Page 23 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
He works in silence, sleeves pushed up, jaw tight. I trail behind him, barefoot, and try not to shiver, wringing out towels and refusing to think about the fact that every minute brings us closer to bedtime.
By the time we’ve shut the door on the now-abandoned guest room, my hair’s damp at the temples, and my chest aches from holding in whatever this pressure is building betweenus.
The landline rings.
Dominic grabs it without hesitation, water still dripping from his arm.
“Mercer.” His voice is rough, but steady.
He listens for a moment, nodding once.
“She’s fine. She’s staying in my room.”
There’s a flick of his gaze to mine.
Like he knows I can hear him. Like he wants me to.
Another pause.
Then, flatly: “Goodnight.”
He hangs up.
Doesn’t explain.
Doesn’t ask if I’m okay with it.
He just walks past me into his room, leaving the door open behind him. An invitation. Or a command. Maybe both.
I step in after him, my legs shaking, caught in a storm that has nothing to do with the weather anymore.
"Who was that?"
He turns to me, his face unreadable. "Sheriff Donovan. The pass is completely closed. Avalanche danger is too high for even emergency vehicles."
"For how long?" My stomach drops.
"Three days, minimum."
Three days trapped in this house with Dominic Mercer. Three days of this unsettling awareness that hums between us like a live wire. Three days to either secure the business deal of my career, or ruin it completely.
"I hope you have more wine," I say, aiming for lightness. "We're going to need it."
Chapter 6
Dominic doesn’t say anything.Doesn’t turn around. Just peels off his damp shirt, tossing it into a nearby hamper as if he’s alone.
His muscles shift beneath sun-browned skin, shadows catching in the grooves of his spine. There’s another scar along his ribcage—thin, silvery, brutal. I don’t look away fast enough.
“Shower’s there, if you want one,” he says without facing me. “Towels in the cabinet. Take your time.”
His voice is quiet. Controlled. But something about it curls low and tight in my stomach.
“Thanks,” I manage, backing out of the room with more haste than grace. I barely make it to the hallway before I exhale.
One bed.
And several hours to kill before I’m expected to climb into it… with him.
