The Best Man Plan

date except the venue here at the vineyard, of course. He couldn’t have gotten his cold feet six months ago?”
At Erin’s stricken look, Brenna added, “Or, never? I mean, who wouldn’t want to marry you? You’re beautiful and talented and smart and any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“Damn right he would,” her mother added.
Erin didn’t understand it. As her mother and sisters talked amongst themselves, she turned to face the window, looking out over the vineyards, rows and rows of grapes growing, promising a prosperous future.
She sighed and went over the past year in her head. Owen had proposed in his apartment. She hadn’t been too surprised because they’d talked about marriage for a year. They’d planned the wedding. Everything had seemed fine.
And sure, she’d been preoccupied with her work here at Red Moss Vineyards, plus all the wedding planning, but Owen had been equally engaged with his work. They were both successful in their jobs. Owen had started up a craft brewery in Oklahoma City. Erin handled the business aspect of the family winery. They were both super busy but they made time for each other.
They’d known each other since they were kids. They’d been in love, dammit. She rubbed her stomach, aching inside at the loss of the future they’d planned together.
She couldn’t pinpoint one time where warning bells had clanged in her head, where she might have stopped and thought that maybe he was having second thoughts.
And now she had a wedding in two days and no groom. And no refunds at this late date, either.
Fury replaced the hurt, pure anger wrapping an icy wall around her shattered heart.
Well, screw that. And screw him, too.
She’d have her revenge. And a party to remember.
She pivoted to face her mother and sisters, lifting her chin in defiance. “We’re going to have the reception without him.”
Her mother shot her head up and stared at Erin. “What?”
“You heard me. Everything has already been paid for. Since we own the winery and the wedding venue, we have the spot reserved. We’ll never get our money back for anything else. So let’s throw one hell of a party here on my non-wedding day.”
Honor came over and put her arm around her. “Oh, honey, don’t you think that’s the last thing you’ll want on the day you were supposed to get married?”
“Maybe. But if he thinks I’m going to cancel, then spend that day crying over him, he’s wrong. Dead wrong.” Erin shrugged. “Let’s party our butts off on my non-wedding day. We’ll call it the Bellini spring party instead. What do you think?”
“I’m in,” Honor said. “Whatever you want, you get, as far as I’m concerned.”
Brenna nodded. “Agreed. It’s your day, Erin. You get to do whatever you want to do. I’m in, too. Mom?”
Their mother sighed. “Wait till your dad hears about this. I’m not convinced he won’t fly to Aruba and personally drag Owen back here to marry you.”
Erin lifted her chin. “I don’t want to ever see him again, let alone marry him.”
It took a few beats for her mother to answer. “Okay, then. We’ll throw the best party this venue has ever seen.”
And Erin would drown her heartbreak in the finest wine the Red Moss Vineyards produced.
It would be one hell of a party.
•   •   •   •   •   •
JASON CALLUM DROVE the dirt road like the fires of hell were on his heels.
He’d tried calling Owen’s number three times. Each time, his phone went directly to voice mail. Owen often turned his phone off when he was working back in the brewing area, but he knew for a fact that his best friend was off work for the next two weeks.
Jason glared at his phone. “Because you’re supposed to be getting married in two days, asshole.”
He tossed his phone on the console of his truck.
He should have never backed off three years ago when Owen said he wanted to ask Erin out.
Then again, it hadn’t been like Jason was going to do it. He and Erin had been friends since they were kids. Just friends.
You like her, dumbass. You’ve always liked her. You just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.
He gripped the steering wheel, trying to bite back the curse words that wanted to escape from his mouth.
This whole thing was his fault—indirectly, but still his fault.
Three years ago, Jason could have told Owen to back off, that he was interested in Erin. Instead, he’d told Owen to go for it and had swallowed the feelings he’d had for her himself.
Of course, he hadn’t realized how strong those feelings were until he’d had a front-row seat to watch Owen falling in love with Erin.
And who wouldn’t? She was strong-willed and smart and capable and beautiful and the way she laughed could instantly make a guy fall crazy in love.
So what the hell was Owen doing?
He turned down the long drive of the Red Moss Vineyards.
He hoped like hell he’d heard Erin wrong, that this was some kind of colossal mistake. Because his best friend wouldn’t do this to Erin, wouldn’t up and cancel the wedding with only two days to go. That just wasn’t Owen, and Jason knew him probably better than anyone.
He pulled the truck along the side of the main house and got out, brushing off dust and animal hair that clung to his worn jeans. He’d changed out of the boots that he’d been working in and slid into another pair so he wouldn’t track cow shit into the Bellinis’ house. He walked up the wide wood stairs and onto the oversized porch. He knew he didn’t have to knock. He’d known this family for as long as he could remember. He’d played out back with the Bellini girls when they were all kids.
He walked through the front door and followed the sound of Johnny Bellini’s booming voice, some of it in English and some in Italian.
“Dad, you’re not going to kill him,” Honor said.
“Bastardo. He disgraced my daughter. That is just not done.”
Erin rolled