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Leo smirked, then took a long stride forward, the tips of his boots knocking her own. He held up his hand, then curled his pinky around hers. “I swear it.”

She kissed her hand. “Good.”

He mimicked her movements slowly, kissing his hand as well. “This might be the oddest business deal I’ve ever made.”

“I’d say it’s more like a blood pact. Leave the business deals to Freya.”

“Fine by me. All her money jargon goes right over my head.”

“Welcome to the family. She’s always been like that.”

To her surprise, Leo smirked. Their hands were still locked in a pinky promise, their bodies close. Her heart hammered in her chest again, the image of his flexed biceps flashing in her mind.

She cleared her throat and stepped away, breaking contact. “Should we get back to work?”

“I have a request, actually.”

She arched a brow. “Okaaay…”

“I want you to taste the vintage variation.”

She froze. “Our wines?”

“Yes.” He scratched his beard. “If we’re going to work together, I want you to understand what I made the past few years. I want your thoughts before we hop into a new vintage together.”

“Together?” she teased.

“Yes, well, if you’re sticking around, I might as well get used to it.” He took a step backward, then turned. “But as the head winemaker. You can be the assistant.”

Her whole body froze. “I don’t think I can do that.”

He twirled around, looking embarrassed. “I’m kidding, you’re obviously not the assistant⁠—”

“No, I mean, taste the vintage variation.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I haven’t had our wine since Mom died.”

Leo hesitated. “I understand that. But eventually you’ll have to, yeah?”

She didn’t respond.

“Alana, I haven’t lost someone like you have, but I know that gluing yourself in the past is not the way forward.”

“I feel like—” She swallowed, surprised she was about to admit this. “I feel like I’m betraying her somehow. This vineyard was ours, together. I can’t imagine doing it without her.”

“Do you really think she would feel that way? If you said that to her, do you think she would feel betrayed?”

She swallowed, then slowly shook her head.

“I think she would want you to care about her legacy, to keep something alive that she worked so hard to build.”

Legacy. There was that word again. Freya blamed her for not caring about legacy, but if anything, Alana cared in a dangerous way. She cared so much that she’d run from it in hopes of numbing the pain. Yet as she stood here, in the field she loved so much, she was overwhelmed by how much her mother’s legacy meant to her.

“I don’t want to move on and forget her,” she confessed.

“You won’t. You’ll carry her with you everywhere instead. Bring her spirit into every single piece of what you do.”

She looked down at her hands, dirty and red from working. Her shoulders felt heavy, not just from the time spent in the fields, but from carrying so much for so long.

“Okay.” She straightened and peered up at him. “You’re right. Let me taste your wine.”