“You’ve got to listen to reason, darling.”

Cole dropped his head against the cold leather of one of his father’s wingback chairs and sighed, doing his best to mentally shut out the drone of his mother’s voice. She’d called him home to harass him again, about his perceived chronic bachelorhood as far as he could tell, and he wasn’t interested in what she had to say.

“I do date, Mother,” Cole grumbled.

The truth of his relationship situation lay somewhere between what his mother accused him of and what he said. Cole did date, frequently, but rarely more than a handful of times with the same person. It wasn’t that he wanted to go through relationships the way he did; it was just that no one had ever held his attention.

Cole did most of his partner searching when he least intended—at lunch with his sister, at the grocery store, while chatting up a customer. He didn’t enjoy the bar and club scene. His best friend, Ryan, had long given up on trying to talk him out of the house and agreed to spend time at Cole’s villa at the Vineyard if he wanted to hang out on the weekends.

Cole’s family owned a decent-sized and comfortably successful vineyard in the heart of California wine country. It had been in his family for generations and he’d taken over the day-to-day operations after he graduated from college. It had always been a given that he would inherit Mallory Vineyard and he’d spent his adult life preparing for it.

Not to say he wanted his parents to die, quite the opposite. His parents had little interest in maintaining the vineyard, but appreciated the family heritage of the place. His mother, Constance, had worked out a deal with her parents, the current owners, and arranged for it to pass to Cole instead of to her. Everyone had been in agreement for years.

“They’re going to leave the vineyard to Kristen!” his mother shouted, a rare breach of decorum that drew his attention.

“I’m sorry, what?” Cole asked, confident he’d misheard.

“If you don’t settle down, they’re going to will the vineyard to Kristen.” His mother collapsed into a chair opposite him.

“She doesn’t even want the vineyard. She’s getting married in a week and moving to Connecticut,” Cole reminded her of the facts she already knew.

“Kristen will probably sell it,” Constance agreed.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Then just have them leave it to you, and you can will it to me.”

“That won’t happen,” she lamented. “You know how your Nan gets when she gets an idea, and she’s got an idea.”

Cole closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, frustrated with this unexpected turn of events.

“Does Nan know I’m gay?” he asked, opening his eyes and giving his mother a sardonic glare.

“Surprisingly, Cole, she could care less who you settle down with as long as you just settle down. She reminded me no less than eight times that Mallory Vineyard is a family business with a family name.”

“And she’d rather let Kristen sell it off than let a bachelor take rights to it?” Cole pushed out of the chair and paced across the room to the window, resting his hands on the ledge and staring outside. His father’s office had one of the best views the main house had to offer and, much to Cole’s delight, it didn’t face his own house that sat across the property.

“Family, Cole,” his mother reminded him gently.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered, slicking a hand through his short black hair. He walked back to the table he’d been sitting beside and leaned down, dropping a perfunctory kiss on his mother’s cheek.

“Please be reasonable,” she pleaded.

“I need a drink, Mom.”

Cole left her in the study, choosing to walk the half mile across the property to his residence. He pushed the front door open then closed it tightly behind him and locked it, as if that would keep the conversation and the black cloud that had followed it out of his private space.

In his kitchen, he poured himself a glass of Cabernet and pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the hundreds of names he had stored in it.

Ginger from Starbucks.

Tattoos at Gas Station.

Kristen’s baker.

Blondie at Target.

Jackson.

Caleb.

Ryan.

Cole groaned and dialed Ryan’s number. He didn’t answer, and Cole didn’t leave a message, opting instead to finish his wine and slide his phone onto the kitchen counter. He stalked upstairs to his bedroom and kicked his shoes into his closet before stripping out of his slacks and long-sleeve button-up. He discarded his briefs, tossing everything into his hamper. He walked naked to the bathroom tucked into a corner of the bedroom and opened the glass shower door, turning the hot water on.

He stepped into the spray and squirted some soap into his hand, jerking himself off quickly—because what was the point of a shower if you didn’t come—then washed himself before rinsing and stepping out to dry off.

