St. Helena Vineyard Series: Something Borrowed (Kindle Worlds Novella)

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Something Borrowed

  St. Helena Vineyard Kindle World

  Novella

  Brittany Holland

  Cover: Brittany Holland

  Editor: Monica Black, Word Nerd Editing

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena Vineyard series, and the Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.

  I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.

  Warmly,

  Marina Adair

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Marina Adair:

  Thanks for being my literary fairy-godmother

  (not the silver-haired kind, but the Megan Fox kind),

  and believing in me! Without your kindness and

  encouragement, this book wouldn't be what it is!

  Chapter 1

  Camilla

  The scent of fresh coffee pulls me from my slumber. Yawning, I sit up against the beige tufted headboard, grab my glasses off the nightstand, and glance around, taking in the gorgeous suite I get to call home for a couple days, still finding it hard to believe this is my life.

  My skin stings as I pinch myself. Yep, I'm awake.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," Bea chirps as she sets two steaming mugs of coffee down on the table.

  "Morning," I offer, stretching as I walk to join her. "You know, it’s freakishly annoying how much you love mornings."

  She shoots me an awkward smile and shrugs. "I brought you something,” she teases, swinging a white paper bag toward me before snatching it back. “But if you're too annoyed by my visit, I’ll just take this freakishly delicious chocolate pastry and wake up another unsuspecting friend.”

  I make to grab for the bag, but miss, my aim slightly off from my grogginess. "How did you get in here?"

  She raises a perfectly penciled eyebrow, her blue eyes full of mischief. "Really wanna know?"

  Lowering myself in the seat across from her, I tease, "What did you do, show the bellhop your boobs?"

  The bag lands on the table with a thud as her hands fly up to her chest. "What! Why, I would never!" Mock gasping accompanied by her fake southern accent causes us to giggle like a couple idiots.

  "Okay, Ms. O'Hara. I believe you. Now, feed me!" She knows about my weakness for chocolate. Lord knows the girl is resourceful.

  "I thought so." She laughs as she sets out our breakfast.

  I tear into my pastry and motion around the suite. "We really could have shared a room. This seems a bit extravagant." Fresh flowers on the desk in a crystal vase, the french doors open, letting in a warm breeze, and don't even get me started on the bathroom—marble, marble, and more marble.

  She rolls her eyes, her mouth full of blueberry muffin.

  "What, it's true! You'll spend all your time in here anyway," I remind her, sipping my coffee. “Shit! That’s freaking hot!” Liquid sprays out of my scolded mouth, my tongue feeling like it just lapped up lava. “What'd you do, milk a dragon for that cream?"

  "Serves you right." She drinks hers without any regard to the fact that it nearly burned my lips off. "Tastes perfect to me. And we couldn't share a suite."

  "Why is that?" I raise a brow, my curiosity piqued.

  "When you end up back here with one of the groomsmen, I don't want to witness that, and threesomes aren't really my thing." She has the nerve to wink.

  "Oh my, what—are you freaking insane? I'm working! So are you! This isn't Girl's Gone Wild - Bridal Party Edition." Laughing, I throw a chunk of pastry at her face, but it sweeps past, missing its target.

  “I didn't say it was. But you’ve been in St. Helena for three months, maybe it's time for you to make some new friends.” She starts playing with her phone as I pick up our breakfast mess. “Of the male species," she adds, wiggling her brows at me suggestively.

  "I told you, I'm not looking for anything right now." Not long term. Not one night. Not at all. “I’m so grateful to your Aunt Mona for bringing me on as head bridal designer at Enchanted, I can’t let anything get in the way of proving she made the right decision. This job is all I have,” I try to explain, but she keeps playing on her damn phone. “Are you even listening to me?” My hands shoot to my hips to show her I mean business. “I’m serious!”

  "All work, no play, yada-yada—I’ve got it. But it doesn’t mean you can’t jump back in the game, or in this case, on the pony." Ginuwine's “Pony” blares from her phone and Bea starts dancing like the freak she is, wild gold curls bouncing.

  "You're messed up. You know that, right?" I try to contain my amusement.

  "Ah, but that's why you love me so much," she teases. And she's right. She's the first person in a long time who has let me be myself—no judgement or expectations. Growing up in foster care, I always felt on display, and tried to be my best, but my best was never enough. I never found a permanent family, and aged out of the system at eighteen. Art was a hobby that became a passion, and an art teacher at a local community center I often attended nurtured that talent, helping me get into art school. I was lucky to receive a scholarship to the Chicago Institute of Design, which included housing—how I met my best friend of the last five years, Bea, who was pursuing her own creative passion, photography.

  "Touché. Okay, time to get ready." We fall into our normal routine. We've come a long way from throwing ourselves together for class, to primping for clubbing, and now dressing for our professional careers—jobs we dreamed about.

