“That’s who signed off,” the contractor said. “Brendan Murphy hired us but the name on the work order is Ed McBain from Abel & Ashford.”

“Christ.” No doubt Brendan had taken advantage of Ed’s inexperience. The junior lawyer had messed up big time.

Liam shoved his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around his penknife. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ll get in touch with the lawyers and sort this out.”

The contractor scratched his head. “We’ve been paid to do a job, and it sounds like the right people signed the work order, so we need to get the work done. It’s just a survey. Nothing’s coming down today.”

“You walk anywhere other than to your truck and—”

“Liam!” Joe appeared in the doorway. “Let them do what they have to do. We’ll sort this out the right way. Don’t let Brendan send you down a path that will compromise everything you’ve built. Knowing him, he might have set this up to do exactly that. Think of Daisy. She’s got a stake in this, too.”

Liam gritted his teeth, taking deep breaths to try and slow the ragged throb of his pulse. Think of Daisy. No doubt she would be fiercely angry on his behalf, just as she had been when they’d met his investment banker friends at the hockey game. He could imagine her tossing out cutting French insults that no one could understand, or making everyone’s head spin with esoteric facts and the rules of law. She’d been sympathetic and understanding when he’d told her about his previous arrest; however, she might not be happy if he wound up in jail again. He couldn’t take that risk. Daisy was fast becoming the most important thing in his life. He didn’t want to lose her again.

“Get the hell out.” His voice was as sharp as the knife in his pocket, and the contractors scurried away.

After they’d gone, and Jaxon had been settled in the back office with a soda and a snack, Liam sat on the worn bench by the door, his head in his hands.

“What was Brendan thinking?” he said to Joe, who had come out to join him. “It’s three weeks to my birthday. If I’m not married by then, the distillery is his, free and clear. I introduced him to Daisy and he didn’t even believe our relationship was real, so what’s the big rush?”

Joe leaned back on the bench beside him, his arms folded under his head. “He was here the other day with Lauren. She told me his company is in big trouble, and the news is going to hit the papers in the next few days. Apparently, the IRS found some anomalies during an audit and reported them to the regulators, who started an investigation. Turns out your dad and four of the directors—friends he’d appointed to the board—were involved in some kind of fraud that affected the shareholders. I don’t understand the legal stuff, but it’s big, Liam. We’re talking tens of millions of dollars. Lauren says Brendan didn’t know anything about it. That he’s barely been keeping his head above water just trying to fix the mess your dad left when he died. The regulators have frozen the company’s assets. He can’t pay his employees . . . It’s a mess.”

“So he thought the solution was to sell the distillery out from under me?” A knot of bitterness tightened inside him. “He’s no better than my dad.”

Joe shrugged. “Desperate people do desperate things. You’re planning to marry a girl you don’t love. Are you any different?”

“Yes.” He stared out over the sea of wildflowers dancing in the green fields around them. “I do love her. I always have.”

• 24 •

 Wednesday, 8:00 A.M.

 DAISY: Confirming Date #5. Thursday 6 p.m. The Rose & Thorn Pub, The Mission District. Objective: mix with colleagues, meet your cousin, Ethan, and your bar friends.

 LIAM: What do you mean “mix with colleagues”? I thought it was a date.

 DAISY: It’s a date with friends.

* * *

• • •

“LEFT hand like it’s moving to the side and right hand like you’re combing your hair. Bend your leg to the side and then turn.” Daisy demonstrated the Bollywood dance routine for twenty eager young dancers in front of the mirror. Twice a week after work, she taught Bollywood dancing at the neighborhood recreation center with Mehar Auntie. It was always the highlight of her week.

“My turn,” Mehar Auntie said. “Cue the music.”

Daisy walked to the side of the room to adjust the sound system and spotted Layla in the doorway.

“I’m beginning to regret asking Mehar Auntie to teach Sam and me a few routines for our sangeet after your class,” Layla murmured. “She always steals the show.”

Daisy laughed. “I’m always surprised she lets the girls dance at all.”

“You haven’t answered my messages for the last few days.”

Daisy practiced the next few steps of “Dola Re Dola,” the dance she was teaching next, turning away so Layla couldn’t see her face. “I’ve been busy at work. I stayed late a few nights helping Zoe and Mia put together their pitch for a rebrand. Josh still isn’t sure about the project manager promotion, so I’ve been going over Andrew’s planning sheets with him. And Tyler wanted someone to go with him to meet investors in case this thing with Liam falls through, and then—”

“I know what you’re doing,” Layla said. “Your feeble attempts to distract me won’t work. Do you think I’m not going to mention the fact that you had sex with Liam? Your FAKE fiancé?”

“Oh.” Daisy sighed. “That.”

Layla folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, that.”

Daisy twirled around, as much to practice her dance steps as to avoid Layla’s stern glare. “You could be a little more supportive. I had a dry spell after Orson, and the sex with Liam was amazing. AMAZING. I’ve never had sex like that before. In fact, I don’t even think what I was doing before was actual sex because no furniture got broken, I never came multiple times, and the things he can do with his tongue . . .”