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She filled Leo in on how Sophie was doing, and their plan to take over the fundraiser. Alana was not surprised when Leo said he would handle the rest of harvest prep without her so she could focus on the campaign.

“But that’s unfair,” Alana replied. “You shouldn’t have to do all the work on your own.”

Leo grasped her hand and lifted it to his mouth, then kissed her palm. “I’ve managed the harvest alone for the past three years. I can do it again.”

She frowned, ignoring her body’s reaction to his touch, the vibrating heat in her hand.

He squeezed it. “Alana, if we don’t pull this off, there won’t be another harvest.”

He was right, and that mere truth snapped her into action.

During the days that followed, Alana caught as much content as she could. She filmed a timelapse video of the sun rising above the land and the lake, the morning dew drying on the grapevines as the sun burst forward. She recorded a day in the life of working on the farm, from her coffee to the fields, then family dinner and watching the sunset on the porch with tea. She selfishly caught videos of Bear, which Marien’s online followers loved. But they didn’t love them as much as they loved catching glimpses of Leo. Especially if the videos involved them arguing at all.

Anytime he saw her with her phone propped up in her hand, he argued with her about something. The proper Brix levels of the grapes. The number of workers they planned on hiring for hand harvesting the clusters. Whether they would do a whole-cluster press or destem the grapes first. He even argued with her about Bear and how his dog was continually spoiled by her, and if she kept feeding him treats, he was going to get fat.

“Aw, but he’s a growing boy!” she’d cooed, moving her phone so the camera got a glimpse of her scratching Bear’s head, to his utter delight.

“Bear is middle-aged,” Leo deadpanned. “He’s not growing anymore.”

Alana noticed the tease in his smile, hidden by the camera. He was enjoying it.

When she’d moved her phone to face him, his smile fell into a deep, grumpy frown. He was good at this.

The internet ate up their banter, and within days, their following had doubled. So had their fundraising numbers, which were tipping at the halfway point.

Behind the scenes, no one had any idea of what was happening—the true story, anyway. Their relationship seemed hostile online, but when the camera was off, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

Leo had an inclination for pulling her into dark, hidden corners. He pressed her up whatever beam or tall structure was nearby and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. His hands were needy too. He touched any free skin he could get his hands on. Her exposed back, the curve of her neck, her upper thigh. Leo always kept clean after a day in the field, but sometimes she would find streaks of dirt in places he touched her. It should have bothered her, but it didn’t. Tiny marks of their land. Of him.

One afternoon when she retreated from the blazing sun into the shaded cool of the winery, a firm hand grasped her wrist and tugged her to a hidden corner behind one of the stainless-steel tanks. Leo folded his body around hers and kissed up and down her neck.

She grinned, slipping a hand under his shirt and tracing the dips and ridges of his abs. “Am I worthy enough for this to come off?” she asked with a sly smirk.

The left corner of his mouth lifted as he reached behind his back, fisted the fabric, and tore off his T-shirt. She stared at his toned chest and the tiny trail of hair down his lower center that tucked under his jeans.

Leo walked her father into the dark, down a hallway and toward the cellars where they stored hundreds of cases of wine. He cupped her cheeks and his fingers threaded through her hair as he tipped her face up to his. His warm lips moved on hers when he spoke. “You’ve always been worthy.”

He never pressed for more though. Alana could feel the ways he held himself back, even when his erection pressed hard against her hip, or his hands shook with desire. He was likely waiting for her to give him the go ahead, to take what he so desperately wanted. But something in her held her back. Told her to wait.

They continued to keep their relationship, or whatever was budding between the two of them, a secret. It was easy to do, given how everyone was far more concerned with Sophie than what was happening with Alana. Almost a week had gone by since Sophie’s party, and she remained sick in bed. Alana had managed to get her showering regularly and keeping some food down, but she was too sick to move or work normally around the farm. Otto took over Sophie’s responsibilities, tending to the goats and chickens and bees and patches of lavender, but without an end in sight, he grew increasingly worried.

When they hit the week mark, he announced he was taking her to the hospital.

“She doesn’t have a fever, but I’m afraid it could get worse,” he explained, packing a bag for her and himself. “She’s not retaining enough fluid.”

“I could take her,” Freya protested.

Otto shook his head. He was never the type of father to demand anything from his girls, but there was always a tone. When he needed to get his message across, he spoke in a way that made his decision clear and finite. “I need you to stay here,” he told her.

Freya hesitated, but Alana caught her hand and squeezed. She knew what that tone meant.

“We’ll stay,” Alana replied.

Otto nodded, then tossed Leo a set of house keys. “Take care of my girls, son. I’m not sure when we’ll be back.”

Leo nodded. He didn’t flinch. He took the bag from Otto’s hands and followed him out to the truck where Sophie was already waiting, fast asleep in the passenger seat.

It was dusk, but still light enough to get work done by the time they left. Except Alana didn’t have the stomach or heart to do anything. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table, fretting in silence.