Page 52 of Taken Away

Something unreadable flickered across his face before he smoothed it away.

“Well,” he said when she reached him, voice rougher than before. “That’s significantly better than the Penn sweatshirt.”

Aubrey lifted a brow.

“Careful. You’re staring.”

“Occupational hazard.”

“Take a picture,” she said smoothly. “It lasts longer.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Like you did this morning?”

Heat shot straight into her face.

Across the room, Savannah nearly choked on champagne.

“Oh my God,” Aubrey hissed.

“You left your phone face up on the kitchen counter, Princess.”

“That was an invasion of privacy.”

“That,” Bennett said calmly, “was amateur hour.”

A laugh slipped out before she could stop it.

For one brief second his expression shifted—warmer, younger—then one of the distributors approached.

“McCrae,” the silver-haired man said, offering his hand to Aubrey. “You must be the niece.”

“Aubrey Langford.”

“Stephen Reynolds.” He smiled. “Your winemaker’s been intimidating half the restaurant industry all afternoon insisting nobody else in western North Carolina can touch your Cabernet Franc.”

Bennett didn’t even blink.

“Because they can’t.”

Stephen laughed.

“You see what we deal with?”

Aubrey glanced at Bennett.

“I’m starting to.”

Savannah appeared with fresh wine.

“Tree of Life Reserve,” she told Aubrey quietly. “Brace yourself.”

Aubrey accepted the glass.

“You all act like this wine cures disease.”

“It might,” Savannah said.