Epilogue
Griffin
Six weeks later
The coastal mountains of Oakcrest Bay stretched out below my helicopter like a living map, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the rugged terrain.
I'd just finished a search and rescue training exercise with the local emergency crews—my third this month since officially splitting my time between here and Foxfire Valley.
"Base to Rescue One," crackled through my headset. "Exercise complete. You're clear to return."
"Copy that, Base. Heading home."
Home. The word still felt new on my tongue when it referred to anywhere other than Foxfire Valley, but that's exactly what Oakcrest Bay had become. What Lila had become.
I banked the helicopter toward town, the sprawling vineyards coming into view like neat green ribbons across the rolling hills.
Sparkling Oak Winery sat nestled among them, its stone buildings glowing golden in the evening light.
And there, on the terrace where we'd first confessed our feelings, I could see a familiar figure waiting for me.
My heart did that ridiculous skip it always did when I spotted Lila.
Even from this height, I could make out her silhouette—the way she stood with one hand shading her eyes as she watched my approach, the other holding what looked like a wine glass.
She'd changed out of her work clothes into a flowing sundress that caught the breeze, her long hair loose around her shoulders.
I set the helicopter down in the designated landing area behind the winery, the rotors gradually slowing as I went through my post-flight checklist. By the time I'd shut everything down and grabbed my gear, Lila was there waiting for me, that smile that never failed to knock the breath from my lungs lighting up her face.
"Show off," she called over the dying whir of the rotors, but her eyes were sparkling with pride and something deeper—something that still amazed me every time I saw it. Love. Pure, uncomplicated, no-holds-barred love.
"Says the woman who closed the biggest distribution deal in Sparkling Oak's history this week," I replied, pulling off my helmet and crossing to her in three quick strides.
I swept her into my arms, spinning her around as she laughed—that musical sound that had become my favorite song. When I set her down, she was breathless and beautiful, her cheeks flushed pink from the spinning and the wine.
"Careful," she said, steadying herself against my chest. "I'm holding our celebration."
"Celebration?" I raised an eyebrow, taking the glass she offered me. The wine inside was deep red, almost purple in the golden light. "What are we celebrating?"
"Madeline just got confirmation—the San Francisco buyers want to triple their order for next quarter.
And the Los Angeles market wants to expand into three new regions.
" Her smile was radiant, success and happiness combining in a way that made her absolutely luminous.
"We did it, Griffin. The partnership between Sparkling Oak and Rhodes Select is officially the most successful in the company's history. "
"We did it," I agreed, clinking my glass against hers. The wine was rich and complex on my tongue—one of their premium Cabernets that I was slowly learning to appreciate under Lila's patient tutelage. "To partnerships."
"To partnerships," she echoed, but the way she said it, the heat in her gaze as she looked at me over the rim of her glass, made it clear she wasn't just talking about business.
We walked together toward the terrace, my arm around her waist, her body fitting perfectly against my side.
The sun was setting over the bay, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange that rivaled any sunset I'd ever seen from a cockpit.
Below us, the vineyard stretched out in neat rows, heavy with grapes that would soon be harvested for the next vintage.
"How was the training exercise?" Lila asked as we settled onto the stone wall that bordered the terrace, the same spot where we'd had our first real conversation about the future.
"Good. The local crews are sharp—better than I expected, actually.
They've been dealing with wildfire threats for years, but they were eager to learn some of the techniques we use in Nevada.
" I took another sip of wine, savoring both the flavor and the moment.
"Captain Morrison asked if I'd consider consulting on their winter preparedness program. "
"That's amazing." Lila leaned into me, her head finding its familiar spot on my shoulder. "You're building something here, aren't you? Something real."
"We're building something," I corrected, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Speaking of which, Rex called this afternoon. He and Sabine are planning to drive down for the harvest festival next month. Something about wanting to see what all the fuss is about with wine country."
