He pressed his lips to hers just as Shelley returned carrying a big covered basket.
“Okay, smoochers,” she said. “Follow me.”
Abby put on her sweater, and they followed Shelley out the back door. The winery was U-shaped, with a gorgeous patio between the two wings of the building. The sun was making its descent, hovering in the distance, trailing ribbons of gold and fire-orange across the sky.
Shelley led them past the stone knee wall that separated the vineyards from the winery as Archer, Jock’s twin, walked out from between two rows of vines. Archer was much brawnier than Jock, with a thick chest and bulbous biceps. He kept his brown hair military short, though he was never in the military.
Archer nodded at Abby and said, “Great to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Abby embraced him. It was like hugging stone.
He lifted his chin in Aiden’s direction, offering his hand. “Archer Steele. You must be Aiden. I like your style, dude.”
Abby looked at Aiden’s touristy baseball cap, wrinkled linen shirt and pants, and wondered if Archer was making fun of him. If he was, it didn’t appear to bother Aiden.
“Thank you,” Aiden said, shaking Archer’s hand. “Your winemaking reputation precedes you.”
Archer cracked a proud grin. “Thanks. We do all right.”
“I’d say a gold Sommeliers Choice Award for your cabernet sauvignon is better than all right.”
Leni had told Abby about the award he’d won last August, but Shelley hadn’t mentioned it during the tour, and Abby didn’t remember seeing the award or a plaque announcing it inside. Aiden must have noticed one, or done his research.
“We’ll see how we do this year,” Archer said. “Enjoy yourselves tonight.” He glanced at Shelley and said, “You’re all set.”
“Thanks, honey. Tell your father I’ll be right in.” As Archer walked away, Shelley handed the basket to Aiden and said, “Everything you need is here. If you go right down that row and take a left at the end, you’ll find the perfect spot for your wine tasting. And when you’re done, leave everything where it is. We’ll take care of it.”
“Aren’t tastings typically done here?” Abby pointed to the courtyard.
Shelley leaned closer to her and lowered her voice to say, “Honey, I think your new beau has already figured out that you are anything but a typical woman.” She gave her a quick squeeze and said, “Go have fun. Stay all night if you want to.”
As Shelley headed into the winery, Aiden said, “Let’s go, babe. Our sunset awaits.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as they walked between the tall vines.
“You’ll see.”
“What will I see? You’re carrying a huge basket, and we’re walking through the vineyard without Archer or his parents, which everyone knows is not allowed. He’s more protective of these vines than you are of Remi.” Suddenly strings of lights strung from the tall posts of the vine fencing bloomed to life, illuminating their way. “Whoa. Aiden . . . ?”
He motioned to the end of the row and said, “Left, babe.”
Abby stepped past the last of the vines and turned left. Her thoughts fell away at the sight of shimmering lanterns hanging on the tall wooden posts at the end of each row of vines, leading up to the most romantic picnic she’d ever seen. A rustic wooden table sat low to the ground atop a gorgeous decorative rug with large colorful pillows along one side for them to sit on. A bouquet of red, white, and pink roses graced the center of the table, with two elegant place settings and fancy wineglasses side by side. More lanterns twinkled in the grass.
“Aid . . . ?” she said, utterly awestruck. “I feel like I’m on an episode of The Bachelor. Where are the cameras?”
“No cameras. You’re stuck with a regular guy chillin’ on Silver Island with his beautiful girl.” He put the basket and his sweater down, thrilled that the Steeles had made their picnic as special as he’d requested.
“I can’t get over this. When did you have time to meet with Shelley and set this up?”
“When we were cleaning yesterday and I went on that coffee run.”
She gasped. “You sneaky little fibber! You said the line was out the door.”
“I didn’t fib. The line was out the door. But since I supply my own coffee beans, all I had to do was call Keira and pick it up at the side counter, so I came here to meet with Shelley before picking it up. I just used my time creatively.”
“Like your creative repayment options? Well, I hope you know that you didn’t have to do this. I’d have been happy with grilled cheese on my front porch.”
He took her hand, tugging her into his arms, and said, “Your easy nature is just one of the reasons you’re becoming so special to me. I would have been happy with grilled cheese on your porch, too. But if the way you work on the restaurant is any indication of how you live your life—and I fully believe it is—then you’re as much of a workaholic as I have always been. That’s a great thing, Abs, and it’s appealing to a guy like me, who enjoys putting my nose to the grindstone and rarely coming up for air. But you’re helping me discover that perfect days like today are even better than burying myself in work. I wanted to do something special for you, and selfishly, I wanted to see that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The look of wonder, appreciation, curiosity. The look that asks why I did this, but at the same time, shows me how much you love it.”
“Oh. That look,” she said softly.
“Yeah, it’s a great look, babe. Grilled cheese is awesome, and we’ll have our grilled cheese dates, but this is what you deserve, Abigail de Messiéres, and I think it’s time you stop telling me what I don’t have to do and start enjoying what I want to do.”
She looked at him for a long moment, as if she were mulling over his words, before saying, “You must have girls falling at your feet.”
“Jesus,” he said, frustrated. “I must really suck at this wooing thing. After everything I said to you, you still think I do this type of thing willy-nilly? For just any woman?”
“Well, no, but . . .”
“But?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her cheeks blushing. “I guess I’m not used to being wooed.”
“Then get used to it. I might not be the best at chilling with my feet in the sand, but I was raised right. And at almost forty years old, I know the difference between spending time with a woman to scratch an itch and being with someone who makes me feel and think and want things I have never wanted before.” He tossed his hat on the blanket, realizing he’d said more than he’d intended, and by the intense look on Abby’s face, she’d heard every word. Well, hell. He didn’t know how he felt about that.
That was a lie.
He knew exactly how he felt. He’d wanted her to hear it. But that was a slippery slope, and though he wasn’t sure he wanted to plant his feet on stable ground, he wasn’t looking for a landslide that could bury them both.
Forcing those unfamiliar and overpowering emotions down deep, he tried to play it off in a lighter way. “What do you say, Runner Girl? Think two workaholics can enjoy tonight without picking it apart, or are we going to stand here talking and miss our sunset?”