walked inside.
Murphy greeted her with his tail swooshing furiously back and forth, so she bent to brush her hand over the top of his head.
“Hey, Murph. Where’s your daddy? Is