Cole pulled a pair of clean jeans out of his dresser and a fresh pair of briefs, dressing without much thought. He ran a hand through the fuzz of his happy trail, making sure his chest and stomach were dry before he pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

Back in the kitchen, he noticed Ryan hadn’t called him back, but he had two missed calls from his mom. He wasn’t interested in dealing with her, so he powered off his phone and left it behind as he picked up his keys and wallet and headed out the front door.

Cole hopped into the driver’s seat of his Range Rover and drove himself out of Mallory Vineyard, away from his family and these unexpected complications. He cruised through town, grumbling to himself about his grandparents the entire way. Cole had always planned on settling down and getting married, maybe even having a dog, or kids, but he was only twenty-eight. Why the rush?

He pulled into the parking lot of Tubby’s and cut the engine. He went in the back door, taking a seat at the corner of the bar.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Or ever.”

Cole looked up and narrowed his eyes at Ivan, the bartender.

“I can leave,” Cole offered, pointing toward the door he’d just entered through.

“Sure, go,” Ivan said, his face unamused.

They stared at each other in silence until Cole saw the corner of Ivan’s lip twitch, giving him away. His mouth split into a smile and he laughed, extending a hand across the bar to shake Cole’s hand.

“Where the fuck have you been, man?” Ivan asked, pouring Cole a pint of beer. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Not since you and Caleb split.”

Cole’s mood soured briefly, thinking about Caleb for the second time that night, which as far as he was concerned was two too many. He hadn’t thought much about Caleb in the past year and he liked it that way. Even if he’d been with Caleb when this ultimatum from his Nan had come down, he wouldn’t have married him.

Thankfully, Caleb had broken up with him before Cole had been forced to make that call.

“I’ve just been running Mallory,” he answered, taking a drink of his beer.

“Is it yours yet?”

Cole shook his head.

“What about you? What have you been up to?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, you know. Just glad it’s tourist season.” Ivan grinned a bit mischievously.

Cole rolled his eyes; his old friend from high school had quite a reputation for being a ladies’ man. With wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes, Ivan hadn’t ever had an issue talking his way into the beds of the myriad of bridesmaids, sorority girls, and middle-aged divorcees that rolled through town in the summer.

“How many this year?” Cole asked, taking another long pull of his drink.

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell,” Ivan said, feigning horror. “Definitely not six.”

Cole laughed and shook his head.

A group of people from the other end of the bar called Ivan away, but he poured Cole a fresh pint before disappearing. Cole finished his first drink and started on his second, thinking back to the earlier conversation with his mom.

The thought that his Nan would leave Kristen the vineyard just because he wasn’t in a long-term and legally-binding relationship was beyond frustrating. Kristen was twenty-three and vapid, focused solely on the number of zeroes in her fiancé Edward’s bank account.

It was six zeroes; Cole knew because his father had told him. Like Cole had any concern about money or how much Kristen would have to play with once she suckered poor Edward Fulton into marrying her on the white sand beaches of French Polynesia.

As much as Cole wasn’t interested in watching Edward ruin his life by tying himself to Kristen, he was looking forward to five days and four nights on a private strip of beach. He didn’t have a date and briefly debated if finding a date worthy of a family wedding would possibly be enough to convince his Nan that Mallory should be left to him like they’d always planned.

Half a pint later, he decided it was a half-baked idea.

A sharp bark of laughter at the other end of the bar drew his attention. Leaning forward, he looked toward the sound in time to watch Ivan angle himself toward a busty blonde who was laughing in that painfully obvious, pay-attention-to-me kind of way.

He could get involved with a woman, he thought. It would be a total facade, but could potentially appease his family if they acted convincingly enough. They’d have to reach an agreement, of course, since Cole wasn’t attracted to women, but if they could each have their own dalliances on the side…

Another half a pint later, he decided that was an even worse idea than the first one.

Cole sighed, without a clue as to what he should do.