Josie #2
“The valley talks about the rivalry like it’s a tradition,” he says eventually.
“In a way, it is.” I brush my fingers over a leaf as we pass. “This one just involves contracts. And a bunch of other things, actually.”
He considers that as we continue down the row, the gravel shifting quietly under our shoes.
“Paradise Hill’s been busy this year,” he notes.
“They have.” I take a sip of wine. “They signed exclusive pouring agreements with several of the larger restaurant groups in the province.”
Alex nods, as if the detail confirms something he already suspected.
“Places that used to carry Black Bear by the glass,” I add.
“That’s where most people meet a wine,” he says.
“Exactly.”
“That kind of decision rarely comes from one moment of pressure.”
“That’s true,” I agree. “It usually arrives a little at a time. We produce a better wine, and the international community knows that, but due to old grievances, it can be political to get our wine out to the public, especially closer to home.”
The wind shifts across the vines, carrying the faint scent of warm earth after the day’s heat.
“I’m basically a farmer,” I tell him with a shrug. “Which is considerably less glamorous than the title of vintner.”
He smiles at that.
We circle back toward the tasting room, the lights from the building beginning to glow against the darkening vineyard. The small patio behind the winery comes into view as we round the corner.
Two plates wait on the table with a paper bag from the grill down the road. And there’s a bottle of Black Bear pinot breathing beside a pair of glasses.
Alex pauses at the edge of the patio. “This is impressive.”
“Hardly.” I pull out one of the chairs. “The deli that’s close by closes early. If I’d waited another twenty minutes, we’d have been improvising.”
“For the record,” he says as I divide the roasted chicken and veggies between the plates, “this is a better outcome.”
We sit in comfortable silence as we eat, the vineyard dark and still beyond the patio. After a few minutes Alex sets down his glass. “I didn’t realize how calculated vineyard competition could be.”
“Every business competes for visibility.”
“Sure, but I assumed wineries competed the way restaurants do. Better food wins.”
“That helps, but it doesn’t necessarily bring commercial respect. And our situation adds complexity.”
“What else is required, besides a good product?”
I tilt my glass slightly, watching the wine catch the patio light. “It’s rarely about the wine. This is what my grandmother constantly says. It’s about where the wine ends up.”
He nods slowly. “That sounds less romantic than the tasting room version.”
“It usually is.”
Alex studies me quietly.
For some reason, anxiety creeps in. “Don’t tell my grandmother I said that.”
“She wouldn’t agree?”
“That’s not what matters. Evie wouldn’t argue. She’d simply remove me from the business and close the door behind me.”
His eyes flare. “I won’t repeat it.”
The way he says it leaves me feeling calm again.
“Trust is expensive,” he adds after a moment.
I glance up from my glass. “You sound like someone who’s paid for it.”
He chuckles, though he doesn’t seem particularly amused. “You remember what I told you about Eloise’s mother,” he says.
“That she moved to Toronto after Eloise was born.”
“That’s the short version.”
I wait.
“She didn’t leave because of the baby,” he continues. “She left because the life we were building stopped being the one she wanted.”
The words carry no bitterness, only a kind of quiet certainty.
“Toronto offered something better?” I ask.
“Something different but familiar.”
“And you stayed.”
He turns the wine glass slowly between his fingers before answering. “My daughter was thirteen months old, and I had a job I’d worked years to get. Staying wasn’t much of a decision.”
The quiet returns, but it feels different now. The conversation shifted somewhere deeper without either of us forcing it there.
By the time we clear the plates and carry everything inside, the vineyard has disappeared into full darkness. Only the lights along the winery wall remain, casting a glow across the gravel path that leads toward the parking area.
I lock the side door behind us and slip the key back onto its hook. When I turn around, Alex is waiting a step away, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For dinner?”
“And for the tour.”
I look out into the dark vineyard beyond the buildings. “It wasn’t much of a tour.”
“It was more than you show most people.”
The comment lingers between us as we start toward the parking area. Neither of us rushes the walk. His car sits beneath the lone lamp near the edge of the parking lot. The light catches the hood and windshield, throwing a pale circle across the gravel.
I stop a few steps short of it.
For a moment neither of us moves. Then I take a small step back. “Next time we’ll do the vineyard tour during harvest. You’ll see it’s a little more chaotic.”
A smile touches his mouth. “I’ll take chaotic, but I hope to see a lot more of you before then.”
He closes the distance between us, and I slide my arms around his neck as his mouth meets mine. The kiss is immediate, confident, and completely consuming. My breath catches when his tongue brushes mine, and a rush of warmth unfurls through me.
His hands glide beneath the hem of my shirt, his fingertips tracing a slow path along my sides.
Goose bumps bloom beneath his touch, my body responding before my mind can catch up.
No one has ever undone me this easily. This kiss feels like he’s discovered a piece of me I didn’t know was waiting for him.
I want him. I want desperately to go back to my house and strip him naked. Instead, I pull back. We’re both breathing hard.
I nod toward the car. “Drive safe.”
He opens the door and pauses to glance back before sliding behind the wheel. The engine turns over, and his headlights sweep across the gravel drive as he pulls away.
I stay where I am until the sound of the car fades down the lane and the road returns to its usual quiet.
My breathing has not quite returned to normal.
Tonight was supposed to be about showing Alex the vineyard.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped explaining what I do and started wanting him to understand me.