Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel

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Authors: Monica Murphy
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fascinated with her being from Texas only because that’s the last place I figured she’d be from, for some reason. I assumed she was a local, just like everyone else who worked for the DeLuca Winery.
    The more she spoke of Texas, the thicker her accent got. It was cute, hearing her talk about grandmas and chocolate cake. She didn’t drop too many other details though. Made me think there’s a lot more going on behind the scenes.
    I wonder if she’s hiding something. I know I wish I could—my past, my entire life history is out there for all the world to read and see, thanks to Vinnie DeLuca and his escapades.
    She’s actually a little feisty which I didn’t expect. But I’ve only known the other Bryn. The beige-wearing, never-looking-at-me version. This new Bryn, with the sophisticated yet sexy clothes, the gorgeous hair, and the mildly sassy attitude is a pleasant surprise.
    I like that she actually ate a meal too. I’ve dated women before who pick at their plates or only order a piece of lettuce and a glass of water. Not only did Bryn down almost her entire meal, she also scarfed down on bread, just like I did.
    Had no idea a woman with a healthy appetite was so arousing.
    “Sounds like your career was cut super short, huh.” She winces. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sure you don’t like talking about it.”
    “It’s all right. Just a fact of life, you know?” I shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother me that I lost my baseball career, but it does. It hurts tremendously. “I miss it, but life goes on and brings you new challenges.”
    She raises a delicate brow. “And I’m sure the winery is a challenge.”
    “Absolutely it is—an interesting one though. Lots of hard work, but I believe it’s going to reward us in the end.” I said us , like she’s an integral part of this winery, which she is to me.
    I wonder if she knows exactly how much I value her. And I’m not talking about her salary or how much I’m making off this venture or anything like that. I’m referring to how much I need her help. How stuck I’d be without her.
    Of course, it’s not all about finances and how much money you make, right? I have enough money to last me ten lifetimes. My dad may be a loudmouthed jerk who loves to make his troubles public, but he’s a rich loudmouthed jerk. I think that’s what allowed him to be so crazy through the years. When you’re rich, you’re eccentric. When you’re poor, you’re flat out strange.
    Either way, growing up with my father was quite the experience. He expected me to be just like him. So I tried my best to emulate him as much as I could, but I did it with my pro baseball career.
    Until the unfortunate injury that took me out of the game permanently. Dad just about lost it. I swear he was ready to disown me and it hadn’t even been my fault. Though it was already on shaky ground, our relationship hasn’t been the same since.
    Now I try my best to avoid being lumped in with my father.
    “I’m sure it’ll work out. I think you might have the golden touch,” she says, her voice soft, her smile . . .
    It’s such a pretty smile. She’s pretty. Beautiful. I stare at her, momentarily captivated and I shake my head, banishing my wayward thoughts.
    I wonder what she meant when she said that I have the golden touch. I fucked up one career by complete accident. I’m working extra hard to make sure this one goes off without a hitch.
    Now I can only hope everything sticks to the plan. We’re two days out. The grand reopening kicks off Friday afternoon and runs into the late evening, with all sorts of press events, a tour of the vineyards, a wine tasting, and finally, the party starts at six. There will be food, plenty of DeLuca wine, and live entertainment.
    I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
    “Well, I should get back to work,” I say as I point my fork at her. When I get time, I need to go back and check out the restaurant Bryn picked up our

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