Chapter 2 #2
"I'm sure Oscar has it perfectly under control," Sunny says, and from across the room, Oscar inclines his head in a gesture of gratitude.
Rachel waves Sunny over with that easy warmth of hers, Charlotte pulls her into something about a fundraiser, and Lila stakes a claim about a wine-and-books pairing event before Sunny can draw a full breath.
She handles it all with quiet composure.
But when Lila circles back to the pairing event, Sunny's voice warms and her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch.
The real entertainment starts at the sideboard.
Beau sets his empty glass on the bar just as Isabelle steps in beside him. They both reach for the bottle at the same time. Neither one moves.
"Hartman." Isabelle’s smile is polished and dangerous.
"Navarro." Beau’s is easy, like he’s been hoping for this all night. "I almost didn’t recognize you without a clipboard in your hand."
"I like to keep people guessing." She tightens her grip on the bottle. "You should try it sometime."
He doesn’t let go. "I do. Usually right before I fix things."
"Oh, is that what you call it?" She lifts a brow. "Because your fence on the north ridge is still leaning into our vineyard."
"That fence is made of stone and has been there forty years."
"And it’s been losing that fight for most of them." She finally pulls the bottle free, smooth as anything, and pours her wine. "At this point, I’m starting to think it’s trying to relocate."
Lila, watching from a nearby chair, takes a slow sip of her wine and settles in like she just found her favorite show.
Beau leans a hip against the sideboard, unfazed. "Funny. I was thinking the same about your vines. They’ve been inching over the line all season."
"That’s called ambition." Isabelle lifts her glass. "You wouldn’t know anything about that."
He huffs a quiet laugh. "Careful. You keep talking like that, I might start charging rent."
She takes a sip, holds his gaze over the rim, and sets the glass down like she’s placing a bet.
"Enjoy the wine, Hartman," she says. "We made it."
She turns and strolls toward Rachel and Charlotte without looking back. Beau watches her go, his jaw working, and then takes a long drink from his glass.
"That woman could start a fight in an empty room," he mutters.
Charlotte hides a smile behind her napkin. Lila coughs into her glass.
A warm voice beside me breaks my focus. "They do this every time they're in the same room."
I turn to find Sunny standing at my elbow, her glass of Viognier held loosely in one hand, watching Beau stare after Isabelle with an expression he probably thinks no one notices.
"I could tell. I thought they were going to arm-wrestle over that bottle."
"Try working with Isabelle. She comes back from every interaction with Beau ready to put her fist through a barrel." Sunny takes a sip of her wine, and one side of her mouth curves. "She talks about him often, though. She just doesn't realize it."
"You think there's something there?"
"I think it's a bonfire waiting for a match." She glances at me, and the candlelight from the dining room catches in her eyes. "But don't tell either of them I said that. Isabelle would murder me in my sleep."
"Your secret's safe."
"It better be. I know where you live now."
Gran announces dinner, and Oscar appears to guide everyone to their seats.
I notice Gran has positioned Sunny directly across from me, close enough to talk, but far enough apart that we have to make an effort.
It's the work of a woman who understands that wanting to close a gap is more powerful than having no gap at all.
Chef Delany has outdone himself. The beef tenderloin arrives on a platter surrounded by roasted vegetables, alongside a wild mushroom risotto that draws actual silence from the table for the first few bites.
Oscar pours the Nebbiolo, and I watch Sunny's expression when she tastes it paired with the beef.
Her eyes close for just a second. When they open, she catches me watching and her cheeks flush before she recovers. "That's fantastic," she says, her voice carefully neutral.
"Charlies said it would be a good pairing," Gran answers.
Sunny eyes me, a brow lifted. "He had a fifteen-minute tasting and a lot of nerve."
"Some people are fast learners," I tease, giving her a wink.
Rachel, seated two chairs down, catches my eye and gives me a knowing look over her water glass. She doesn't say a word, but she doesn't have to. My twin has been reading me since the womb, and the smirk on her face says she sees exactly where my attention keeps drifting.
I give her a look that says mind your business. She raises her glass in a silent toast and turns back to Mason, who's wisely focused on his dinner.
The rest of dinner settles into an entertaining rhythm.
Conversation drifts and overlaps, then circles back again.
Charlotte has everyone laughing over a story about the previous Twin Oaks owner that somehow involves a runaway peacock and a very expensive garden statue.
Diego talks about the upcoming harvest with the kind of quiet focus that makes it clear this isn’t just work to him.
Lila mentions she’s thinking about expanding the bookshop, adding space for events.
"You’re gonna need help with that," Beau says, not even glancing up from his plate. "Framing, drywall, whatever you need. I’ve got guys who can handle it."
Lila smiles. "I might take you up on that."
Across the table, Isabelle tips her head, studying him. "You do construction now, Beau?"
