Chapter 19
Sunny
Standing in the production room doorway, I breathe in the cool mineral air and stillness that I only find here. The scent of fermenting fruit wraps around me like a hug from an old friend. I was only in California for three days, but the relief of it catches me off guard.
I have a full slate of things to do, so I tie on my apron and get busy.
By the time Isabelle appears in the doorway at nine, I've already cranked through half of my to-do list. She's carrying two mugs of coffee and wearing that determined expression she gets when she has something to say.
"Welcome back." She crosses the room and sets a mug at my elbow. "You look annoyingly rested for someone who just flew cross-country."
"Charlie and I got back yesterday." I take a sip and watch her settle onto the stool across the worktable. "I was going to come find you this morning. I owe you an explanation."
"You do." She wraps both hands around her mug. "Start from the beginning."
I walk her through it—seeing Beaumont Crest again, Evan's apology, and the explicit terms of his deal with Derek.
"Charlie hired a private investigator to look into it," I tell her. "Turns out Derek’s parents had threatened to pull his trust fund, and the acquisition was how he planned to save it." Her jaw drops with every word. "I turned the offer down. Evan walked away from the deal entirely when I did."
Isabelle exhales slowly through her nose, and her shoulders drop.
"I'm glad you went in person," she says. "Evan deserved that."
"He did." I tap my fingers against the mug.
"You made the right call." Isabelle's dark eyes hold mine, and the directness in her expression tells me we're moving into different territory. She sets her mug down and straightens. "There's something I need to tell you, and I want you to hear me out before you say anything."
My spine stiffens. The last time Isabelle used that tone, she was telling me we'd just lost our biggest account.
"Charlie called me from Fort Worth. Before he flew to California, he proposed giving you an ownership stake in Willow Sage.
" She holds up a hand before I can speak.
"Not a token percentage, not a performance incentive. A genuine stake. He wanted it finalized before we said anything, but I thought you should know what we’re doing.
" Her voice softens. "Charlie also wanted to make sure it was clear that the investment and the offer were completely separate from whatever is happening between the two of you.
You've given so much to this winery, Sunny.
You built the wine program that put us in front of forty-two customers and had them fighting over allocation.
You deserve to own a piece of what you built. "
The words sink in, and for a moment my mind goes blank. My mouth opens and nothing comes out, which rarely happens to me.
"Isabelle—"
"The attorneys are drafting the documents. It'll take a few weeks to finalize, but the decision is made." She meets my eyes. "You're a partner, Sunny. If you'll have us."
My eyes water and I stare at the worktable, blinking hard. The steel counter steadies me, because the floor just shifted under my feet.
Five years ago, I drove into Stone Creek with a car full of everything I owned and a job offer from a woman who barely knew me. I have not once, in all the time since, allowed myself to imagine I could own even a sliver of this place.
But Isabelle is watching me with an expression that has no conditions attached to it.
"I accept," I say, and my voice is rougher than I intend. "Absolutely."
Isabelle smiles, and the warmth in it is so real that it catches me off guard. She squeezes my hand once across the table and lets go. "Good. Now get back to work. Partner." She picks up her mug and heads for the door.
She's barely gone before my phone buzzes on the worktable. Charlie.
"Hey, Sunshine."
"Hey yourself." I lean against the worktable. "How are the horses?"
"Good." A pause, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Gran's invited you to dinner tonight. Please say yes."
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."
"Great. It's at six o'clock. Don't be late."
"I'm never late."
His laugh is easy and warm and I realize I've been waiting to hear it all morning. "See you tonight."
I spend the rest of the day in a rhythm that makes me feel most like myself. Tabitha stops in at noon with a sandwich and a grin wide enough to split her face and about forty-five questions about California that I answer while eating.
By two o'clock, I've cleared my list and started inventing tasks to keep my hands busy, which is how I know my afternoon priorities have lost the battle against the clock. Four hours until I need to leave for Twin Oaks, and I'm already anticipating the drive.
I miss him in this room. The sessions had become part of my rhythm, the morning coffee appearing at my elbow, the questions that got sharper every week, the way his focus on whatever I was teaching made everything feel worth explaining.
