Serves Me Wright (Wright #9) - K.A. Linde Page 0,4
out of his office, and we went back toward the barn.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I second-guessed whether or not I should dive into his business. Curiosity ended up getting the better of me. “Have you been dealing with a lot of Ashleigh?”
He breathed out heavily. “Well, sort of. She didn’t take our breakup well. Mostly she’s mad that she got caught and thinks that if she pushes enough, I’ll bend to her will.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
He flashed me a smile. “It doesn’t, does it? Stubbornness runs in my family.”
“Sure does.”
He nudged me. “Hey!”
“What? Sutton is one of my best friends. I’ve seen Wright stubbornness way up close.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t matter how much Ashleigh hounds me; we’re not getting back together.”
“I’d think not after what she did.”
“Never pegged you as a grudge-holder, Gibson.”
I flushed at the use of my last name. “I’m not. But she didn’t just hurt you, she tried to force you into her mold and hurt the winery, too. I’m kind of attached to it, to be honest.”
“Me or the vineyard?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
I covered my blush with a laugh. “The vineyard!”
“Likely story.”
Our eyes met, and we both broke down into laughter. As much as I wanted something with Julian, the main reason I’d never gone for it was because of what was happening right here between us. I was into him, but I valued his friendship more. I wouldn’t risk losing this easiness between us to shoot for more.
I pulled my camera up and snapped a picture of him.
“Hey!”
I took another.
“What are you doing?”
“I won’t miss getting a real Julian smile.”
“Let me see,” he said, coming around to stand next to me.
I pulled the back of the camera up and flipped through the pictures I’d taken. This was the one thing I wasn’t self-conscious about. My pictures were good. I was certain of that. I loved photography, and I did it constantly. All those weddings had really honed my craft. I wasn’t like our friend Blaire, who was a legitimate social media influencer with a million followers, but I had a good thirty thousand–plus people following my photography. I’d been featured in wedding magazines and won contests for my work. This was my passion.
“Jesus Christ, Jen,” he breathed. “How the fuck do you do this?”
“Talent,” I teased.
He nodded his head. “Absolutely. I’m so glad that we convinced you to work here. Couldn’t have been easy, giving up all the traveling.”
“Well, it was, and it wasn’t,” I told him. “I like that I can be picky now, and as I said, I’m already attached to the place.”
His smile was bright. “Could you send me this one?” He pointed at the picture I’d captured of the real him—charming and laughing Julian Wright. Exactly how I saw him. “I’d like to put it on the website.”
“Definitely. That’s what I’m here for.”
We continued up the walk until we nearly reached the barn. I could hear the concert had already started and winced. I was supposed to be there for that.
We stepped inside to the backstage. It was loud from the show. Sutton was standing off to the side, watching the show. A group of the production crew was buzzing around. Hollin was speaking to the new manager, Alejandra. Jordan was sitting at a table with Annie in his lap. And someone else was standing before us that I’d never seen before.
Julian stiffened next to me. His eyes widened.
“Dad?” Julian gasped.
3
Julian
My father was standing in front of me.
In Lubbock, Texas.
Not in Vancouver, where he lived and where I’d moved from. This wasn’t a call, text, or email, like he’d been trying to reach me and I’d been ignoring him. I hadn’t seen him in almost four years. He’d asked us to stay, knowing we never would, and then I’d said good-bye. I’d meant it forever. What was he doing here?
I didn’t want to have to deal with this. It was bad enough that I already had to deal with Ashleigh today, but Ashleigh and my father in one day? Fuck.
“Hello, son,” my dad said.
Son. I recoiled from that word. The years of idolization and then the complete shattering of everything that I’d worshipped in him.
I pulled myself together. I couldn’t be the same person I’d been when my dad fucked up all of our lives. I couldn’t cower and hope that Jordan would take care of it. Like he always did. I had to handle it on my own.