“A very real fear, as it turns out.” She waited for him to meet her gaze, trying to stop the mantra her heart crooned: Talk to me, reassure me, love me.
Without looking at her, Slade sat in the folding chair on the other side of her desk. He shifted, trying to get comfortable. “We need to order better chairs. Maybe even go by that warehouse store you like so much.”
Be still, my foolish, foolish heart.
She started straightening her desk. “I like the implication that we’ll still be in business next month. What were you painting this morning?”
He looked absently at his black-splattered tie, as if he’d forgotten the paint. “The sheriff’s office. The girls are still there, painting the bars with Truman.”
“Let’s hope that’s the only time they know what it’s like to be in a jail cell.”
“They wore different outfits today.” He used his papa-bear smile, the one that made her melt. The one that made her forget he was her boss.
She thought about snowcapped mountains in Chile and unemployment checks. “That’s huge. Good for the girls. And good for you, too.”
“And they hugged me.” He stared at his hands. “I never thought they’d hug me.”
“Two milestones in one day.” A ding sounded, notifying Christine that she had an email. She glanced at her laptop screen and couldn’t look away. “Excuse me.”
Slade waited.
“It’s from the human-resources department at Lalopolle Winery. They say if their offer for the bottling permits goes through, they’d like me to come in and interview for a position.” Her world threatened to capsize. She gripped the seat of her chair. “What do they know that I don’t?”
Slade scowled. “The partnership isn’t selling.”
“Says the man with a price. The man who told me he’d make the recommendation to sell.” Self-preservation and childhood dreams elbowed fledgling love for Slade aside. Her father was right. It was time to jump ship. She lifted her hands to the keyboard. “I need to schedule an interview.”
“Don’t.”
She waited for him to say she’d be the one to make this venture a success for the partnership. She waited for him to say he couldn’t wait to taste their first vintage. She waited for him to say he didn’t want her to go, that he needed her, that he couldn’t live without her.
Heck, she didn’t need to hold out for a declaration of love or a ring. She’d settle for some small sign. A gentle smile, a hand on her cheek, a kiss that said he couldn’t live without her. Anything that explained his objection to her interviewing elsewhere.
His eyes flickered, shuttered. “Forget what I said. You should accept the interview.” He was always releasing her, even when she could tell he didn’t want to.
She knew then that it would take an earthquakelike act of nature for him to meet her halfway. She needed to stop listening to her heart. She needed to listen to her father. She needed to abandon ship.
One more day, her heart whispered, as if that would make a difference. One more day.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN