Chapter Twenty
When Julian woke up that morning, he thought his biggest challenge would be the speech he was about to deliver. He’d put together some acknowledgments for the association recognizing Dalton Vos, their founding member—people Julian didn’t know, who greatly admired his father. He was accustomed to that. To smiling and agreeing with admirers who spoke of Dalton’s ingenuity, his revolutionary techniques and dedication to quality.
But as an adult man who knew a lot more now about responsibility, it had grown harder to grin and bear the compliments about his father. On the way through the lobby of the resort-winery, he’d shaken hands with winemakers and critics who spoke Dalton’s name as if they were conferring about a saint.
But it turned out trying to navigate the current moods of the three extremely different women in his life was even more difficult. His mother sat to his left, a smile glued so securely to her face, she looked almost maniacal. Natalie was already on her second helping of Cabernet and appeared to be looking very intently for the meaning of life in the bottom of the glass.
And then there was Hallie.
She was on his right, her eyes on the speaker at the front of the ballroom. But there was a very distinct pinkness scaling the back of her neck, probably because his eyes were most definitely not on the speaker. Nowhere in the vicinity whatsoever. They were on those little curls at the nape of her neck, and she obviously felt him staring. Before they’d left her cottage, she’d worked her hair up into some sort of twist on the top of her head, and he’d never seen those extra-small ringlets of blonde up close before. If they were not sitting at the very front of a watchful audience, he would press his face to the spot from which they sprung and inhale the hell out of her.
To say she looked good in the dress he’d picked would be an unforgivable understatement. Did she realize the pink and green flowers splashed across the front of her dress corresponded with the exact parts his hands were dying to touch? Although he suspected the flowers could be in any location and he would want to touch that exact place, because every inch of her consumed and fascinated him.
Julian’s fingers twitched in his lap, and he tamped down the urge to wind one of those curls around the same finger he’d touched her with earlier. Christ, they were going to call him up onstage any minute to make a speech and he had a semi—because of ringlets—so he needed to stop thinking of Hallie in that towel. With no panties on.
Feeling as if he had some sort of fever, Julian removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of Hallie’s chair, liking the way it looked there a little too much. A man didn’t hang his jacket on the back of a woman’s chair unless they were together, and now the room knew—and that satisfied something in Julian he’d never known existed.
Mine.
He’d said that to her last night in the vineyard, and it rang in his head now until he forced a swallow and tore his eyes from the nape of her flushed neck.
Later.
Julian let out a slow breath and turned his attention to Natalie and Corinne. His sister was now building a fort out of sugar packets and cocktail napkins. And he could see her nervous actions weren’t lost on Hallie, who sent him a look of concern over her shoulder. Nor had they gone unnoticed by his mother, whose pasted-on smile had dimmed somewhat during the introductory speech. And if this moment, this few seconds in time, were taking place a month ago, he might have been thinking of nothing but the pacing of his prepared words. The schedule of the luncheon and how it fit into his day, the routine he would need to complete upon arriving back at the guesthouse later.
But this string of seconds wasn’t happening a month ago. They were right now.
And he wouldn’t trade this moment for any other. Background noise and movement in the ballroom blurred everything except for the women surrounding him. He reached for Hallie’s hand beneath the table; then, deciding it wasn’t enough to have only that one connection with her, he moved his chair closer until her scent was stronger and inhaled deeply.
All moments were not equal.
Every second was not a grain of sand in an hourglass.
Time was bigger than him.
Maybe time wasn’t something that could be controlled at all; it was about making time matter with the people he cared about.
The speaker called Julian’s name from the podium, and he stood, took a few steps before realizing he was still holding on to Hallie’s hand. He’d nearly dragged her off the seat.
“Sorry.” He bent his head over her knuckles and kissed them, viewing the rapid intake of her breath and parting of her lips with the clarity of a man who’d just thrown out the script. Or had it been thrown out for him—he wasn’t totally sure, and, ironically, he didn’t have time to figure it out.