This space is mine in a way that nothing else is, and somehow he fit into it without making it feel any smaller.
* * *
I turn beneath the Twin Oaks arch as the evening light has gone full gold, painting the fence rails and the pastures in the warm, relaxed tones that I have come to think of as the ranch's particular colors.
I spot Charlie before I've fully stopped the truck.
He's in the training paddock off the far side of the main barn, mounted, guiding the horse through a series of lateral movements at a trot, his hands low and quiet on the reins.
His hat is low on his forehead and his shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and the late sun catches the sheen of sweat on his forearms. The horse, a chestnut I haven't seen before, moves with a cautious, curious energy, ears pricked, tracking Charlie's every shift in weight.
I park and barely have the door open before the duck enclosure erupts. The quacking is spectacular, a full chorus rolling across the property. Charlie glances up at the commotion, and even from this distance, I can see the grin break across his face.
He says something to the horse, then eases the animal to a stop. When he tips his hat to me, my stomach flips the way it always does when he’s being sexy. I wave and head for the ducks.
Gerald meets me at the gate before I've fully opened it, his head bobbing with urgent enthusiasm. I crouch and offer my hand, and he presses his bill against my palm with a trill that sounds accusatory.
"I was only gone a few days, Gerald. You survived."
He nudges my knee, which I choose to interpret as forgiveness. Biscuit and Dolly crowd in from the left, and Karen circles twice before settling close enough to preen beside my boot. Wadsworth drifts over at his own pace, because he’s never once hurried at anything in his life.
Kevin approaches from the far bank with the measured, deliberate stride of a duck who has things to say and will take his time saying them. He stops in front of me, makes a squeak that splits the difference between a complaint and a greeting, and plops on my foot.
"Okay," I tell him. "I missed you too."
An arm wraps around my waist from behind and lifts me off the ground, the ducks scattering with indignant squawks. Charlie spins me once before setting me down, and his mouth finds mine before I've fully registered what's happening.
He smells like horses and sweat and summer heat. I love it.
"Hey, Sunshine." His voice is low, right against my ear, and the rumble of it travels down my spine.
"I'm torn between kissing you again and hosing you down," I tell him.
"I vote for kissing."
I draw back to get a look at him. His face is brown from the sun and tired at the edges and his hat is pushed back. He is, without question, the best thing I’ve ever seen.
"Long day?" I ask.
"Yeah, but a good one." He brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Come on. Gran's waiting."
Gran is on the front porch when we get there, the rocker positioned to face the driveway, sweet tea already poured into three glasses.
"Sunny, my dear." She rises and takes both my hands in hers, studying my face with shrewd, affectionate attention. "You look tired. Have a seat. Charles, you smell like the barn. Why don’t you clean up while Sunny and I chat?"
Charlie gives a wry smile, squeezes my hand before letting it go, and heads into the house shaking his head.
I settle into the chair beside her and accept the tea. "Thank you for the dinner invitation. I've been looking forward to it all day."
"Good." She smooths her skirt. "Now. Tell me about your adventure. Charles gave me the broad strokes, but he has a maddening habit of leaving out the interesting parts."
I give her the abbreviated version, with enough detail that she follows the emotional arc without me dwelling on the parts that would make her want to drive to California and handle Derek herself. She listens without interrupting.
"And Evan?" she asks when I finish.
"He's going to find another buyer. Someone who deserves the winery."
Gran nods, satisfied, and rocks once. "Good man. I suspected he was, from the way Charlie spoke about him." She tips her head toward the house. "The unpleasant young man with the suit—"
"Derek."
"Mm." Her pursed lips convey, without a single additional word, everything she thinks about Derek Parker. "I hope Charles was sufficiently persuasive."
"He was." I take a sip of tea and let a beat pass. "He was very efficient about it."
Gran's eyes sharpen. "Efficient?"
"Charlie put him on the ground in under a second. It was very impressive."
Gran's smile is pure satisfaction. She picks up her tea and says nothing further, which speaks volumes. We rock in silence for a few minutes, sipping our tea and watching the early evening light turn the land to molten gold and pools of shadow.