"Understood." Charlie unfolds his arms and closes the distance between us, and his hand comes up to cup the side of my face. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and the gentleness of the gesture makes my breath catch. "You don't have to convince me of anything, Sunny. I trust you. If this guy is a problem, we'll deal with it. And if he's not, then he's not worth the space he's taking up this morning."
My eyes sting, and I blink hard against it, because Sunny Reese doesn't cry over breakfast, and she certainly doesn't cry because a man said something kind and meant it. But the truth is that nobody has ever saidI trust youto me with that much weight behind it.
"He's not a problem," I answer, and my voice comes out stronger. "He's an inconvenience. I don't know why I haven't blocked his number yet."
"Then he can be inconvenient somewhere else." Charlie's thumb sweeps my cheek one more time, and then his hand drops to my hip, and the heat of his palm through the thin cotton of my t-shirt brings me back to the present, to this kitchen and the man in front of me.
I lean into him, pressing my face into the curve of his shoulder. His arms wrap around me, and for a long moment we stand there, my hands flat against his bare skin, and his chin resting on the top of my head. The phone on the counter might as well be on another planet.
"For the record," I say, my voice muffled against him, "I'm not going to answer that text."
"I didn't ask."
"I know." I pull back and look up at him. "I want you to know that whatever this is between us, I'm all in. I'm not hedging."
His hazel eyes twinkle in a way that I'm starting to recognize as the look he gets when I've surprised him, when I've offered something he was prepared to wait for and didn't expect to receive. "Sunny Reese, that might be the best thing anyone's ever said to me."
The way he says it, calmly and so sincerely, melts my insides and I automatically deflect. "Don't get used to me being this forthcoming. It's just the post-sex endorphins and coffee."
His laugh fills my kitchen the same way it echoes throughout the production room, rich and genuine and impossible to resist. "I'll take it however it comes."
I step back and pick up the phone. Without reading the rest of the message, I delete it and block Derek's number. The whole thing takes three seconds, and the relief that floods through me is so immediate and complete that I wonder why I didn't do thisyears ago. Charlie watches me do it, and he doesn't comment, but the quiet approval in his expression tells me he understands the gesture for what it is.
"I need to shower before work," I tell him. "You're welcome to the bathroom after me, or you can head home. Whatever works."
"I'll head back to Twin Oaks and deal with the inevitable interrogation." He pulls his henley from the chair where he draped it and tugs it over his head. "Gran is going to have a field day."
I snort. "Your grandmother is an interesting lady."
"She's going to be insufferable." He grins, rumpled and barefoot and completely at home in my space. I realize I don't want him to leave. "She's probably already planning the wedding registry."
"We've been on two dates, Charlie."
"Try telling Gran that." He crosses the kitchen and slides his hand along my jaw, tipping my face up. The kiss he gives me is slow, deliberate, and so full of promise it makes my knees wobble. "I'll see you at the winery tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock sharp."
"Don't be late."
"Sunshine, I have never once been late for you." He presses one more kiss to my forehead, quick and sure, and then he's gathering his boots from the hallway and his phone from the nightstand, and I listen to his footsteps move through my small house.
The front door opens and closes, and his truck engine turns over in the street. My coffee has gone cold in my hands, and the morning sun is on the tile floor beneath my bare feet. But I don't care.
I rinse the mug and set it in the rack, then pad down the hallway to the bathroom. The shower runs hot, and the waterworks the pleasant ache from my muscles while my mind circles through the day’s tasks. The new white blend needs attention, the production schedule has to be adjusted, and Diego wants to discuss the upcoming harvest timeline. All of it will be there when I get to the winery.
Underneath the lists and logistics, there's a change—a sense of contentment that’s new, as if a new door has opened. I told Charlie Hayden I'm all in, and the words didn't seem reckless or wishful. They just felt right.
The face in the foggy mirror looks the same, my blonde hair darkened with water, blue eyes that never quite switch off. But something seems different, as if I’m seeing myself with new eyes. I almost don't recognize me.
I get dressed, braid my hair, and grab my keys. The winery is waiting, and tomorrow, so is Charlie Hayden. I already can't wait.
Chapter 10
Charlie
It's been less than twenty-four hours since I left Sunny Reese's bed, and I'm crouched beside the duck pond at seven in the morning, taking photos of Gerald.
Yes, I'm a thirty-five-year-old man squatting in damp grass, angling my phone for the perfect shot of a duck on a pink bridge. This is what I've become. But Sunny loved the last Gerald photo I sent her, and that is a currency worth more than gold, or any embarrassing early morning photography session.
Gerald's perched precariously on the pink bridge with his wings half-spread and his bill tipped toward the sky, looking so absurdly majestic that I can't not capture it. My knees pop as I shift for a better angle. I hit send with the same stupid grin I've been wearing every time I think about her, which is roughly every four minutes.
