"I know." She tucks her face against my neck, and her breath is warm against my skin. "Derek loves to gloat. It makes him feelpowerful. But Evan doesn't deserve to be a pawn in Derek's petty games."
I hold her and let the quiet settle over us, my hand moving up and down her arm in measured strokes. After a few minutes, the tension in her body loosens, and her breathing evens out against my collarbone.
"Thank you," she murmurs against my skin.
"For what?"
"For not telling me how to feel about it. For just being here."
I draw her closer, settling my chin against the crown of her head as my gaze wanders the living room. Books are stacked on the side table, framed photos lining the wall—details I haven't stepped close enough to take in yet. It's only a small glimpse into her world, and already I crave more.
But beneath the peaceful stillness, a thread of unease winds through me that I can't quite shake. Derek is buying a winery that means something to Sunny, and he called to make sure she knew it.
Sunny's breathing deepens, her body heavy and trusting against mine. I ease out from under her and scoop her up, blanket and all, and she murmurs something against my neck as I carry her down the hallway to the bedroom. She doesn't wake when I settle her onto the mattress.
She curls into me as I slide in beside her. My arm wraps around her waist, and I lie there in the dark, turning the situation over in my mind.
What Sunny and I have is real, and it's worth protecting. But Derek found a way around her block, and he's circling something that matters to Sunny more than she let on tonight. A man like that doesn't make one call and walk away.
I hold Sunny closer and press my lips to her hair, breathing in her sweet scent and warmth and everything I'm not willing to let anyone take from me.
Whatever Derek has planned, he'll have to come through me first.
Chapter 13
Sunny
Tabitha has outdone herself with the tasting room. She's transformed the space from its usual rustic charm into something polished and professional, with linen-draped tables arranged in a wide arc around the bar, and printed menus describing the wines. Additional bar tables decorated with votive candles fill in the back, and the afternoon light through the tall windows makes the whole room glow.
Isabelle is at the bar with her clipboard in one hand and phone in the other. Her dark hair is swept into a low chignon that makes her look every inch the sharp businesswoman she is. She's been checking the guest list against RSVPs since noon, and the smile she's been fighting all morning finally breaks through as I pass by her.
"We have forty-two confirmed," she says. "Charlie’s attorney, god bless him, came through with twenty-five of those. If even a handful of them sign distribution agreements, we'll replace what Hill Country dropped and then some."
"They'll sign," I tell her, and the confidence in my voice surprises me. Four days ago, the thought of standing in front of a room full of buyers made my palms sweat. I've never been theone who works the room. I belong in the production room with my hands on the barrels.
But the tasting lineup I built is the best work I've done at Willow Sage, and today I plan to prove it. Every selection on that menu was chosen to tell a story about this land and what it can produce, and I've rehearsed the pairings until I could recite them in my sleep.
Tabitha catches my eye and gives me a thumbs-up, her earrings swinging as she arranges the last row of glasses. Charlie and Diego are outside on the terrace, helping a pair of staff members set up overflow seating.
Charlie strolls in, and my mouth goes dry. The man could stop traffic and not even notice. He's dressed in dark jeans and a blue polo emblazoned with the winery logo, his boots polished, his dark brown hair combed back from his forehead. He scans the room, finds me by the bar, and flashes that mega-watt grin, kicking my pulse up a notch.
He crosses over and leans close enough that his shoulder brushes mine. "You look like a woman who's about to conquer a room."
"I look like a woman who's been polishing glasses since seven this morning and forgot to eat lunch." I straighten the last menu card on the station. "But thank you."
"I brought you a granola bar." He produces one from his pocket, and I take it with a laugh.
"You think of everything, Hayden."
"I think of you, Sunshine. The rest follows." He says it easily, and the simplicity of it means more than any grand gesture. "Let’s go into town for dinner after this."
"You mean I don’t have to cook? You’re on, Hayden."
His grin widens. "It’s a plan then." He brushes his knuckles against the back of my hand, light enough that no one else wouldnotice, and heads for the terrace. I watch him go with the granola bar still unopened in my grip.
My smile fades faster than it should, because the moment he's out of sight, Derek's voice from Sunday night replays in my head.
The knot in my chest hasn't loosened since that call. I still catch myself reaching for my phone to call Evan, then stop myself because I don't know what I'd say. Evan deserves better than Derek's manipulation, and Derek knows exactly what buying Beaumont Crest does to me. I suspect that's the whole point.
