CHAPTER THREE
ROWAN
As I gazed upon the land I'd bought five years ago, I never once had the thought to myself: Let's make this a wedding venue.
"It's perfect," my best friend, Alejandro Perez, said. He gestured to the expanse in front of us. "How can you not see it?"
I frowned. I'd bought this piece of land located north of Santa Clarita, some forty miles from downtown Los Angeles. It was wide-open country—literally the middle of f*****g nowhere—and it showed. Where I wasn't growing orange trees, it was open, dry fields. I could see a few cows roaming in the distance.
"I really doubt Em is going to be excited to get married in a random-ass field," I said dryly.
A cow mooed, as if agreeing with me.
Alejo, being Alejo, wasn't listening to me. I'd known him since we'd been kids, and h
