CHAPTER ONE
A summer in Europe was the stuff of fairy tales, but nothing beat coming home. Even if it was with a cracked heart and bruised ego.
Anticipation welled in Layla’s stomach as she tore down the blacktop in her cherry red convertible, drinking in the ancient cypress trees draped in Spanish moss. Hot wind whipped her dark hair against her designer sunglasses. Clouds gathered overhead, and the air grew heavy with humidity. Four months away from South Carolina—three as a chaperone for Destiny Tours and another at her family’s Italian villa—was too long.
She rounded a bend in the road, and an elegant sign appeared before the turn for Cypress Grove. Neatly mowed clover surrounded its base, and ivy climbed up the stone. She still remembered the day that sign had been installed. She’d been five years old and so excited to see all the brides that would flock to the mansion.
Layla snorted and turned down the narrow lane, pressing the pedal a bit harder. Thunder rumbled through the sky; she had maybe ten minutes before the heavens opened. A twinge of pain plucked at her heart, but she pushed it back. She wasn’t about to let some boy ruin rainstorms for her.
She was done with men for the foreseeable future. A girl could only handle so many rejections before her self-esteem started to suffer.
The green leaves of tobacco plants peeked through tree branches. She caught sight of a combine working on the last of the harvest, and a flood of happy memories engulfed her. She’d always loved harvest season, when the plantation bustled with activity from dawn until dusk.
She belonged in South Carolina, far away from the flirty man with lanky limbs and an adorable smile, who loved to tease but couldn’t make an actual move.
Stupid, shy Tyler. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
As Layla rounded a bend in the road, the mansion finally came into view. The elegant white marble columns rose toward the graying sky, making her breath catch and heart swell with pride. Three white service vans were parked in the circular driveway with company logos on the side. There was probably a wedding at the mansion tonight. Ever since Cypress Grove had been featured in Southern Bride magazine, the place had been booked solid.
Layla bypassed the mansion, taking the private drive that led to her family’s home a half a mile away. The federal-style red brick came into view. It had been the original plantation home, built in the early 1700s, and wasn’t as grand as the mansion that followed seventy years later, but Layla had loved growing up there.
She parked in the driveway and raised the top on her convertible as thunder cracked once more. She didn’t bother grabbing her luggage—Alfonso would get it later. Her sandaled feet touched the concrete drive, and heat radiated through her shoes to fill her soul.
Home.
She glanced again at the sky. Perhaps five minutes until the storm started. She couldn’t wait to sit on the veranda and watch as thick drops pelted the pond that lay between her home and the mansion.
The front door flew open, and Gloria rushed down the steps, her sagging arms open wide. Her blonde hair sported new streaks of gray, and frizzy locks escaped her tight bun.
“Welcome home, Miss Layla,” she said.
Layla wrapped her arms around the woman. Gloria smelled faintly of jasmine and Orange Glo, instantly triggering the nostalgia of childhood.
“It’s great to be back,” Layla said. “How are you?”
“Oh, we’ve all been getting along just fine,” Gloria said. “Your mama and daddy are on the veranda. I’ll bring out a fresh pitcher of sweet tea in a jiffy.”
“That sounds divine,” Layla said, perching her sunglasses on top of her head. “I haven’t had a decent glass since I left. Does Camille have the day off?” She was usually the employee who served drinks to the family.
“Something like that.” Gloria waved her arms, glancing at the clouds that grew ever closer. “Come in before the rain lets loose.”
Layla raised an eyebrow, but followed Gloria inside. Had Camille quit?
The dark mahogany crown molding and Antebellum-period reproduction wallpaper wrapped around Layla like a comforting blanket. She ran her hand over the carved back of a settee as she passed through the living room, then let herself out onto the back veranda.
Her mother rested in a chaise lounge, her bottle-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she worked on a crossword puzzle. Daddy stood at the railing, facing the pond dotted in lily pads and the sweeping columns of the mansion. The scene was a familiar one, and Layla’s bruised heart give a happy flutter.
She shouldn’t have stayed in Italy for so long. She’d missed afternoon tea with her parents, lightning bugs in the evenings, and helping out with events at the mansion. Originally, she’d planned to return to South Carolina as soon as her summer job with Destiny Tours ended, but after the relationship-that-wasn’t, she’d needed an escape.
A strong jaw, freckled face, and messy blond hair that sometimes glinted red flashed into her mind before she pushed it away. Tyler had been a summer fling—if she could count flirting as a fling. Now, summer was over; time to embark on her next adventure. Maybe she’d remodel the pool house or offer to help out at the mansion. She hadn’t hosted a party in way too long.
Thunder boomed, and lightning streaked across the sky. Any minute now, the clouds would unleash their fury.
Her mother clicked a pen and scrawled a word in her puzzle as Daddy shifted, resting his hands on the porch railing.
Layla grinned, making her footfalls heavy so she wouldn’t startle them. “Morning.”
Daddy turned around, his suit coat uncharacteristically rumpled. Mom rose from the chair, a smile gracing her lips.
“Baby,” Mom said, wrapping Layla in a tight hug. “We’re so glad you’re home.”
Layla hung on a second longer than necessary, burying her face in her mom’s stiff, aerosol-scented hair. “It’s nice to be back.”
“We missed you,” Daddy said.
Layla gave him a tight hug as well. The dark shadows under his eyes said he’d spent too many long nights at the office.
“How was Italy?” Mom asked.
“Beautiful, as always,” Layla said. “I decided to renovate the master bedroom at the villa. You’ll love the fabrics I chose.”
“Without asking me?” Daddy asked.
Layla blanched at the tight edge to his voice. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Mom’s been talking about it for ages, and I needed a project.”
Gloria wheeled a cart onto the patio, the clatter of the steel wheels against the Trex planks interrupting their conversation. Layla gratefully accepted a glass of sweet tea and settled into a cushioned chair. Her father had a tight line between his brow. Was he seriously upset about the remodel? He’d never cared about that sort of thing before.
Thunder rumbled, and the heavens opened. Rain poured down in a waterfall, slapping against the roof and pounding against the pavement. Layla watched as it ping-ponged around on the surface of the pond. She took a long sip of her tea, savoring the overly sweet flavor with a hint of lemon. Perfect.
Gloria left, closing the double doors behind her. Daddy didn’t move to pour himself a glass of tea. His shoulders were tense, arms folded.
“I’m sorry about the master bedroom,” Layla said. “I have pictures. If you don’t like something, I’ll make sure it gets fixed.”
“I’m not worried about that.” A muscle spasmed in his jaw.
Layla sat up, setting her glass on the small end table with more force than necessary. “If you’re not upset about the remodel, then what’s wrong?”
Lightning shot across the sky, turning Daddy’s face gray.
“It’s going to be just fine, sugar plum.” Mom’s words tumbled over each other as she patted Layla’s hand. “Daddy’s got a solution all figured out.”
Thunder made the planks vibrate beneath her feet, and Layla batted away the fear building inside. “You’re scaring me.”
Daddy stared at Layla, his dark eyes making nerves skitter up her spine. She held his gaze until her eyes watered.
He gave a sharp nod, as though coming to a decision, and dropped into the chair next to Layla’s.
“The money’s gone,” Daddy said, his tone flat.
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