Lila laughed. "Are you sure they're ready for Oakcrest Bay? It's a little different from Foxfire Valley."
"That's exactly what I told them. But Sabine said, and I quote, 'If Griffin can survive being domesticated by a wine snob, we can handle a few fancy grapes.'"
"Wine snob?" Lila pulled back to look at me with mock outrage. "I prefer 'educated enthusiast.'"
"I stand corrected." I grinned, loving the way her eyes sparkled when she was pretending to be offended. "Though you have to admit, you've gotten a little carried away with the wine education program you've designed for me."
"You needed it," she said primly. "A man who thinks all wine tastes like 'grape juice with delusions of grandeur' clearly requires intervention."
"And now?"
She considered this seriously, swirling her wine thoughtfully. "Now you can tell the difference between a Pinot Noir and a Cabernet, you know what tannins are, and you've stopped asking if we can mix the Chardonnay with Sprite."
"Growth," I said solemnly.
"Tremendous growth." She kissed my jaw, a soft press of lips that sent warmth spiraling through me. "I'm very proud."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower toward the horizon.
The harvest was still a few weeks away, but I could already feel the anticipation building.
This would be my first harvest season here, my first time seeing the culmination of a full year's work in the vineyards.
Lila had been talking about it for weeks, her excitement infectious as she described the controlled chaos of harvest time—the early morning starts, the careful timing, the celebration when the last grapes were brought in.
"Penny for your thoughts," Lila said softly.
"Just thinking about how different things are from six weeks ago," I admitted. "How different I am."
"Different how?"
I considered the question, trying to put into words the shift that had happened inside me since that night on the terrace when she'd finally stopped running.
"I used to think that staying in one place, building something permanent, was a kind of trap.
That it would make me soft, or vulnerable, or. .. I don't know. Less than what I was."
"And now?"
"Now I think I was just scared." I turned to face her fully, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. "Scared of wanting something I might lose. Scared of being the one who needed saving instead of doing the saving."
Lila's expression softened, her free hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw. "You save people every day, Griffin. That hasn't changed just because you're also building a life here."
"No, but what has changed is that I'm not doing it alone anymore." I caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I never understood what people meant when they talked about partnership—real partnership. I thought it meant giving up independence or compromising who you were. But with you..."
"With me?"
"With you, I'm more myself than I've ever been. Stronger, not weaker. More focused, not distracted." I smiled, remembering the conversation with Elise that had started all of this. "My aunt was right. I was running just as much as you were."
"And now we're both standing still," Lila said with a soft smile.
"Actually," I said, standing and pulling her up with me, "I think we're both flying."
The last rays of sunlight caught the wine in our glasses as we finished them, the Cabernet warming my chest almost as much as the sight of Lila's face in the golden hour light.
She looked happy—truly, deeply happy in a way that went beyond professional success or personal achievement.
She looked like a woman who had found exactly where she belonged.
"Dance with me," I said suddenly, setting our empty glasses aside.
"There's no music," she protested, but she was already moving into my arms.
"There's always music," I murmured against her ear as I pulled her close. "You just have to know how to listen."
And there was—the soft whisper of wind through the grapevines, the distant sound of waves against the cliffs, the quiet settling sounds of the winery as the day wound down. We swayed together on the terrace, lost in our own world as the stars began to appear in the darkening sky.
"Griffin?" Lila's voice was soft, thoughtful.
"Mmm?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For stopping that day when my car broke down. For giving me a ride. For showing me that sometimes the best things happen when your plans fall apart."
I pulled back to look at her, this incredible woman who had turned my carefully ordered life upside down in the best possible way. "Thank you for letting me."
"For letting you what?"
"Fall in love with you."
She smiled then, the kind of smile that could power entire cities, and reached up to kiss me.
It was soft and sweet and full of promise—the kiss of a woman who had finally stopped running, finally stopped planning, finally stopped being afraid of what she might lose if she let herself want something.