Page 11 of Baby for my Daddy's Best Friend

“I see. I hope everything’s okay with Valentino—you guys looked pretty serious.”

“My apologies about that.” I frown. “Just a minor mishap. These things are normal for a business of our scale.”

I half-expect her to probe me about what happened. Surely, she has some questions, considering how she was right there when Micah came to get us. But to my surprise, she simply shrugs it off.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

It’s not something I’m used to. Usually, girls are interested in all the drama and I have no interest in gossip.

She’s managed to impress me once again.

“It’s a bit dark out to go into the vineyard itself.”

Her face falls. “Oh, I was hoping to see it for myself.” But she quickly recovers. “No worries, though. Maybe another time.”

“I never said that it meant our tour won’t still happen. We can do a tour of the cellars, and then I’ll take you to the museum.”

“The museum?” Her eyes sparkle. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. We do things a bit differently around here.”

The cool, musty air hits us as we enter the cellar. Not quite the luxury experience, but Quinn looks happier than I’ve seen her all day.

She breathes in the earthy scent of the fermenting grapes and moans. “You could bottle up this scent in a perfume, and I’d buy it by the dozen.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “I’m not sure if there’s a market for that.”

“Of course there is.” She slides her fingers along the aging barrels and glistening bottles. “People like me would love it.”

“People like you?” I watch her walk ahead of me.

Her passion for the craft is hard to ignore. As is the way her hips swing with each step she takes.

I drink in the sight of her, wondering if she knows how sexy she is without even trying.

“This is where the magic happens.” I catch up to her, stuffing my hands in my pockets. A proud smile etches across my lips as I take in the sight.

These walls hold decades of craftsmanship and are proof of the business I’ve worked so hard to establish.

“I feel like a kid on Christmas,” she admits with a laugh. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Well, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

I talk to her as I show her all the places where the magic happens. “After crushing the grapes, we allow them to ferment.”

“And do you monitor the temperature throughout, or let it fluctuate naturally?”

I pause mid-step, a slight smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Sheknowswhat she is talking about.

“We monitor it closely to control the flavor profile,” I reply, impressed by her insight.

As we reach the end, I pause at a doorway. “Just one second—I’ll be right back.”

I slip inside the small room without offering much of an explanation.

When I return, she’s looking at me. But the moment she spots the bottle in my hands, her face lights up again.

---