Chapter Eight
Griffin
The sleek glass offices of Rhodes Select Imports felt like a different world from the dust and heat of Foxfire Valley. I sat across from Aunt Elise's polished desk, watching her manicured fingers tap against the gleaming surface as she studied me with those sharp hazel eyes that missed nothing.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly, leaning back in her leather chair. "When's the last time you slept?"
"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
The truth was, I'd spent most of the night staring at the ceiling of my motel room, replaying every moment with Lila.
The way she'd pulled away from me in the parking lot.
The hurt in her eyes when she'd said there could be no "us.
" The walls she'd thrown up the moment things got complicated.
"It's the girl, isn't it?" Elise's voice was gentler now, the tone she'd used when I was younger and the world felt too big and hostile. "Lila."
I didn't bother denying it. "It doesn't matter. She made it clear she's not interested.”
"Did she now?" Elise raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "And you believed her?"
"She was pretty fucking clear about it."
"Language, Griffin." But there was amusement in her voice. "Tell me, what exactly did she say?"
I replayed the scene in the parking lot, Lila's voice echoing in my memory. There is no us. There can't be. "She said we couldn't be anything because it would complicate her job."
"Ah." Elise nodded knowingly. "She's scared."
"She's focused on her career."
"She's terrified," Elise corrected firmly. "There's a difference. I've been in business long enough to recognize someone running from their feelings when I see it. And that girl was definitely running."
I wanted to argue, but something in Elise's tone made me pause. "What makes you so sure?"
"The way she looked at you, for starters.
Like you'd hung the moon and she was afraid it might fall.
" Elise leaned forward, her expression serious.
"Griffin, I've watched you keep everyone at arm's length for years.
You've built yourself a nice, safe life where you're always the one doing the rescuing, never the one needing to be saved. But that girl? She threatens that."
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" She tilted her head. "When's the last time you let someone take care of you? When's the last time you stayed in one place long enough to build something real with another person?"
The questions hit too close to home. I'd been telling myself for years that I was fine alone, that my work was enough, that I didn't need the complications that came with letting someone close. But Lila had shattered that illusion in the span of a few days.
"What are you suggesting?" I asked.
"Stay." The word was simple, but it carried weight. "Not just for tonight, but really stay. Rhodes Select could use someone with your organizational and management skills, and Oakcrest Bay could use a good search and rescue pilot. The coastal mountains see their share of emergencies."
"You want me to give up my crew? My life in Foxfire Valley?"
"I want you to consider that maybe it's time to stop running too." Elise's smile was soft. "You could split your time. Keep your connections to Foxfire Valley but build something here too. With her."
The idea was tempting in a way that scared the shit out of me. "She doesn't want that."
"She doesn't think she can have it," Elise corrected. "There's a difference. Trust me, Griffin. I didn't build this business by being afraid to take risks."
An hour later, I found myself walking through the barrel room at Sparkling Oak Winery, my aunt's words echoing in my mind. The space was cool and dimly lit, rows of oak barrels stretching into the shadows like sleeping giants. The air was thick with the rich, earthy scent of aging wine.
I heard her before I saw her—Lila's voice carrying through the space as she practiced what sounded like a presentation. She stood at the far end of the room, gesturing animatedly at an imaginary audience, her dark hair catching the golden light that filtered through the high windows.
"The 2021 Cabernet represents everything Sparkling Oak stands for," she was saying, her voice confident and passionate. "Bold, complex, with layers that reveal themselves slowly to those patient enough to savor the experience."
I leaned against a barrel, content to watch her work. She was in her element here, surrounded by the tools of her trade, speaking about something she clearly loved. This was the Lila I'd fallen for—passionate, intelligent, completely focused on excellence.
"The finish is long and smooth, with hints of dark chocolate and espresso that linger on the palate," she continued, then paused, frowning. "No, that's not right. It's too technical. People want to feel something, not get a chemistry lesson."
