"I'm aware. But Gran would shoot me if she found out I didn't open doors for you, and I'd rather not test her aim."
That earns me another laugh, and she takes my hand as she steps down from the cab. Her fingers linger in mine for a second longer than necessary before she lets go.
Das Edelgarten sits in a converted old stone house with arched windows and warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. Inside, the space is elegant without being fussy, with dark wood,exposed brick, and white linen tablecloths. The hostess seats us at a corner table where the candlelight plays off the walls and the noise from the main dining room fades to a pleasant murmur.
Sunny settles into her chair and runs her fingertips along the menu. "This is one of my favorite restaurants," she says, and the admission comes with the same careful weight she gives every personal detail, like she's testing whether it's safe to share. "I came here once, years ago, not long after I started at the winery. Isabelle brought me to celebrate my first vintage."
"That sounds like Isabelle."
"She ordered champagne and a schnitzel the size of a serving platter, and by the end of the night she'd told me her entire family history back to her great-grandparents." Sunny's expression softens at the memory. "That was the night I realized I wasn't just an employee to her. She treated me like family before I'd done anything to earn it."
"Some people don't need you to earn it. They just decide."
Her gaze meets mine across the candlelight, and the vulnerability behind her eyes grabs my attention. "That hasn't always been my experience."
I want to ask who taught her that care came with conditions. But the waiter arrives with water and a wine list, and the moment passes. Sunny takes the wine list from him before I can reach for it, scanning it with a practiced eye.
"Do you trust me?" she asks, looking up from the list.
"With my life."
"I meant with the wine order." She tells the waiter something about a particular German Riesling that I don't entirely follow, and when the bottle arrives she swirls her glass with the same careful authority I've watched her use at the winery.
We order, and our conversation drifts naturally. She asks more about the ranch, and I tell her about the stock show Mason and I are attending. She tells me about a new white wine she'sbeen experimenting with, and the way her eyes sparkle when she talks makes me want to sit here all night and listen.
Somewhere between the appetizer and the main course, the banter finds its edge.
"You know, for someone who tried to get rid of me every time I showed up at the winery, you're being awfully pleasant tonight," I say, leaning back in my chair.
"Don't get used to it. This is a temporary ceasefire, not a peace treaty."
"What are your terms for a permanent agreement?"
"I haven't decided yet. I'm still evaluating the opposition." She lifts her glass and studies me over the rim, her gaze sharp with humor. "So far the intelligence report is inconclusive."
"What would it take to tip the verdict in my favor?"
"Keep making me laugh. That's working better than it should."
I file that away and grin. "Noted."
The main course arrives, and for a few minutes we're quiet as we eat. The food is good enough that Sunny closes her eyes on the first bite and makes a sound that shoots heat straight down my spine.
"Good?" I manage.
"Exceptional." She opens her eyes and catches me staring. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the most interesting thing in this restaurant."
"You are."
She huffs and shakes her head, but the flush on her cheeks gives her away. "You know what your problem is, Hayden? You're too good to be true." She says it lightly, wrapped in the dry humor she uses to keep the world at arm's length. But underneath the tone, there's a real question.
I set my fork down and hold her gaze. "No, I'm a man who works too much, takes on projects my sister rightfully calls impulsive, and is a doormat because I apparently can't refuse a three-year-old who wants a pink bridge for ducks." I lean forward. "But I'm very real, Sunny. And very interested in you. That part isn't going to change."
Her breath catches, and for a moment the restaurant noise falls away and it's just the two of us and the candlelight and the honesty sitting between us on the white tablecloth. She swallows, and her fingers tighten on the stem of her wine glass.
