"You were charming."
"I was an embarrassment."
"You called my fourth-year vintage audacious. I've never been more flattered."
She gave a startled laugh that made something warm unfurling in his chest. *That's what I wanted to hear.*
He could feel her gaze on him—quick, furtive glances that she probably thought he didn't notice—and he let her look.
Let her take whatever time she needs.Because he’d already decided that this careful, guarded, quietly stubborn woman who looked at him like he was both a puzzle and a threat was worth waiting for. However long it took.
CHAPTER 7
Marigold hesitated again when they reached a path that wound along the side of the vineyard towards a cluster of trees.
"I'm not sure…"
"This is strictly professional," Thallos repeated.
"Right."
"I have a very comfortable couch."
"I'm sure you do."
"And a ceiling fan."
She stood very still, acutely aware of the heat pressing down on her shoulders, the sweat already gathering at the small of her back.
*He's offering you a ceiling fan. A comfortable couch.*
*He's offering you an excuse to stay.*
"I should go," she said, but the words came out weak and unconvincing even to herself.
He tilted his head, studying her with an expression she couldn't quite read. Patient. Expectant. Like he had all the time in the world.
"You could," he agreed. "Drive back into town, sweltering in your car, only to realize we still need to discuss the applications. Or…" He let the word hang there, baited and gleaming. "You could come up to the cabin, enjoy some air conditioning, and we could actually get some work done."
*Air conditioning.*
It was such a mundane detail. Such a practical, unsexy, completely reasonable detail. And yet somehow, coming from his mouth, it felt like a dare.
"Fine," she heard herself say. "But just to get the paperwork sorted. Then I'm leaving."
His smile was slow and satisfied.
"I wouldn't dream of keeping you."
The path to the cabin wound along the older section of the vineyard, where the vines were thicker and more established, their gnarled trunks speaking to decades of careful cultivation. She could hear the faint hum of bees moving between wild flowers at the row edges and the distant sound of water trickling somewhere nearby.
It was beautiful. Quietly, unexpectedly beautiful.
"How long have you had this place?" she asked, grateful for something neutral to talk about.
"The vineyard's been here for three generations. The cabin I rebuilt myself, about five years ago." He walked beside her, keeping his pace measured to match hers. "There was an old structure that had mostly fallen down. Only the stone foundation and a few walls were left. I kept what I could and added the rest."
"You built it yourself? Literally by yourself?"