Julian accepted a plaque from the speaker. They stood shoulder to shoulder and posed for a flurry of photographs before he found himself in front of the microphone. He angled it higher to accommodate his height and set the plaque down on the podium. That’s when he realized the note cards containing bullet points for his speech were in the pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of Hallie’s chair. That really should have thrown him off, but he only found himself looking down at the table of women with a sense of . . . freedom.
The hell with the speech.
“Thank you very much for this honor. My father is grateful to the NVAV for recognizing his early contribution to the association after twenty years of success. He sends his appreciation from Italy.” Julian paused, traced a finger over the gold engraving. “I’m not going to accept this recognition on his behalf, though. I’m going to accept it on behalf of my mother.”
Some murmuring started around the ballroom, heads ducking toward each other, whispers ensuing behind hands. Julian didn’t really see any of it, because he was busy watching Hallie and Natalie and Corinne. People. His people.
Corinne appeared to be shell-shocked, but there was a distinct sheen in her eyes that, in turn, created an odd prickle in his throat. Natalie’s house of sugar packets had lost the battle with gravity, and finally, Hallie—God, he was so glad she was there—was smiling at him, her knuckles white in her lap. She was outshining the entire room, so beautiful he stumbled over his words and simply stared. What the hell had he been about to say?
Focus.
“My mother picked up the pieces after the fire four years ago,” he continued. “It might not be her family name on the label, but her fingerprints are on every bottle that leaves the vineyard, I can promise you that. Along with the hard work of our manager, Manuel, and the grounds crew that cultivate the grapes as if their last name were Vos, too. The vineyard only thrives because of them, because of Corinne Vos, and as much as we appreciate this honor, she should be acknowledged here today. And every day. Thank you.”
* * *
“I’m just saying, it would have added to the drama if you’d thrown the plaque across the ballroom into that wineglass pyramid,” Natalie said from the other side of the table, all while signaling the waiter for another round of drinks. Instead of staying for the free luncheon, they’d sensed the chill in the air and decided to find a local restaurant instead. “You offended the wine gods today, bro. They are going to demand a sacrifice as payment. Anyone know any virgins?”
At that, Hallie promptly choked on her Sauvignon Blanc.
Doing his best to remain expressionless, Julian squeezed her leg under the table. “Not a single one—you?”
“Not since our mother made me go to band camp in tenth grade. And I’m pretty sure the virgins were no longer innocent once it ended.” His sister fell back in her seat a little. “Band camp: an orgy with flutes.”
“Lower your voice, Natalie,” Corinne hissed, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there prior to the luncheon. “And that was a very reputable band program. You must be exaggerating.”
“We secretly called it bang camp, Mother.”
Corinne spat out her sip of wine, only managing to catch the tail end of spray with her napkin. “Jesus Christ,” she choked out. “Please spare me the knowledge that you participated in any kind of . . . banging.”
“Unless it was drum related,” Hallie qualified, making Natalie laugh.
Julian tugged her closer in the booth until their thighs were pressed together, her shoulder tucked beneath his armpit, curls close enough to count. There.
“What you said today, Julian . . .” Corinne said abruptly, some light color staining her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that. My work at the winery has been hard, but it was never a burden. It’s very rewarding.”
“Rewarding work can still be acknowledged,” Julian said.
“Yes.” His mother shifted in her seat. “But I didn’t need it to be pointed out publicly.”
Julian shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“That being said, it was very . . . nice.” She reached for the breadbasket, then seemingly decided against it. Fussed with her hair instead. “I didn’t mind it.”
Natalie buried her face in a cloth napkin. “Your son makes a dramatic speech in your honor in front of the foofiest winos in Napa and all you can say is ‘It was nice.’”
“I believe I said ‘very nice.’”
“Why are we the way that we are?” Natalie mused at the ceiling.
Corinne rolled her eyes at Natalie’s dramatics. “Would you rather we hugged constantly and had things like movie night?”
“I don’t know,” Natalie muttered. “Maybe? Just to experiment.”
Surprisingly, his mother didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject of togetherness right away. “Well, I’d need my children to stick around awhile for that. If they are so inclined.” She folded her hands on the table, her gaze fixing on Julian. “Julian, your fresh set of eyes on the vineyard is already making a difference. We have a plan—and I can’t remember the last time I could say that. I hope we can put your father’s harsh words where they belong. In the past. Forgotten. You aren’t merely welcome to help manage the winery . . . I would really like that. I hope it’s not temporary.”
