Season of Change(96)

                But he didn’t reach for her. He didn’t press his body against hers. He didn’t cover her lips with his.

                Christine went inside, disappointed.

                But there was also hope. Hope because she loved him and she’d seen something in his eyes that led her to believe that he felt something for her, too.





                                      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

                “DID YOU SEE that another Hollywood movie raised millions of dollars for production through crowdsourcing?” Ryan said, making himself a cup of green tea in the farmhouse kitchen.

                “Crowdsourcing? That’s where anyone can donate money to finance something? Don’t they get a T-shirt for their ten-dollar investment?” Christine was on her second cup of coffee, trying to compensate for not sleeping well last night. She planned to use the dose of caffeine to tell Ryan this gig of theirs was in jeopardy.

                Slade was wrong. He didn’t need to prove to the ghost of his father that life was worth living by making tons of money. He needed to take off his tie and start trusting people again. His daughters. The town. Her.

                But Slade was right, too. She knew the experience had made him strong, made him who he was today—strong enough to wear a tie in a far-flung valley during a hundred-degree hot spell. She couldn’t overcome his beliefs about his scar and about money. He’d have to do that on his own.

                Was she strong enough for a relationship with him?

                “Each crowdsourcing project is different,” Ryan was saying. “Some people are cheap, and they get a T-shirt. Some people get really excited and put up the big bucks. In return, they get to be an extra or go to the movie premiere.” Ryan was only seven years younger than Christine, but sometimes she felt really old. Who could keep up with new developments like crowdsourcing?

                “Ryan, what’s your point?” This didn’t sound like watercooler talk. And she had to check email before supervising the truck scale delivery and installation.

                Ryan leaned against the counter, watching her add milk to her mug. “We still haven’t found anyone to help us with the harvest, right?”

                “Don’t remind me.” The image of grapes rotting on the vines kept her awake at night almost as much as her worry about her career and her feelings for Slade. It was a wonder she slept at all lately.

                “But things like co-ops and crowdsourcing pool resources. We could, like, have the people of Harmony Valley help with the harvest and give them something—maybe a case of wine and a ticket to the vintage release party. Forty acres isn’t huge. We can do it with ten or twenty people in a day or two.”

                “That’s a great idea.” Christine stared at the swirl of milk in her coffee. her mind turning along with it. “Except for one thing.”

                “What?” Ryan brushed his thick brown hair out of his eyes.

                “Harvest is physically demanding. Everyone who lives here—and doesn’t own or work for the winery—is old. Really old.”

                “I kind of worried about that.” But clearly, he had hoped.

                “We’ll come up with something.” Christine patted his arm, but she wasn’t completely convinced they would.

                Worse, if the partners sold the winery and she and Ryan were let go, they wouldn’t need a solution. The grapes would rot on the vine, as they had for years.