I laugh, and give the courtyard one last look, the lavender beds and the flagstone and the old oak bench where I used to sit.
The ride back to The Bordeaux House winds through vineyards and rolling hills that look like a postcard from someone else's life. The scenery is stunning, but I barely see it. My mind is already in the production room at Willow Sage, on the porch at Twin Oaks, in the arms of a man who told me he wasn't going anywhere and meant it.
Evan pulls up to the hotel and I give him one more hug.
The anger at Derek has settled into something colder and more resolute. He manipulated Evan, and tried to corner me, just to close a deal on a winery he doesn’t care about. Derek treating Evan's legacy with such disregard makes my jaw clench until my teeth ache.
But anger is not what drives me toward the lobby entrance. I told Evan the truth on that bench beneath the oak, and it set something loose inside me. I need to go home. I need Charlie. And if I have to book a red-eye to get there, that is exactly what I plan to do.
Chapter 17
Sunny
The Bordeaux House lobby is quiet when I push through the front door, the soft lighting and murmur of a corner fountain are the only things greeting me. I'm halfway to the elevator when I hear the front desk clerk say, "And your name, sir?"
"Charlie Hayden, ma'am."
I freeze in an instant. That deep voice—low and sexy, the one I've been aching to hear—wraps around me.
I spin to find Charlie at the reception desk, his jaw shadowed with stubble. There's a worn edge to him that suggests a lack of sleep. A leather bag sits at his feet.
"Charlie," I cry. His name comes out louder than I intend, raw enough to make the desk clerk look up.
I cross the lobby at a pace that's just short of running and throw myself at him. He catches me, one arm hooking around my waist and the other hand cradling the back of my head. I press my face into his neck and breathe him in. Warm skin and worn cotton, familiar enough to make my throat tighten. My fingers twist into the back of his shirt and hold on.
"What are you doing here?" My voice is muffled against his collar. As I cling to him, the knot in my chest finally releases.
"I was a complete mess in Fort Worth." His mouth presses against my temple. "Mason finally got tired of me and told me to get on a plane. I was in the air before I could talk myself out of it." His arms tighten. "I needed to see you, Sunny."
I draw back and study his face. His hazel eyes are tired as if he hasn’t slept well, and the lines around his mouth are deeper than they were when I left. But the way he looks at me hasn't changed, as if I'm the only thing that matters.
"You don't need that room," I tell him.
His brows lift. "No?"
"You're staying with me." I take his hand and turn to the desk clerk, who has the good grace to look busy with her keyboard. "We're in room 314."
"Of course, ma'am." The clerk smiles and turns back to her screen.
Charlie grabs his bag and follows me to the elevator. The doors close, and the second we're alone, his lips find mine—urgent and hungry, his hand fisting in my hair and his mouth hard against mine like two days apart was way too long. I kiss him back, tasting coffee and determination, and when the elevator opens on the third floor, neither of us wants to let go.
The room is small and immaculate, with a window that overlooks a row of Sonoma vineyards going amber in the early evening light. Charlie drops his bag by the door and turns to face me, the intensity behind his expression telling me he didn't fly here to make small talk.
I sit on the bed and pull my legs up, tucking one foot beneath me. "I spent the day at Beaumont Crest. Evan and I talked for hours."
Charlie lowers himself into the chair next to the bed, his elbows on his knees. "Tell me everything."
So I do—Evan's apology, the tour, the conversation on the bench under the old oak. All of it.
Charlie listens without interrupting. His jaw tightens when I describe Derek's manipulation, and his hands flex against his knees, but he doesn't cut in.
"I turned it down, Charlie. Told him Willow Sage is my home and that wasn't changing. Evan respected it. He's walking away from the deal and finding another buyer."
"Good. Because what I found out confirms everything you just said." Charlie exhales through his nose. "Their visit at our tasting never sat right with me, so I hired a private investigator to dig into Derek and Evan before I left Fort Worth."
I blink at him. "You hired a private investigator?"
"I needed to know what we were dealing with." He meets my gaze, unapologetic. "Derek's trust fund has performance conditions. He has to prove he can run a legitimate business or his parents will cut him off." Charlie shakes his head. "They issued him a formal warning four months ago, Sunny. The man has a string of failures behind him. Beaumont Crest was his last shot, and the only reason anyone took it seriously was because Evan's name was attached to it."