Julian could feel Hallie’s questioning eyes on the side of his face. She was likely wondering what exactly his father had said to him. After the fire. After he’d pulled Natalie out of the shed where she’d been cornered by flames. That’s when the second half of the anxiety hit, making up for lost time, the adrenaline wearing off and the numbness stealing in. Rendering him useless to everyone when they needed him most.
It had all happened, right there in front of his family.
You’ve always been a fucking head case, haven’t you? Jesus Christ. Look at you. Pull yourself together. Stick to teaching and just . . . stay away from what I’ve built, all right? Stay away from the vineyard.
Yes, he now was determined to help revitalize the winery with or without the approval of his father, but would that niggle of doubt in his abilities ever truly go away? Maybe. Maybe not. But his independent mother was openly asking for help. She really needed it—and he wanted to give it. Wanted to bring the land of his legacy back from the brink of failure and help it thrive. For so long, he hadn’t allowed himself to miss the place. The process. But just like Natalie said to the SEAL last night, fermentation was in his blood.
And yeah, last but certainly far from least, Hallie was here.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, looking down at the woman herself.
Letting her know. I’m staying. We’re doing this.
God, she was beautiful. He couldn’t stop staring—
Natalie coughed into her fist, effectively breaking the spell between them. “Let’s circle back to my days in bang camp.”
Julian shook his head at Natalie. “Let’s not. It was bad enough watching my sister’s attempts at flirting this week. Not once but twice.”
Natalie sat up straighter. “Attempts?”
Julian’s mouth twitched. “I’ll let the end result speak for itself.”
“Oh you’re the expert, are you?” His sister sputtered a moment, before her attention zipped to Hallie. “Since my brother seems to be implying that he’s an expert at flirting, please tell us about his masterful technique.”
Hallie dove in without a single hesitation, flattening a hand to her chest. “Well, first, he forgot we knew each other in high school. That really got the ball rolling. But then . . .” She fanned her face. “He criticized my gardening technique and called me chaotic. That really sealed the deal.”
Memories stomped to the forefront of his mind, his stomach roiling. He turned to Hallie to apologize, but she spoke again before he could get there.
“Unfortunately, he foiled my plan to ignore him, when he bought three cases of wine from my favorite shop on Grapevine Way. Corked. They’ve been in danger of closing down for a while and it was my grandmother’s favorite place. I told him that, never knowing he would have business cards made for Lorna and finagle you all into passing them out at Wine Down. And then have a brand-new awning installed, giving the place a much-needed face-lift that would triple her business overnight.”
Julian realized his jaw was in his lap and snapped his mouth shut. “You knew?”
“I knew.”
He grunted, finding it difficult to look at her in public with that shy gratitude on her gorgeous face. He didn’t need credit for his deeds, but the proof that they’d served their purpose and made her happy? God, he’d choose her smile over oxygen, right here and now. Any day of the week. And if she thought she was happy now, tonight could not come fast enough. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was holding out for Corked’s new line of merch, of course.”
“T-shirts and corkscrews would be a good start,” he said gruffly.
When did he get close enough to kiss her? With a hard clearing of his throat, Julian put an appropriate distance between them. But that distance didn’t last very long, because his sister, wine drunk as usual, said something next that made Hallie scoot closer. “Don’t forget about how he masterminded children’s story time at Wine Down, Hallie.” She dropped her voice to a baritone. “‘I don’t like it when Hallie is in distress. I will explode if I don’t fix it for her.’”
All right. Now he was starting to sweat. “Enough, Natalie.”
“Did you really . . . you said that?”
“Perhaps some version of it,” he answered briskly. “Are we ready to order?”
“I’ll have one of you, please,” Hallie said, for his ears alone. In a way that was clearly meant to be spoken inside of her head, not out.
A hard object flipped in Julian’s chest, and he pressed his mouth to her temple, inhaling the paradise scent of her hair. Skin. Hallie. “You’ve already got me, sweetheart.”