Chapter 1
Charlie
The parking lot at Willow Sage Winery is packed. Cars fill every marked space, and a few have squeezed onto the gravel shoulder. I pull in and kill the engine, scanning the rows. Sedans, trucks, a couple of luxury SUVs that probably drove over from Austin.
A Wednesday afternoon shouldn't be this busy. Then again, I still don't know enough about tourist traffic in Stone Creek, or much about the wine business for that matter.
The stone building sprawls across the hillside ahead, weathered limestone and neat rows of grapevines bright green in the afternoon sun.
Gran's words from breakfast echo in my head. "Take your time with the tasting, Charles. Make sure you understandexactlywhat you're buying." She'd said it while buttering her toast, not even looking at me, like she was discussing the weather instead of orchestrating another of her matchmaking schemes.
I grab my hat from the passenger seat and step into the afternoon heat. My pulse kicks. Again. Only, Sunny had been in Austin the last time I was here, and I'd driven home with a case of wine and a hollow ache that had no business being there.Before that, I’d sat at the tasting room bar with Rachel and stared at Sunny through the production room glass the way a man dying of thirst watches water.
Third time's gotta be the charm. At least, that's what I'm telling myself as I cross the gravel lot with a paper-thin excuse to see her again. A couple passes me on the way out, flushed and laughing. I pull open the heavy wooden door and step inside.
The noise hits first. Voices layer over each other, mixing with laughter and the clink of glasses. Every stool at the bar is occupied with customers standing alongside and behind. More folks mill around the retail shelves examining bottles, charcuterie, and accessories.
To my left, the wall of glass reveals the massive stainless-steel tanks that dominate the space. I search the gaps between them for a blonde ponytail.
Nothing. The production room sits empty. My stomach drops.
I force myself to turn away and make my way toward the bar. Sunny could be in the back or not even working today. Maybe I drove all the way out here for four bottles of wine and nothing else, which would mean I'd have to manufacture another reason to come back.
Behind the bar, Tabitha moves between customers with impressive efficiency, pouring tastings and ringing up purchases, but her smile grows tighter with each new demand. She spots me through the crowd and waves me over.
"Charlie! Your grandmother's order is ready." She gestures helplessly at the crush of customers around her. "But I'm swamped. Can you give me ten minutes?"
"Take your time."
"Oh, and Sunny looked over the order when she got back from Austin. She swapped out the Tempranillo for a few Italian reds, said they'd pair better with the dinner menu." Tabitha'seyes sparkle with something that goes well beyond professional courtesy. "Those are her specialty, you know."
"So I've heard."
Tabitha glances at the order sheet again and her eyebrows lift. "Oh. Hang on." She's already turning toward the back hallway, raising her voice. "Sunny! I need you!"
"I'm in the middle of something!" The voice from the back is sharp enough to cut through every conversation in the tasting room, and my body goes still. I know that voice. I heard it on a dusty highway shoulder telling me to get lost and that she didn't need my help.
"I've got eight people waiting for tastings and a tour group coming in twenty minutes." Tabitha calls back. "I need help!"
Silence. Then footsteps… Sunny appears in the doorway, and the air leaves my lungs like someone just cinched a girth strap too tight across my midsection.
Her blonde hair is braided this time, with a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. A wine stain marks her left sleeve, and a smudge of something dark runs along her jaw. That deep blue gaze could cut glass, the same one that assessed me on Highway 290 as if I were a complication she didn't have time for.
Her hands are already gesturing toward the hallway, ready to argue her way out of whatever Tabitha wants. Then she spots me at the bar and freezes.
Her eyes go wide for half a second, the same flash of recognition I caught through the glass wall on my first visit. A sharp breath moves her shoulders, and then the warmth vanishes as her gaze narrows.
But I notice the recognition before her guard slams back into place. And that half-second is all I need. I'm not the only one feeling this.
"You."
The single word carries enough irritation for a full sentence.
"Me," I agree, letting my grin spread the way it wants to. There's no point hiding it. "We keep running into each other,Sunny."
Her mouth tightens, and it might be the fact that I know her name now, or the teasing way I said it. "Tabitha, I have four barrels to rack this afternoon. I don't have time for this."
"Please." Tabitha is juggling three wine bottles in one arm and a bottle opener in the other. "His grandmother called twice about this. She wants the winemaker's opinion on the pairings before she finalizes the dinner menu."
