"And if what I want is…" She couldn't quite finish the sentence.
But he understood. Of course he understood.
"Then I'll be the luckiest satyr in Harmony Glen."
She changed her outfit three times before settling on a dress—soft green cotton, the color of new leaves, with a neckline that was perhaps slightly lower than her usual choices. She told herself it was because of the heat. She knew she was lying.
He had promised dinner at his cabin. Just the two of them. No dance lessons, no festival planning, no interruptions.
She knew what that meant. What she wanted it to mean.
The walk to the vineyard felt different than all the other times she'd made this journey. Longer somehow, the anticipation stretching each step into an eternity. The sun was setting, painting the sky in rose and gold stripes, and the air smelled of ripening grapes and summer flowers.
When she reached the cabin, he was waiting on the porch.
He'd dressed up too in a white linen shirt, open at the collar, and an engraved leather belt. His hair was damp, like he'd just bathed. His eyes found hers across the distance and held.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
*Eloquent, Bloom. Really masterful.*
He came down the porch steps, moving with that particular grace that had made her nervous the first time she'd seen him. Now it made her mouth water.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"You look…" She gestured vaguely. "Also beautiful."
His smile was warm, fond, understanding. "Nervous?"
"Terrified."
"Good. Me too."
"You are?"
"I've been wanting this for weeks." He took her hand, led her up the steps and into the cabin. "Wanting you for weeks. And now that it's actually happening, I'm terrified I'll mess it up somehow."
The cabin was warm with candlelight, dozens of candles scattered across every available surface. The table was set for two, something delicious-smelling keeping warm in covered dishes. Music played softly from somewhere she couldn't identify.
"You did all this?" she asked.
"I wanted it to be special."
"It is. It's…" She turned to face him, suddenly overcome. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"
"I'm starting to believe it." He cupped her face in his hands. "Because of you. Because of the way you look at me like I'm more than just a charming satyr with a nice vineyard."
"You are more."
"I know. Now. You helped me see it."
He kissed her, soft and sweet, and she melted into him the way she'd been wanting to melt all week.
"Dinner first," he murmured against her mouth. "I didn't spend three hours cooking just to have it go cold."
"You cooked?"
