Through all of it, I can’t take my eyes off Sunny. The way she listens more than she talks, and how her observations, when they come, are sharp and funny and aimed with precision. How she leans forward when the conversation turns to the winery, or to the valley, or to anything she cares about.
After dessert, a pecan pie with bourbon whipped cream that makes Diego close his eyes in reverence, the group spills out onto the front porch. The evening has cooled just enough to be comfortable, and Oscar appears with coffee and a last round of wine.
Goodnights start making the rounds. Charlotte gathers her purse and promises to call. Lila hugs everyone twice beforeheading for the steps. Diego lingers over his coffee while Isabelle slips off the porch ahead of him, already halfway to the drive. Beau falls into step beside her, saying something low that has her shooting him a glare.
Rachel rises more slowly, and Mason is there without a word, steady and sure. She lets him help her up, her hand lingering in his for a beat before they head for the steps together. They pause by the truck, talking quietly, her smile soft as Mason brushes a hand along her back before opening the door for her.
Diego finally heads down after them, catching up just as Isabelle reaches the passenger side of his truck. Beau peels off toward his own, but not before tossing one last comment over his shoulder that earns him a sharp reply.
Engines turn over one by one, headlights sweeping across the drive as trucks and cars pull away. I end up on the front steps, watching the last set of taillights disappear while the night settles over the valley.
Sunny appears beside me with her keys in hand.
"Leaving already?"
"I have to be at the winery by six tomorrow. Barrel racking waits for no woman." She turns to face me. The porch light plays across her face, and she looks different from the woman who arrived two hours ago. Softer, less guarded, like the evening smoothed a few of her sharper edges.
"I'm glad you came."
"Your grandmother didn’t give me much of a choice." A half-smile tugs at her mouth, like she’s not exactly complaining. "She’s something else."
"She liked you. I could tell."
"Pretty sure it was the wine. There’s a difference."
"You’re supposed to call her Gran now. That’s not something she offers lightly."
Sunny’s expression shifts, something unreadable moving behind her eyes. "This whole evening was wonderful." Her gaze drifts past me, catching on the light spilling through the dining room windows. "I’m not used to this."
"Dinner parties?"
"People wanting me around for something other than what I can do for them."
The words hit quietly, and the weight behind them tells me more about Sunny Reese than anything she's said before. I want to ask what she means. I want to know who made her think her company wasn't reason enough for an invitation. But pushing will only make her rebuild the walls that took all evening to lower.
"I'd like to see you again," I say instead. "Not at the winery and not because Gran orchestrated it. Just us."
She studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching my face for something I hope she finds. "Is that what rich horse breeders do? Wine and dine a girl and then ask for a date at the front door?"
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a question."
"Then my answer is yes. That's exactly what I’m doing when I meet someone worth asking twice."
Her breath catches, a tiny hitch that she covers by tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll think about it."
"Take your time." I hold her gaze, letting her see that I mean it. "I'm not going anywhere."
She stares at me for one more second and then walks down the porch steps. At the bottom, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder. "Your chef is talented, by the way. That risotto was worth the drive alone."
"I'll tell Chef Delany."
"Tell your grandmother. She's the one who planned the menu." Sunny's smile reaches her eyes for the first time all night, full and unguarded and gone almost as soon as it appears. "Goodnight, Charlie."
"Goodnight, Sunny."
I watch her truck pull down the drive and disappear onto the main road. Behind me, the front door opens and Gran's footsteps cross the porch. She settles into the rocking chair with a satisfied sigh.
