Falling For The Wrong Brother. Michelle Major

shoulder, playing the part of the brokenhearted groom to a T. If he hadn’t been set on becoming the family scion, Trevor could have had a career in Hollywood. This little performance showed he was a consummate actor, although Griffin didn’t believe a moment of it.

      People turned as he stalked up the aisle, but his full attention was on Trevor. He hadn’t seen his brother since their father’s funeral four years ago. Trevor was a couple of inches shorter than Griffin, his hair a shade lighter, making him look even more the golden son.

      “Griffin.” Trevor’s deep voice boomed through the nearly empty sanctuary. He opened his arms, preparing to greet the prodigal brother with a hug. As if that would ever happen. “Good to see you, man. Sorry you came all this way for—”

      Griffin slammed his fist into Trevor’s face without a second thought, the sharp pain in his knuckles a welcome outlet for his frustration.

      Trevor muttered a curse as he stumbled back a few steps, covering his left eye with one hand. “What the hell was that for?”

      “You tell me.” Griffin shook out his hand, then turned to meet the shocked gazes of the people still standing in the back of the church. “If you folks will excuse us, my brother and I need to speak in private.”

      “Maggie left him,” said the older woman, whom Griffin finally recognized as his high school health teacher. “She walked out just as the ceremony was starting. It wasn’t his fault. Trevor’s the victim here. His poor face.”

      “Victim,” Griffin repeated. “I don’t think so.”

      “You don’t know anything,” Trevor said, the skin around his eye already turning a satisfying shade of purple.

      “Really?” Griffin crossed his arms and arched a brow, letting Trevor know without words that he wasn’t fooled by the jilted-groom act. “Do you want to have this conversation here or in private? Think long and hard about your answer, Trev.”

      Griffin was bluffing. Maggie had told him nothing, but he couldn’t shake his suspicion that she’d had more of a reason for playing the runaway bride than she’d let on. Walking away wasn’t in her character, and he didn’t buy his self-important brother as the jilted groom for one minute.

      Trevor stared at him for a moment, his eyes unreadable. Then a muscle ticked in his jaw, and Griffin wanted to punch him again. He recognized Trevor’s tell from when they were kids, and Griffin knew without a doubt his brother was guilty of something.

      “I’m not going to bore these nice people with our family drama,” Trevor said, his tone smooth like Harvest Vineyards’ flagship pinot.

      “It’s not boring,” the health teacher—Mrs. Davis if Trevor remembered correctly—said enthusiastically.

      Trevor flashed the most charming smile he could with his swollen eye. “You’re a sweetheart, Mrs. D, and I’d appreciate a few of your famous oatmeal scotchies the next time you bake a batch. Right now, I’m going to take a minute with my brother.” He glanced around the church, as pious as a choirboy. “This isn’t the place for violence.”

      Immediately, Griffin regretted letting his temper get the best of him. Or at least he regretted hitting Trevor in a church. His mother would have a fit when she heard about it, and he’d already caused Jana Stone enough trouble to last a lifetime.

      “I’ll talk to you all soon,” Trevor called to the rest of the onlookers. “Thanks for the support today.”

      Griffin looked over his shoulder as he followed Trevor toward the vestry. The few people who’d witnessed his outburst were whispering among themselves and met his gaze with a round of angry glares. Only an hour back in Stonecreek and he was bristling to escape again.

      He didn’t bother closing the door as Trevor walked to a small refrigerator positioned in the corner of the room and pulled a bottle of water from it.

      “Did you talk to Maggie?” he asked, wincing as he pressed the water bottle to his eye.

      “Yes. I was late for the ceremony and saw her walking down the sidewalk.”

      “I’m surprised you recognized her.”

      “She was wearing a damn bridal gown.”

      Trevor sighed. “I told her she could take my car when she left.”

      “A gentleman to the end,” Griffin muttered, pacing to one side of the room and running a hand along the edge of the bookshelf lined with hymnals.

      “What did she tell you?”

      Griffin forced himself not to stiffen. “I want to hear it from you.”

      “Maggie promised she wouldn’t talk. She said she understood.” Trevor blew out a frustrated breath. “Neither one of us meant for it to happen. I tried to cut things off. Hell, she was here with Tommy. He was one of my groomsmen. I introduced them four months ago. You remember him, right?”

      “The fool who accidentally set himself on fire at homecoming your freshman year?”

      “The bonfire after the football game got out of hand,” Trevor said almost reluctantly. “He’s grown up a lot since then. Sort of.”

      “So you set your mistress up with an idiot? Nice backup plan.”

      “I chose Maggie,” Trevor insisted. “But if she won’t forgive—”

      “She didn’t tell me anything,” he said through clenched teeth.

      Trevor’s mouth fell open. “Then how did you—”

      “I didn’t,” Griffin interrupted. “Not until this moment. Maggie’s version was that she realized the two of you were better as friends and she couldn’t go through with the marriage.”

      “It’s the truth,” Trevor said, dropping into a chair positioned next to a rack of black robes.

      This cramped room wasn’t quite the pulpit, but Griffin still felt a stab of guilt for his violent thoughts under the church roof. “Not the whole truth.”

      “Hell, Grif, I tried. We both did. This wedding meant more to the families—more to the town—than to either of us.”

      “What a lame excuse for cheating.”

      Trevor’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I wasn’t cheating today. Not really.”

      “Then what did Maggie see?”

      “Julia and I were kissing. A farewell kiss.”

      “In the church before your wedding ceremony?” Griffin laughed without humor. “You’re going to act holier-than-thou because I punched you in the sanctuary? The angels were probably cheering me on.”

      “What do you care?” Trevor demanded. “You told me you weren’t even going to be here today. Suddenly you feel the need to come to Maggie’s defense? You never liked her when we were younger. You have no relationship with her. I don’t get it.”

      Griffin turned away toward the window overlooking the glen behind the church. The towering maple trees provided a lush green canopy, and tulips in a variety of colors lined the cobblestone path. Lilac bushes bloomed with lavender flowers, a short burst of color that would be gone by summer.

      He’d spent most of the past decade in war-torn countries across the Middle East. Places baked by the sun, where it was as common to breathe in sand as air. There’d been moments where he’d felt like his throat would always be coated with the stuff, and he’d closed his eyes late at night and imagined himself back in this verdant valley.

      He’d foregone college and joined the army against his parents’ wishes. Life in Stonecreek had felt like it was choking him after a stupid mistake fractured any possible relationship with his father. It wasn’t until he’d traveled halfway around the world that he’d realized how much home meant to him.

      He hadn’t wanted