I can see Matt out there, talking to the field manager, his hair gleaming in the sunlight, his white button-down stretched across his shoulders in the most appealing manner. “I’m going to hit up Ross or someplace,” I go on. “That’s more the price range I’m looking at for this.”

“You are so not going to Ross.” Ivy sighs, sounding completely bent out of shape. “I have a plan and you’re a part of it so you must come shopping with me. And I’m bringing a friend. You’ll adore her. She’s my brother’s girlfriend and she’s a total sweetheart.”

Great. I know Ivy’s brother Gage Emerson is a high-powered real estate hotshot who helped Matt find the winery in the first place. He’s rich and gorgeous. Just like Matt. Just like Ivy’s fiancé, Archer Bancroft.

And then there’s me, little ol’ Bryn James from Cactus, Texas who grew up in a doublewide and was dirt-poor my entire life. I shed my skin like the snakes that lived beneath our mobile home and started a new life. Here, in California, the Golden State.

Some of the gold’s become tarnished since I got here but it’s nothing a little polish can’t fix.

“Sounds—”

“Like your worst nightmare?” Ivy laughs while I sit there in shock. How did she know? “I like you, Bryn. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

“I do,” I say automatically, sounding like a robot.

Ivy laughs harder. “You just need to . . . loosen up. You’re too uptight. Do you have any friends? A boyfriend? Do you ever wear a color besides brown or tan?”

“Hey.” My feelings are hurt even though all Ivy’s saying is the truth. “I bought those bright tops at the Gap last month on your recommendation.”

“I know. And I’m proud of you for making the effort. But you need more color, Bryn. You’re so pretty—and don’t deny that you are because trust me, you so are. Let’s do your hair or take you for a makeover or something.” Ivy pauses. “Please? It’ll be my treat.”

“No way. Uh-uh. I don’t want your charity.” I turn away from the window and focus on my computer screen, my vision going blurry. Usually when someone wants to do something nice for you, they always expect something in return.

At least, that’s what always happens to me.

“It’s not charity, I promise. I just . . . I’ll explain everything to you on Saturday. We could all meet for lunch, I’ll tell you everything, and then we’ll shop around downtown. How does that sound?”

Like a nightmare. Like a handout. I should say no. I don’t want to feel beholden to anyone. Bad enough I feel that way toward my boss. I owe him so much and he hasn’t a clue.

I don’t want Ivy to feel like she has to take care of me either. So embarrassing.

“Just say yes, Bryn. Come on.” Ivy’s tone is cajoling, and I give in because I’m a weak suck, and I can’t help myself.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I have final say on everything, okay? All the shopping options and whatnot,” I tell her, my voice firm.

“Yay! You won’t regret this, I swear.” I can literally hear the excitement in her voice. Maybe this shopping excursion means more to her than I originally thought. “Oh, and Bryn?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Matt about this shopping trip okay?”

“Oookay.”

Well.

That was weird.

Bryn

WE MEET FOR lunch at Ivy’s friend’s place of business in downtown St. Helena. The Autumn Harvest Bakery and Café is super cute and super popular, if the crowds of people in line to purchase sandwiches, baked goods, and coffee drinks are any indication. The moment I walked in I wondered if we’d be able to find somewhere to sit.

Until I noticed a pregnant Ivy waving frantically from a table on the far side of the café and relief flooded me.

I wind my way through the crowded restaurant, my gaze going to the menu, which is written in chalk on a giant blackboard hanging above the counter. The soup and sandwich options sound amazing and my stomach growls in anticipation.

Yikes. Hope that doesn’t happen when I meet Ivy’s friend. Talk about making a tacky first impression.

“Bryn! So good to see you.” Ivy hops up from the table and envelops me in a hug like I’m her long-lost friend. I return the gesture, oddly touched by her affection since I never really get that sort of thing anymore.

I withdraw from Ivy first and smile at the woman who’s now standing next to her. She’s young, with long blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and cool, assessing blue eyes. “This is my friend Marina Knight,” Ivy says, gesturing at Marina with a wave of her hand. “She’s the owner of Autumn Harvest and my future sister-in-law.”

“Stop, please.” Marina rolls her eyes. “Your brother hasn’t made it official yet.”

“Trust me, he will.” Ivy laughs. “Marina, this is Bryn James. She’s Matt’s assistant.”

“Oooh.” That long, dragged out sound is telling. “I’ve heard lots about you.” I both dread and long to know what they’ve said.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell Marina as I shake her hand. All formal and business-like, I sound good. Calm and collected when usually this type of stressful situation tends to bring my Texan out.

It took me over a year to learn how to talk without all those twangs and y’alls but it sure doesn’t take much for me to slip right back into it if I don’t watch out.

“Great to meet you too,” Marina says with a touch too much enthusiasm. “Ivy’s told me so much about you.”

Really? I’m stunned. I figured they might’ve gossiped about me in passing but that’s it. Why in the world would Ivy talk about me to her friend? I’m so in the dark this afternoon I’m scared I won’t survive it.

We all sit down and Marina goes over the menu, explaining what she thinks are the best dishes and expounding on their specials of the day. Once we’ve decided, she calls one of her employees over and he takes our orders—a special perk of being with the owner.

Everyone else has to stand in line and place their order at the counter.

“So Ivy said you want a makeover.”

“I never said any such thing,” I tell Marina, sending a surprised glance in Ivy’s direction. She maintains an expression of innocence, looking downright angelic. I see her devil horns peeking through her hair though.

“Come on, Bryn. You wouldn’t refuse a pregnant woman, would you?” Ivy blinks at me, the epitome of sweetness and light and my hard feelings at being pushed into something I didn’t want to do melt a little.

“You’re going to use that excuse as long as you can, aren’t you?” Marina asks, rolling her eyes.

I know right then I’ll like Marina.

“The entire pregnancy, absolutely,” Ivy confirms, smiling. “Bryn, I can tell you’re uncomfortable with this, but please. I’m a hormonal pregnant lady who wants nothing more than to have fun today. And having fun means finding you a gorgeous dress and going to the spa.”

Just the word spa has dread curling in my stomach. Spa equals expensive. I should know. I’ve never been to one because I can’t afford it.

“You’re scaring her, Ivy,” Marina says, her voice low. “Stop laying it on so thick. Maybe you should tell her the truth.”

The truth? That sounds ominous. But there’s no truth to be told, at least not yet. Ivy merely smiles at me, then changes the subject. We talk about everything and nothing while we wait for our food, Marina and Ivy chattering on while I interject when asked. Other than that, I remain silent, drinking in the cute yet hip atmosphere of the café.

Our lunches finally arrive and I dive right in, holding nothing back. I’m freaking starved and usually I eat at home, rarely going out, only because I know hardly anyone. And, since I don’t cook, I eat pitiful meals that consist of Lean Cuisine microwaved meals or premade salads I pick up at the local grocery store. After I finish, they always leave me feeling empty and unsatisfied.

Kind of like my life.