She smiled, teasing. “I don’t know about that, I’m fully booked,” she said. “But I suppose I could find some room … if you don’t mind sharing.”
“I don’t mind that at all.”
Noah kissed her, slow and hot, and she couldn’t help melting in his arms. All the pain, all the grief, it all seemed worth it to bring them both to this moment. Evie knew she’d been given a second chance at a love that would last a lifetime.
And it was going to be spectacular.
Not quite THE END…
Epilogue
A few miles away …
Jules Rivera didn’t believe in destiny.
Fate, providence, the stars aligning. They made for nice stories, sure, but that was all they were, fictions designed to make sense of the true chaos of the world. But Jules didn’t want a secret roadmap: she embraced the chaos. She bought the chaos a double round and wound up on a midnight adventure, having a great time. Usually. But today, she couldn’t help wishing there was some grand cosmic plan to comfort her, a method to the madness. Because she was officially having the worst day of her life. Somehow she’d managed to lose her apartment, her job, and her boyfriend …
And the day wasn’t even over yet.
“Come on!” she cried in frustration, leaning on the horn. The rain beat down on her car windshield as she sat there, stuck in the middle of the highway on her way up to Cape Cod with all her worldly possessions crammed in the backseat. Her best friend Evie was hosting a party to celebrate the grand opening of her B&B, but Jules had been caught in traffic for an hour now, inching along at a snail’s pace. She was in desperate need of a stiff drink and a bathroom break.
Not necessarily in that order.
She peered up ahead, scanning the narrow highway for a gas station or cafe, but there was no sign of relief, just woods and open fields all the way down to the shore. She was seriously considering pulling off the side of the road and ducking behind a hedge for privacy when, finally, traffic started to move. “Thank you!” she cheered, yanking her old Ford into gear and hitting the gas. “Running water, here I come!”
But she’d spoken too soon. Jules had barely made it around the bend when the car lurched like she’d driven over a rock, and then a few seconds later, her tire pressure light went on. “No, no …,” she wailed as she felt the air go out of her front tire.
She managed to pull over onto a sandy patch of grass and stepped out into the rain to check the damage. Sure enough, her front tire was deflating fast, a twisted piece of metal lodged in the rubber. Jules took in the sight of a literal bump in the road and felt her resolve wobble.
Just how much more bad luck could she take?
It’s OK, she told herself, trying to keep it together. You can handle this. You can handle anything. She just had to make it to Sweetbriar Cove, and then she could collapse in a pathetic mess of ice cream and self-pity. But since there was no Prince Charming about to come to her rescue, she would just have to rescue herself.
Jules wiped the rain from her face and went to get the spare tire. She’d done it a dozen times over the years, but when she hauled up the flooring and checked the wheel well, there was one thing missing: Her toolkit. Which, she realized with a sinking heart, she’d last seen a month ago, when her now-ex-boyfriend had begged to borrow it and sworn he’d put it right back when he was done.
Jules sank back against the car and despaired. This was what she got for sleeping with the boss.
Not that Rory had been her boss in the beginning. They’d met through friends at a dinner party last year, and Jules had found him endearingly dorky. He was a mapmaker, of all things, and he had talked passionately about the dying art of cartography and how impossible it was to make a living when everyone just looked up directions on their phone. Once they started dating, Jules’s mind had ticked over, and she’d suggested a dozen ways his work could get more attention. She’d set up social media accounts for him and sent out press releases until he’d finally suggested she come onto the payroll, since she was doing more for his business than his other official employees. Six months later, his business was booming, he was featured in every cool magazine around, and he had clients lining up for his bespoke maps. Thanks to Jules’s hard work and talent, he’d become a massive success.
And in exchange, he’d gone ahead and made her single and unemployed.
Clearly, she needed to work on her negotiation skills.
Jules looked around. She had no reception on her cellphone, but there was a driveway just up ahead leading to some kind of a farm set back up the hill, so she pulled her jacket over her head and began jogging through the rain, cursing Rory’s name with every mud-splattered step. By the time she reached the top of the hill, she was soaked through, but when she caught sight of the faded old sign out front her spirits rose again.
Hastings Family Vineyard & Winery.
A vineyard? It was almost enough to make her believe in destiny.
She looked around. Of to the side were the charred remains of a barn-type structure, but the main building was a big, lodge-style house. She headed inside, already anticipating her celebratory glass of wine, but when she stepped through the doors, she found the place was deserted. Not just empty, but eerily, horror-movie empty. The lights were off, despite the rainstorm, and there was a faded, dusty feeling lingering in the main lobby.
“Hello?” she called out, but there was no reply. “Anyone here?”
Silence.
Well, if there was nobody around, they wouldn’t mind if she ducked into the restrooms. Jules spied a sign on the door down the hall and practically sprinted over. Relief. In more ways than one. She washed her hands under the ice-cold faucet and reemerged feeling like a new woman.
A new woman who could really use a glass of wine.
She followed the hallway into what was clearly a wood-paneled tasting room. Faded old armchairs were set out by the fire, and an weathered, pockmarked bar was set up along one wall, with bottles of wine gathering dust on the shelf. The rain beat down outside, and Jules figured she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while, so she ducked behind the bar and searched for a good cabernet. She found a bottle with a price tag that didn’t make her wince and popped the cork, pouring herself a generous glass.
“What are you doing?”
Jules whirled around with a yelp. “You scared me!” she exclaimed, taking in the stranger.
The tall, handsome stranger.
Hello.
Jules caught her breath. Her pulse was still racing, and it had nothing to do with the surprise—and everything to do with the man currently glaring at her from across the bar. He had tawny hair and blue eyes, with a week’s worth of beard on his strong jaw. Even with a scowl on his face, he looked scruffy and delicious—in jeans and a flannel shirt, he was the exact opposite of her ex and his neatly pressed button-downs.
The button-downs that, Jules hated to admit, she’d wound up pressing for him.
“You’re not supposed to be back there,” the man said, folding his arms. Which just showed off his tanned forearms, dusted lightly with blond hair. Jules tried not to stare. She’d always been a sucker for a good forearm.
“Do you work here?” she asked, cursing the fact she probably looked like a drowned rat. She frantically smoothed down her dripping hair and beamed at him. “Great! I’ll take this bottle.”