Beau looks up, meeting her gaze. "I do what needs doing."
"Huh." She takes a sip of her wine. "Multitalented. Who knew." There’s just enough sass in it to make us pause.
Beau shrugs, like it’s nothing. "Stick around, Isabelle. You might learn something."
Isabelle huffs a quiet laugh into her glass, like she didn’t mean to, then shakes her head.
Through all of it, I can’t take my eyes off Sunny. The way she listens more than she talks, and how her observations, when they come, are sharp and funny and aimed with precision. How she leans forward when the conversation turns to the winery, or to the valley, or to anything she cares about.
After dessert, a pecan pie with bourbon whipped cream that makes Diego close his eyes in reverence, the group spills out onto the front porch. The evening has cooled just enough to be comfortable, and Oscar appears with coffee and a last round of wine.
Goodnights start making the rounds. Charlotte gathers her purse and promises to call.
Lila hugs everyone twice before heading for the steps.
Diego lingers over his coffee while Isabelle slips off the porch ahead of him, already halfway to the drive.
Beau falls into step beside her, saying something low that has her shooting him a glare.
Rachel rises more slowly, and Mason is there without a word, steady and sure.
She lets him help her up, her hand lingering in his for a beat before they head for the steps together.
They pause by the truck, talking quietly, her smile soft as Mason brushes a hand along her back before opening the door for her.
Diego finally heads down after them, catching up just as Isabelle reaches the passenger side of his truck. Beau peels off toward his own, but not before tossing one last comment over his shoulder that earns him a sharp reply.
Engines turn over one by one, headlights sweeping across the drive as trucks and cars pull away. I end up on the front steps, watching the last set of taillights disappear while the night settles over the valley.
Sunny appears beside me with her keys in hand.
"Leaving already?"
"I have to be at the winery by six tomorrow. Barrel racking waits for no woman." She turns to face me. The porch light plays across her face, and she looks different from the woman who arrived two hours ago. Softer, less guarded, like the evening smoothed a few of her sharper edges.
"I'm glad you came."
"Your grandmother didn’t give me much of a choice." A half-smile tugs at her mouth, like she’s not exactly complaining. "She’s something else."
"She liked you. I could tell."
"Pretty sure it was the wine. There’s a difference."
"You’re supposed to call her Gran now. That’s not something she offers lightly."
Sunny’s expression shifts, something unreadable moving behind her eyes. "This whole evening was wonderful." Her gaze drifts past me, catching on the light spilling through the dining room windows. "I’m not used to this."
"Dinner parties?"
"People wanting me around for something other than what I can do for them."
The words hit quietly, and the weight behind them tells me more about Sunny Reese than anything she's said before.
I want to ask what she means. I want to know who made her think her company wasn't reason enough for an invitation.
But pushing will only make her rebuild the walls that took all evening to lower.
"I'd like to see you again," I say instead. "Not at the winery and not because Gran orchestrated it. Just us."
She studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching my face for something I hope she finds. "Is that what rich horse breeders do? Wine and dine a girl and then ask for a date at the front door?"
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a question."
"Then my answer is yes. That's exactly what I’m doing when I meet someone worth asking twice."
Her breath catches, a tiny hitch that she covers by tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll think about it."
"Take your time." I hold her gaze, letting her see that I mean it. "I'm not going anywhere."
She stares at me for one more second and then walks down the porch steps. At the bottom, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder. "Your chef is talented, by the way. That risotto was worth the drive alone."
"I'll tell Chef Delany."
"Tell your grandmother. She's the one who planned the menu." Sunny's smile reaches her eyes for the first time all night, full and unguarded and gone almost as soon as it appears. "Goodnight, Charlie."
"Goodnight, Sunny."
I watch her truck pull down the drive and disappear onto the main road. Behind me, the front door opens and Gran's footsteps cross the porch. She settles into the rocking chair with a satisfied sigh.
"It was a lovely evening," she says.
"You're not subtle, Gran."
"I wasn't trying to be." She rocks gently, the chair creaking against the wooden boards. "She's guarded, Charles. More than she lets on."
"I noticed."
"Good. That means you're paying attention to the right things." Her gaze is on the dark lane where Sunny's truck disappeared. "She'll say yes, by the way."
"How do you know?"
Gran turns to look at me, the warm light from inside framing her small figure. "Because she came tonight. A woman who wasn't interested wouldn't have walked through that door, no matter how persuasive I am."
She gets up quickly and disappears inside. I stay on the porch a while longer, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of horses settling in the barn. The candles are still burning down in the dining room. The evening is over, and I should go inside.
Instead, I think about the way Sunny's voice changed when she said I'm not used to this. The walls she maintains and the small, careful ways she let them slip tonight. The smile she gave me at the bottom of the steps, the one that reached her eyes.
Gran's right. Sunny came tonight. And that's not nothing.