"So," I say, because the silence is starting to feel dangerous. "Tell me something about you that doesn't involve horses or investments."
Charlie leans back on his barstool and thinks for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting. "All right. You want to hear about my duck situation?"
"Your what?"
"My sister Rachel surprised me with six ducks last week." He shakes his head, chuckling. "Evie, my niece, saw them at the feed store and fell in love. When they brought them home, Mason put his foot down because they already have enough livestock at Lazy Fork. Rachel, being Rachel, decided the obvious solution was to bring them to Twin Oaks while I wasn’t there."
I stare at him, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "She just gave you ducks. With no warning."
"No warning whatsoever. These ducks have all had their wings clipped, so they need more than just a pond. They need shelter, fencing to keep the coyotes out, the whole setup." Charlie's expression is pure affection mixed with exasperation. "So now I've got a landscaper building an enclosure behind the barns, complete with a little pond, because Evie named every single one of the damned things and informed me very seriously that if I give away her ducks, she will never forgive me. She's three."
I hold the laugh back, pressing my lips together. "What did your foreman think about that?"
"Wade told me I was on my own and that he doesn't do poultry." Charlie's grin widens. "Gran, on the other hand, thinks they're delightful. She's already picked a favorite and sneaks it treats when she thinks no one's looking."
The laugh comes out before I can catch it. Charlie lights up in response, and for a moment we’re just two people sharing the same ridiculous moment, with no barriers or complications.
"That's the best thing I've heard all week," I tell him, wiping my eyes.
"I figured you'd appreciate the chaos."
"I love ducks." The admission slips out before I can filter it. "I've always wanted one. When I was a kid, my mom took me to apark that had a duck pond, and I was obsessed. I begged her for one every birthday until I was ten."
"Did she ever get you one?"
"We lived in an apartment. There was no room for animals." I shrug, but the memory is a warm one. "I used to save bread crusts and take them to the park every Saturday. The ducks knew me on sight."
Charlie's expression softens, and he leans forward on the bar. "You should come out to the ranch and see them sometime. Once the landscaper finishes the enclosure, they'll need visitors who actually like ducks. Wade's been referring to them exclusively as 'the poultry problem' and I don't think that's good for their self-esteem."
I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is spreading. "I'll think about it."
"That's your favorite phrase."
"It's a perfectly reasonable response."
"It's a stalling tactic and we both know it." His tone is light, his eyes dancing with humor.
I take a sip of my water and say nothing, which is its own kind of answer.
We return to the production room and start transferring wine into clean barrels together. I walk him through the siphon as we go, keeping a hand near the line while he holds it steady. He picks it up quickly, falling into rhythm with me without getting in the way. I notice the way his forearms flex as he works, the way his attention locks in when he concentrates.
When I glance at the clock, it's nearly noon. I've kept him an hour past the time Isabelle suggested, and I haven't once wished he would leave.
"That's probably enough for today," I say, pulling off my apron and hanging it on the hook. "You'll want to let everything settle before we get into blending ratios next time."
"I've got a full week at the ranch, but I'll be back next Monday morning if that works for you."
"Of course. Give me your number so I can text you if anything changes with the schedule."
He rattles it off without hesitation, and I punch it into my contacts, telling myself it's strictly professional. He pulls out his own phone. "And yours? In case I'm running late and need to let you know."
I give it to him, and the small exchange feels significant.
"Thank you, Sunny. I mean it. I learned more today than I expected."
"You're a quick study," I admit.
He heads for the door, and I think the day is over, that I've survived several hours of Charlie Hayden in my space without embarrassing myself. Then he pauses with his hand on the doorframe and turns back.
