Chapter 4 #2
"My angle is that I'm a businessman who recognizes a strong operation with a temporary cash flow problem, and I'd rather invest in something real than park the money somewhere it does nothing.
" I meet her stare and hold it. "I've run a thoroughbred program since I was eighteen, and I built a breeding operation for rodeo horses from scratch with my brother-in-law.
I know what it takes to run a family business, and I know the difference between a failing company and a good one that needs a little help.
Willow Sage is firmly in the second category. "
Isabelle's jaw works for a moment. "And the fact that my head winemaker seems to have caught your eye has nothing to do with this."
I don't flinch. "Sunny is talented, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in getting to know her better.
But this investment stands on its own, and if you look at those numbers, you'll see that.
I'm not trying to buy my way into Sunny's life.
If she decides she wants nothing to do with me, this deal stays exactly the same. "
A shift passes through Isabelle's expression, a loosening around the jaw, a slow exhale through her nose. She picks up the term sheet again and reads through it a second time, slower now, and I can almost see her recalculating.
"I'll need my attorney to review this," she says. "And Diego will want to weigh in."
"Take all the time you need. There’s no deadline."
"I also need your word that this stays between us until I'm ready to tell my team. Sunny included." Isabelle's tone sharpens. "She's protective of this place, and if she thinks someone is coming in to change things, she'll dig in harder than a deer tick."
"You have my word."
Isabelle nods once. "I'll call you by the end of the week." She stands and shakes my hand, her expression warming a fraction. "Please tell your grandmother I enjoyed the dinner party. The evening was lovely, and I'd welcome the chance to give her a personal tour of the winery if she's interested."
"She'd love that. I'll pass it along."
Isabelle walks me toward the side entrance. I'm already thinking about the mountain of paperwork needed for this deal when a door opens to my left and Sunny Reese steps out of the barrel room.
She's in her element, a version of her I've only seen through that glass wall. Her standard work clothes, hair in a high ponytail, her face pinched in concentration. She's carrying a clipboard and scribbling something on it, and she doesn't notice me until she's three feet away.
Her head lifts, and that blue stare widens. "What are you doing here?"
"Business meeting." I keep my voice easy. The surprise on her face has me treading a little more carefully.
Her gaze cuts to Isabelle, then back to me, her expression sharpening. "I’m meeting with local business owners and getting to know the local community," I add.
"I'll let you two catch up." Isabelle's tone is deliberately casual, which I suspect is rare. She gives me a nod and disappears back down the hallway.
Sunny watches her go, and when she turns back to me, the surprise has been replaced by suspicion, sharp and direct. "Since when do horse breeders want business insight from small local wineries?"
"Since this horse breeder decided that this community is home."
"Home, huh?" She turns the word over like she doesn’t quite buy it. "You drove all the way out here, in the middle of a workday, to talk shop in an industry that has nothing to do with yours?"
"Among other things."
The war plays out across her face, curiosity pushing against suspicion. "What other things, Charlie?"
"The kind I’m not ready to share yet." I hold her gaze. "And for the record, business isn’t the only reason I’m standing here."
Her breathing falters, the same quiet catch I noticed on the porch at Twin Oaks, the one she doesn’t realize she gives away. "Is that supposed to charm me?"
"Is it working?"
"No." But the color climbing her neck says otherwise, and the clipboard dips another inch. "You don’t get to show up at my workplace, have secret meetings with my boss, and then stand there like you’ve got all the answers."
"I don’t have all the answers, Sunny. But maybe three.
One is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Saturday night.
" I let that sit between us. "You said you’d think about seeing me again. I’ve been trying to respect that, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come out here hoping I’d run into you. "
Her lips part, and for a second the sarcasm evaporates and I see the woman underneath. The one who laughed on my grandmother's porch and tucked her hair behind her ear because she knew I was watching.
"You're honest," she says, quieter now. "I'll give you that."
"I don't see the point in being anything else."
Her mouth twitches. "And what are the other ones? You said you had three answers."
"The second one is that your wine is some of the best I've ever tasted, and I've been to Napa twice and Tuscany once."
The compliment lands differently than I expect. Instead of deflecting, Sunny goes still, and vulnerability flickers in her expression before she schools her face back to neutral.
"And the third?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.
"The third is that you're worth every mile of that drive, and I'd do it several times over." I hold her eyes for one more second, and then I settle my hat on my head and take a step back, giving her the room she needs. "I'll see you around, Sunny."
I head toward the side exit. Behind me, the hallway is quiet, and I don't look back, not because I don't want to, but because I know the value of leaving a woman with something to think about.
The drive passes in a blur of hills and live oaks, and my mind is split between two tracks that keep intersecting.
The business side runs the timeline and scenarios for what happens if Isabelle says yes and what I'll do if she says no.