  It feels so surreal.

  Chapter 2

  Camilla

  Smoothing down my black chiffon dress, I take a deep breath and knock on the bridal suite door.

  "Ferris, if that's you again, you’re gonna be sorry," a fiery voice yells though the door.

  "Um, it's Camilla, actually. From Enchanted. I'm here to help you dress. We met—" The door swings open and a gentle tug on my arm guides me into the room, cutting me off. It's breathtaking. I look around, in awe of the way the morning lights surround me, flooding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Standing in the center is a smiling Daisy Daniels, the bride.

  "Of course. We've met," she says, coming up an
d hugging me. "Sorry. I thought you might be Ferris again. He's been trying to sneak in to see me. He's not much of a rule follower," she confesses, the slight admiration in her voice making me think she likes this about her prospective groom.

  Though I'm nervous to be handling such a high-profile client without Mona while she’s recovering from hip replacement surgery, I smile and nod. Part of our services not only include designing and making the dress, but acting as the bride’s personal attendant for the wedding day. It’s not uncommon to sew a bride into a gown for the nuptials, much like celebrities do for award shows. Even though Daisy has always been so gracious, I know how brides can be on the big day.

  She smiles at me, perfect white teeth on display. "I can't thank you enough for stepping in and helping Mona."

  "I'm honored to be here today. You look beautiful, Ms. Daniels."

  "Please, call me Daisy," she corrects. "And you can thank the hair and makeup crew for all this," she adds, waving her hand in front of her face and over her head. "The other girls and my mom will be back soon. They ran to get a snack after the glam squad left. Ferris has Ruby, so we’re all set. They'll be back to dress with me and stage some photos."

  "Would you like me to get you anything?" I offer, knowing most brides won't eat because of nerves or not wanting to appear bloated.

  She surprises me by saying, "No thanks. I have my own stash," and holds up a bakery bag like the one Bea brought me, eyes shining with amusement.

  "Lexi's bakery?" A giggle escapes, and I hope I haven’t offended her, but I too am an addict of Sweet and Savory Bistro.

  "Guilty as charged." She lets out a giggle of her own. "Blueberry lemon scones. They are to die for! I take it Bea found your room okay?"

  I can't help but laugh. "She bribed you?"

  "Something like that," she offers, her personality warm and genuine.

  "That sounds like her.” My head bobs in agreement.

  "Mona tells me you and Bea met at art school in Chicago," she says as she flits around the room, gathering and organizing all the bridesmaid’s shoes.

  Walking toward the garment rack, I begin to fluff her dress, inspecting it as I go. "Yes. We were assigned roommates, but became fast friends."

  Daisy comes to stand in front of a large, ornate mirror and drops her silk robe, revealing the most beautiful white lace lingerie. Removing the gown from the hanger, I give the delicate tulle one last fluff before holding it out for her to step into. Once she’s shimmied into the mermaid style gown, I lace up the back, careful not to snag the floral beading. As the smooth silk glides between my fingers, my mind wanders. I see myself doing this one day—being a bride. The white gown, carrying my favorite flowers, starting a life with someone…but then I think about walking down the aisle alone—no mother to fix my veil, no father to take my arm and give me away…

  Daisy gasps, and I push away the old ghosts, returning my focus to her day—a day every bride dreams of, starting with her dress.

  “It’s exquisite,” she sighs, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

  Seeing the look of pure joy on her face is what makes this job so rewarding. Being a part of such a monumental day, knowing I help put that smile there, causes pride to blossom in my chest.

  Chapter 3

  Camilla

  Large, snowy white canopies cover the grounds behind the resort, the inside showcasing tables of crystal dishes, fragrant flowers, a towering cake, flowing champagne, and guests celebrating the marriage of this beautiful couple. Music fills the night air as I step under a blanket of stars. My work is done. Daisy is changed into her reception gown and the party is in full swing. The day went off without a hitch. Pleased with myself, I kick off my shoes and walk to a patio garden full of pergolas and hidden alcoves.

  This is my favorite part of the night. I slip away, far enough to enjoy my solitude, yet close enough to hear the celebration. Sinking onto a cushion in one of the alcoves looking out over the ocean, I prop my bare feet on the balcony. I forgot to grab my celebratory piece of cake, but I'm too tired to pry myself from this chair. Hearing the waves crashing is a wonderful sound—one I could get used to. So peaceful; so different from the horns, trains, and sirens back in Chicago.

  My heart twinges with sadness as I wring my hands together, my eyes lowering. Seeing their family so happy causes envy to slip into the corners of my mind. I wish there were something waiting for me back home, but a string of foster homes and a controlling ex don't exactly count. A frown pulls at my mouth as my mind drifts to a memory of watching my mother sketching at her art table. The way my father would come in and brush her hair to the side and kiss her neck. A love like theirs should have lasted forever. It's the type of love I pray I'll find. I feel a cool splash on my cheek and brush away the tear. I know they would be happy for me, and proud of me, but, for now, my focus is on making a new life for myself here in California.

