He blinked. “No. Not at all. It’s…it’s lovely.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not much good with my hands. My work is nowhere near as good as the others’.”
“No?” He considered her for a moment longer than was comfortable. “Well, you’ve done good work for me.” He paused. “With your hands.”
He held the quilt, probably catching fibers on his rough skin and hating it. This had been the wrong thing to do. She wanted to continue working for him without more tension between them, but she’d gone and done this, which would only make things worse.
“Where would you recommend I put it?” he asked, looking…pleased, perhaps?
“I thought in your cabin. Wherever you spend the most time. You could use it if you ever got cold. Or not. If you don’t like it, you can give—”
“I like it.”
“You do?”
“Thank you, Abby. It’s…” He swallowed and looked away, his scar tight. “I’ll take it inside. In a bit.”
After a pause, Abby said, “I saw the vines. You’re done.”
He nodded.
“Must feel good.” The thought made her frantic, not just because she’d have no more work, but because this would be taken from her. This place, this man. What on earth would she do now?
She waited for a few seconds, breathing hard until he turned and flipped a switch, illuminating the large space they stood in. Tools hung on one wall—pruners like the ones he’d used for the past week, gloves, and other things that she couldn’t even begin to understand.
Behind him, at the far end of the barn, was a door—open and showing what looked like a scrap heap outside. Here, they stood in a room with big, metal tanks. It was massive and dark, even lit as it was. The tanks lined up like sentinels along one wall.
“Come,” he said, leading her through a door, which opened up to…
“Oh my…” She wished she had more words—better words—to describe this place.
The room was immense. One entire wall was made of glass—the long one, facing down the side of the mountain, almost overhanging the valley. She’d seen it from the outside and had wondered what this much glass would be like.
Inside, it was extraordinary. She’d never seen anything so expansive. Never. And the windows didn’t end at the wall. They continued up and bent to become the ceiling. It was the biggest, most open place she’d ever seen indoors. At the opposite end—yards and yards away—was an enormous fireplace made of stone. You could fit a person in there. You could fit a bear. The other wall held a long, empty bar. Beyond it was a room filled with wooden barrels. Everything was warm with wood and stone and so bright you could almost taste the light.
Her breath was audible in her ears, like someone else’s. Like putting her head underwater. Like looking so far out that you actually saw inside yourself. She didn’t wait for him to lead the way but walked ahead. Everything was muffled by the drowning of her mind, tamped down by the light and the view and the thin, thin air.
“What…what is this?” she asked.
“It was supposed to be the tasting room.”
“Was?”
“The previous owners. The couple who started the winery and planted the vineyard. They had plans.”
She shook her head. “Why did they leave? How could they leave this?”
“I don’t know. A death in the family is what the real estate agent said—an inheritance or someone to take care of? Although…” He trailed off, leaving a heavy weight hanging between them, drawing Abby’s attention back to him. Oh, his eyes. So blue in the setting sun, so pretty in that finely etched face. Something about the glass made the light in here brighter than outside. Sharper.
“Although?”
“I think it was you.”
“Me?” Abby said, instantly horrified.
His mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes softened, filling her middle with something squishy and good. “I wonder if perhaps they weren’t comfortable with their neighbors.”
“Ah.” She turned toward the view and took a dozen more steps into the room, her undivided attention on the glass that overlooked…everything. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
