“I have time.” He stepped closer and held out his hand. “Why don’t we go have that picnic first? I know the perfect spot.”
Hannah stared at his outstretched hand. Such a simple gesture, yet it felt monumental.
She knew, with sudden, startling clarity, that if she placed hers in his, something would shift. She would set something in motion that she might not be able to stop.
The question wasn’t whether she should.
It was whether she wanted to.
Her fingers hovered over his palm. This was the moment... the choice. She could maintain distance, keep things casual and uncomplicated. Or she could take his hand and acknowledge whatever this connection between them was becoming.
Hannah slipped her hand into his. “Lead the way,” she said, her voice softer and more breathless than she’d intended.
Caleb’s fingers closed around hers, and his smile deepened, reaching his eyes with an intensity that made her heart stutter. The simple contact of skin against skin sent a current throughher body that had nothing to do with static electricity. And just like that, she knew she was lost.
If not forever, then for this afternoon.
And she was more than okay with that.
In fact, she intended to embrace it. To enjoy it. To let herself have this moment.
To embrace being here, in this place, a place that had stirred a yearning she’d kept carefully contained for years. A longing for freedom. From worry. From planning for every possible outcome. From looking out for herself because no one else ever had.
They walked back toward the truck together, the space between them charged in a way that made her keenly aware of every step, every brush of air against her skin. Before letting go, Caleb gave her hand a small squeeze, deliberate and gentle, and then released her to retrieve the picnic basket from the back.
Hannah flexed her fingers, the ghost of his touch lingering on her skin. When he closed the truck door and offered his hand again, she took it without hesitation.
They wove through the rows of vines, hand in hand, the scent of grapes and warm earth surrounding them. Hannah ran her free hand along the leaves, marveling at their texture.
The path climbed gradually, the view widening with every step until the valley spread out below them.
“It’s breathtaking from up here,” she murmured.
“It gets better,” Caleb promised, tugging her gently forward.
They climbed higher, then the terrain shifted. Trees closed in around them, the light dappled and cool, and she heard the soft trickle of water ahead.
They emerged beside a narrow stream, sunlight flashing over its surface as it slipped over smooth stones. Caleb set the basketdown and pulled out a blanket, shaking it out before laying it carefully on the grass. Hannah watched his movements, struck by the effortless grace of this large man performing such a simple, domestic task.
They sat, knees brushing, and together unpacked the remnants of lunch from the restaurant. The food smelled rich and comforting, familiar and indulgent all at once.
Caleb lifted the bottle of wine, glancing at her. “Shall I open this? Or there’s water if you prefer.”
She smiled, pleased that he remembered her earlier words. Pleased, too, by the pause, the unspoken choice he offered her.
“Wine,” she said. “Please.”
He pulled the cork and poured the wine into two glasses, handing one to her with an ease that made the moment feel natural rather than ceremonial.
Hannah lifted the glass and inhaled. The aroma was bright and warm, as if someone had managed to bottle sunlight itself.
She took a sip.
And smiled.
Yes. This Hannah liked wine.
And she liked Caleb.