The other replays the way Sunny's voice dropped when she said you're honest, and the look in her eyes when I told her she was worth the drive.
Wade is waiting by the barn when I pull up, one boot hooked on the lowest rail, arms crossed. A small group of young mares grazes in the far pasture, and his gaze tracks from them to my truck and back without a flicker.
"How’d the meeting go?" he asks. Wade tends to know what’s going on, whether anyone tells him or not."
"Well, I think."
"Mm." He doesn't move from his post. "You going to tell me what it was about, or do I get to hear it from your grandmother?"
"It's a potential investment. I'm still working out the details."
"With the winery." Wade doesn't phrase it as a question.
"That's right."
He holds my look for a beat, and then one corner of his mouth twitches in what might be the closest thing to amusement Wade Faulkner has ever displayed. "You know, I once drove forty miles out of my way to buy a saddle I didn't need because the woman selling it had green eyes and a pretty smile."
I let that one sail right past me like I didn't hear it.
"Turned out to be a damn fine saddle, though.
" Wade pushes off the fence rail, and then he pauses, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth spreads into something I can only describe as a real grin. On Wade, it’s about as common as snow in July.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Your sister stopped by while you were gone. She left something for you."
Every instinct I have goes on full alert.
Rachel's surprises have a long and colorful history.
Starting with the time she signed me up for a charity bachelor auction in high school without telling me, and ending with the goat she put in my bedroom as payback for telling Gran she'd snuck out to a party.
That damned goat ate my pillow and half my bedspread, and shit all over the floor before I found it.
"She left something for me," I repeat carefully.
Wade's grin widens. He jerks his chin toward a spot past the barns, out near the back paddock. "Why don't you go take a look."
"Wade, what did my sister leave at my ranch?" I don't bother hiding the alarm in my voice.
"I think it’s something a man ought to see for himself." He turns for the barn, boots crunching over the gravel. He’s gone before I can press him, which tells me he’s enjoying this. That should worry me.
I head past the barn with the same caution I’d use on a stallion in a bad mood. The late afternoon sun throws long shadows across the paddock, and the horses in the near pasture lift their heads as I pass, tracking me like they know something’s off.
I round the corner of the far barn and stop short. "Son of a bitch."
A freshly built duck coop sits in the grass beside the back paddock, complete with a small shelter, a water trough, and a stretch of temporary wire fencing that marks out a neat little yard.
Inside, six ducks mill around the trough like they’ve already claimed the place.
One of them looks up and lets out an indignant quack, like I’m the intruder.
I pull out my phone and call my sister.
Rachel answers on the first ring, already laughing. She doesn't even bother with hello. "Before you say anything—"
"Rachel Marie Freeman, why are there ducks on my property?"
She laughs harder. I can hear Mason in the background saying something that sounds like I told you he'd call.
"They needed a home, Charlie."
"They needed a—" I pinch the bridge of my nose and watch one of the ducks try to climb out of the water trough, fail spectacularly, and tumble sideways into the grass. "What the hell, Rach?"
"Evie had her heart set on having chickens and ducks.
" Rachel's voice carries the particular glee of a woman who has just offloaded her disaster onto someone else.
"Mason was fine with the chickens, but he drew the line at the ducks.
He said they're messy and loud and they'll terrorize the barn cats. "
"And your answer was to bring them to me? You're gonna pay for this one, Sis."
"I found them a loving home with plenty of space and a brother who owes me for dragging him to a winery where he met a certain blonde winemaker.
" She pauses for effect. "Take good care of them, Charlie.
Give them a real home. Evie is going to visit, and if those ducks aren't happy and thriving, you will answer to a very upset three-year-old. "
"You can't just dump livestock on someone's ranch while they're out," I choke out.
"I absolutely can, and I did. Their names are Gerald, Karen, Wadsworth, Biscuit, Dolly, and the mean one is Kevin." She says this like she's reading off a list, which she probably is. "Evie named them. Don't you dare change the names."
I stare at the ducks. Kevin, if I had to guess, is the one currently mouthing off at me.
"Rachel—"
"Love you, bye!" The line goes dead.
I stand there in the late afternoon light with my phone in my hand and six ducks staring at me like they're waiting for a formal welcome. Kevin hasn't stopped quacking.
Gran is on the porch when I cross the yard, book open in her lap and the amused look on her face telling me everything I need to know.
"I see you found Rachel's surprise," she says, turning a page.
"You knew about this."
She peers at me over her reading glasses. "Evie was very concerned about the ducks, Charles. She made Rachel promise they'd go somewhere safe."
"So, everyone was in on this."
Gran smiles and returns to her book. "Consider it a housewarming gift, dear."
I shake my head and turn for the barn. I've got horses to check on, a business to run, and apparently six ducks with names I'm not allowed to change.
It's been one hell of a day.