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Del grins. “I’m not worried. I’m just curious as to who claimed your wish from Season’s Greedings.”

“You’re telling me,” I mutter. Days have gone by, and nothing.

The website still says Fulfillment in Progress.

I guess maybe this kind of thing takes a while? Or it was a scam after all.

Either way, I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to focus on this festival.

And on not thinking about the hot vineyard owner who will be greeting me there.

Gabe’s brown eyes and soot-colored lashes have been in my mind ever since I delivered those scones to him. He’s wide, although not as wide as Marcus. Bigger than Cole. A little shorter, maybe.

He still towers over me, probably six feet at least. I wonder what that salt-and-pepper beard of his would feel like if he kissed me.

I flush all over.

“What are you thinking about?” Del asks, looking at me curiously.

“Nothing. Just my wishes,” I lie.

What I’m thinking about are the three silver foxes I’ve met this week.

And how maybe they wouldn’t be affecting me so much if my wishes were granted.

“Been thinking about mine, too. If yours works,” Del points out.

“What are you gonna wish for?”

She smirks, putting a finger with a black painted nail over her mouth.

“Can’t tell or it won’t come true.”

I laugh and get into the car, waving goodbye as I back out onto the highway. The rain stopped in the wee hours of the morning, and the forecast is good for the weekend.

Thank goodness.

Between the payment for running the kitchen and the business that the festival will bring in, things are looking up.

I called and told my mother last night.

Maria Reyes has never been particularly supportive of my bakery, but she was excited to hear that I’d be working the festival. It was a pleasant surprise, hearing her say (without really saying it) that she’s proud of me.

“You make an excellent pastry, mija. That’s never been your problem.”

Then, of course, she’d gone into a diatribe of what was my problem, but still. It’s a win.

I’d driven through the vineyard before, to get to Gabe’s cabin, but it was storming and the sky was dark.

Today, on a sunny day, I can’t help but be awed by the beauty of the grapevines, the lush lawns.

The rows climb a sunny, south-facing slope, with pine-covered mountains rising behind them.

Maples line the drive in shades of orange and red, and pumpkins flank the entrance. All that’s missing is hot cider.

I slowly pull up to a strip of buildings, assuming it’s the entrance.

I’m not sure where to park. I need to unload all my things. I hum, parking and then walking up to the entrance.