Page 190 of Taken Away

Lockwood sat up a little straighter.

At the bar, Declan’s fingers tightened around the stem of his glass before he set it down and smoothed his tie like a man resetting his face.

Bennett went still for half a second.

Anyone who hadn’t known him wouldn’t have noticed.

Declan did.

Anne took in the room with a slow sweep—exposed beams, suspended bar, massive glass wall framing the vines. Her mouth curved.

“Well,” she said. “Mabel did know how to make an entrance, didn’t she?”

“Depends who you ask,” Chloe muttered, then winced when Savannah elbowed her lightly.

Declan slid off his stool as though he’d only just noticed her. Above his shoulder, Walter had gone completely still.

Declan knew exactly who she was. He wore polite curiosity like a suit.

“Now there’s a face I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of,” he said, stepping into her path. “Declan O’Rourke.” The Irish lilt wrapped around the syllables, easy and charming. “I do some work for the winery.”

Anne’s gaze flicked over him, quick and assessing. “Lawyer?” she asked.

“Something like that.” His eyes crinkled. “And you must be⁠—“

“Anne,” she supplied. “Aubrey’s mother.”

Declan’s smile broadened exactly the right amount.

“Ah,” he said. “That explains the rumors.” He tipped his head toward the mezzanine. “You gave the whole of City Limits heart palpitations this afternoon, so I hear.”

Anne laughed, the sound rolling through the barn. “I just walked in for a burger,” she said. “Everybody else decided it was an event.”

“I’d say that’s on them,” Declan replied. “Not on you.”

Behind the bar, Bennett finally moved.

He came out from behind the counter, towel still in one hand.

“Ms. Langford,” Bennett said.

Anne looked his way.

Bennett held himself the way he always did—shoulders back, weight easy, eyes steady. Only the muscle flexing along his jaw and the towel tightening in his hand gave him away.

“Bennett McCrae,” Anne said softly, taking him in.

“So you’re the one...who’s been keeping this place alive while my daughter figures out which end of a corkscrew is which?” Anne asked lightly.

Savannah’s shoulders stiffened.

“So far she’s doin’ fine all on her own,” Lockwood put in from his stool. “We just try not to get in her way.”

Anne’s gaze drifted to the young man sitting at the bar.

“And you are?”

He stood, offering a polite smile.