"Try this," I said, stepping out of the shadows. "The 2021 Cabernet is like a perfect night—it starts bold and exciting, then settles into something warm and comforting that you never want to end."
Lila spun around, her eyes wide with surprise. "Griffin! What are you doing here?"
"Elise wanted to show me around the operation," I said. "Thought I should familiarize myself with Sparkling Oak's facilities if we're going to be working together. I didn't expect to find you practicing."
She clutched her notes to her chest, suddenly self-conscious. "I was just... the showcase is tomorrow night, and I want to make sure I get it right."
"You will." I moved closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice. "You're a natural at this, Lila. You don't need to keep second-guessing yourself."
"Easy for you to say. This isn't just another presentation for me—it's everything I've worked for."
"I know." I stopped just out of reach, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. "And that's exactly why you're going to be amazing. Your passion shows when you talk about wine. People will feel it."
Something shifted in her expression, walls lowering just a fraction. "You really think so?"
"I know so." I reached out and gently took the notes from her hands, setting them aside on a nearby barrel. "Want to practice on me? I'll be your test audience."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. But be honest—tell me if something doesn't work."
For the next twenty minutes, I watched her transform.
The nervous woman who'd been fumbling over technical terms disappeared, replaced by someone confident and captivating.
She moved through the barrel room like she owned it, using the space to tell stories about the wine, the winemaking process, the perseverance and dedication that went into every bottle.
"That was incredible," I said when she finished. "If I weren't already sold on Sparkling Oak wines, I would be now."
A blush crept up her neck. "You're just being nice."
"I'm being honest." I stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her dark eyes. "You're going to knock them dead tomorrow night."
"Griffin..." she started, but whatever she was going to say died as I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
The touch was electric, sending heat coursing through me. I saw her pupils dilate, heard the sharp intake of her breath. The careful distance she'd been maintaining crumbled in an instant.
"We shouldn't," she whispered, even as she leaned into my touch.
"Probably not," I agreed, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "But I can't stop thinking about you. About us. About what we could have if you'd stop running long enough to let it happen."
"I'm not running—"
I silenced her with a kiss, pouring all my frustration and desire and hope into the contact. She stiffened for a moment, then melted against me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with desperate hunger.
"God, I've missed this," I groaned against her lips, backing her against one of the massive barrels. "Missed you. Once wasn’t enough—could never be enough."
"We can't," she gasped, even as her hands roamed over my chest, reacquainting themselves with the planes and angles of my body. "If someone finds us—"
"Then we'll have to be quiet," I murmured, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Think you can manage that?"
Her breath hitched as I nipped at her earlobe. "Griffin..."
I pulled back to look at her, needing to see her face. "Tell me to stop, and I will. But fuck—Lila-- don't tell me you don't want this as much as I do."
For a moment, she stared at me, conflict clear in her expression. Then something shifted, resolve replacing uncertainty. "Lock the door."
I didn't need to be told twice. The barrel room had a heavy wooden door with an old-fashioned lock—probably installed when the building was first constructed. I turned it with a satisfying click, sealing us in our own private world.
When I turned back, Lila was watching me with dark eyes full of promise. She'd moved to stand between two large barrels, the golden light from the windows painting her skin like honey.
"Come here," she said softly, and I was powerless to resist.
I crossed to her in three strides, crushing her against me as our mouths met again. This kiss was different—hungrier, more desperate. All the control we'd both been maintaining shattered like glass.
My hands found the hem of her blouse, sliding underneath to touch the smooth skin of her waist. She arched into me, her body singing with need as I explored the familiar territory of her curves.
"I need to touch you," I said roughly, my fingers working at the buttons of her blouse. "All of you."
She nodded frantically, her own hands busy with my belt buckle. "Yes. Please."
Her blouse fell away, revealing a lacy bra that made my mouth water. I traced the edge of the fabric with my fingertips, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.
"So beautiful," I murmured, pressing kisses along her collarbone. "So fucking perfect."