Page 88 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
And I have fallen in love with him—not despite these qualities but because of how they intertwine with his passion, his integrity, his capacity for growth, and the depth of feeling he brings to everything that matters to him.
"I still need to go to San Francisco," I say softly. "To resolve things with Davis and Catherine, to properly consider these options from a place of clarity rather than emotion."
He nods, having expected this answer. "The Denver Wine Festival is in three weeks. I'll be there, presenting Silverleaf officially. And hopefully,"his voice drops, intimate and intent, "meeting a certain sommelier who might be interested in discussing a unique partnership arrangement."
"She might be," I reply, my voice unsteady with emotions I'm no longer trying to suppress. "If the terms are right."
"I'm willing to negotiate quite extensively." His hand rises to cup my cheek, the touch sending familiar electricity through me. "On most points."
"Most?"
"The non-negotiable term is that whatever we build acknowledges the reality that I've fallen in love with you, Elena Santiago." The declaration is simple, straightforward, delivered with the same quiet certainty with which he discusses his wines. "Inconvenient timing, impossible geography, and professional complications notwithstanding."
The words I've been afraid to acknowledge even to myself, spoken aloud in the clear mountain air between us. "Dominic?—"
"You don't need to say anything now," he interrupts gently. "Take the time you need in San Francisco. Consider the proposals. Make your decision based on complete information and clear perspective, not the pressure of this moment."
His restraint and respect for my need to process decisions carefully only confirm what my heart already knows. But he's right—this is not the moment for hasty declarations or promises I'm not sure I can keep.
"Three weeks," I say instead. "The Denver Wine Festival."
"I'll be there." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Terrified, but there."
"And I'll witness Silverleaf's triumphant public debut." I lean into his touch.
The promise hangs between us, weighted with potential. When Dominic kisses me, it carries the bittersweetness of a temporary parting, but also the anticipation of a future reunion. Unlike our previous kisses—urgent with discovery orheated with passion—this one is deliberate, a pledge sealed with the press of lips.
When we separate, Ruth's voice calls from a not-very-distant hiding place: "Is it safe to come back? Has he properly groveled yet?"
"Ruth!" Margie's scandalized whisper carries clearly in the mountain air.
Dominic rolls his eyes, but the smile he gives me is genuine. "My support network lacks subtlety."
"They love you," I say simply. "They want you to be happy."
"And you? What do you want?"
I consider my answer carefully, wanting to offer truth without promises I'm not ready to make. "I want to see what's possible," I say finally. "Between us, between Silverleaf and my career, between the life I planned and the one I never saw coming."
His expression lightens, hope replacing caution. "Then we're already aligned on the most important point."
Ruth reappears. "Hate to break up this touching scene, but if Elena's going to make her flight, she needs to leave now."
Reality intrudes, as it must. I secure the precious bottle carefully in my carry-on, tucking the flash drive into my wallet where it won't be lost. Final goodbyes are exchanged—warm hugs from Margie and Martha, a knowing wink from Ruth, and a solemn paw-shake from Merlot, who seems slightly less despondent now that the tension between Dominic and me has eased.
When I finally slide behind the wheel, Dominic leans down for one last word, his voice pitched for my ears alone: "Whatever you decide, Silverleaf will always welcome you. As will I."
As I drive away, watching his figure grow smaller in my rearview mirror, Ifeel not the wrenching pain of final separation but the bittersweet ache of temporary parting. Three weeks stretch before me—time to consider proposals, confront Davis, clarify my professional standing, and determine whether the risk of pursuing this unexpected connection is one I'm prepared to take.
The bottle of "First Snowfall" rides beside me, its message encircling the label in Dominic's steady handwriting:Some collisions are meant to happen. Some storms change landscapes forever. Some risks are worth taking.
With each mile that carries me away from Silverleaf, one certainty grows clearer: I'm no longer the same woman who arrived in Angel's Peak. Whatever decision awaits me in three weeks' time, I've already been transformed by the vineyard on the mountain and the man who tends it with such passionate precision.
Chapter 23
The Denver WineFestival hums with energy around me, hundreds of industry professionals navigating the elegant ballroom of the Brown Palace Hotel. Crystal glasses clink, and passionate debates about terroir and vintage conditions fill the air. Everywhere, the subtle dance of business relationships forms and evolves amid the controlled chaos.
Less than a month ago, I left Angel's Peak with a bottle of impossibly young wine and a flash drive full of possibilities. Now I stand in this crowded festival as someone whose professional standing has both diminished and expanded in ways I couldn't have predicted.