  Movement out the corner of my eye startles me, bringing me to the present. A dark shadow storms to the other end of the balcony, gripping both hands on the stone. In the faint lantern light, I make out a tall, well-built man—dark suit, tapered waist, wide set shoulders. As a seamstress, I notice these things. Right…that's the only reason. It’s not the fact that he appears big enough to pick me up, and—whoa, where is this coming from? I sound like Bea. Maybe it's that glass of champagne I had during the toast.

  He turns toward me, and I freeze. There's no way he could see me, hidden in the shadows, but when he looks my way, my knees go weak. The light illuminates his face…and it's gorgeous. Strong jaw and nose, golden hair, curly on top and cut short on the sides. His full lips appear to be set in a scowl as he continues to look in my direction before casting his gaze back out toward the ocean.

  My curiosity increases as I watch him. His shoulders stiff, he pulls at his hair in frustration. Maybe he's a heartbroken ex of the bride who came to convince her to take him back. Okay, maybe I've been reading too many romance novels. Plus, he doesn't look like the type of man a woman would let go of. I know I wouldn't. Butterflies swarm my stomach at the thought of being with him, of being his...

  And…that's my cue to leave. I'm not sure if it's the fatigue or champagne talking, but if this is how he makes me feel across a dark balcony, I can't imagine what being up close and personal would be like.

  A loud beeping fills the air as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell. "What?" he barks out, and I feel sorry for whoever is on the other end. He tangles a hand through his hair, muttering replies. "The deal is off. You broke the contract and no amount of whining is going to change that.”

  He pauses, listening, then, “Go. Tell them all. And watch your family’s precious empire crumble. Guess you didn't read the fine print. You also signed an NDA, but you were too busy trying to weasel your way in, you didn't bother to see who it was you were crawling into bed with." I swear, I can feel the anger radiating off him. It reaches across the darkness, drawing me to him. Watching him from afar is one thing, but overhearing something obviously private seems wrong.

  Now, if I can just figure out how to sneak past him back to the resort. This whole creepy stalker thing isn't really my style. Dipping down, I pick up my shoes. Backing up to leave, my foot catches on a patio chair, and the metal grates on the stone, echoing in the silent night air. I freeze.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Busted.

  Turning, I look up to find his gaze locked on me, and the embarrassing burn of my cheeks makes me glad it's dark.

  Chapter 4

  Carter

  "What are you doing out here?" My voice comes out harsher than I intend, and her gorgeous green eyes widen at the bite in my tone.

  "Excuse me?" she finally speaks.

  "You heard me just fine." Now, I'm just being a dick, but I can't help it. There's something about seeing her caught off-guard that I like. Women aren't typically so standoffish with me, usually because it's not me they are really after; it's a piece of me.

  "So?" I challenge
her, stepping closer. She remains frozen, her eyes wide. Crossing her arms over her chest, she takes a step back, and it’s such a shame. I was enjoying the rise and fall of her generous chest on display. Chocolate brown hair cascading over her pale, creamy shoulder makes me ache to run my fingers through it.

  My eyes sweep up to find hers narrowed as she gives a defiant lift of her chin. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be an ass, and I certainly didn't mean to startle you, but you’re lucky it was me who caught you out here and not one of Hampton’s security guards." I try to play nice.

  She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, her full, heart-shaped lips resting in the perfect pout. The more I watch her, the more I find her irresistible.

  "And what exactly do you think you've caught me doing?" she challenges.

  "Wedding crashing," I throw at her, waiting for the embarrassment to register in her cheeks, but the moment never comes.

  "Unbelievable," she mutters under her breath.

  "So, I'm wrong? You are a guest?"

  "Yes, no—ugh, not exactly." She worries her lip, eyes darting around. I shouldn't keep toying with her, but I'm not ready for her to leave.

  "Mila!" someone calls in the distance.

  I stalk closer, but she holds her ground, refusing to be intimidated by me. Feisty little thing. I instantly like that about her. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's impolite to crash weddings? Bad luck even."

  She draws back, as if I just smacked her. Something passes over her face, but anger takes its place before I can decipher what it is.

  "Mila! Where are you?" The voice sounds closer, and she looks toward the main tent, then back to me, eyes now full of fire.

  "Not that it's any of your business, but no, my parents never “taught” me that. I'm not sure it was a high priority to explain wedding crashing etiquette to a ten-year-old before they were killed by a drunk driver." Her mouth twists into a scowl, posture ridged as she unleashes on me.