Page 63 of The Spark Between Us

I plucked a bunch of purple grapes from one of the vines, pulled a few of the grapes into my hand, and held them out for Sarah to taste. She grabbed two, and I tossed the rest in my mouth. “Mmm, these are delicious.” It warmed my entire body to hear her moan with delight.

“These vines descended from a crop that came from France originally—from cuttings taken from a pretty prestigious vineyard at a chateau there. I got lucky. That’s probably why I’ve been able to turn this hobby into more of a side business. The wine is crazy good.”

I led her to another row of vines with white grapes and we sampled them.

She pointed to the vine. “The grapes taste good, but I guess I don’t have a very fine palate. How do you distinguish a grape that’s going to make crazy good wine?”

“Time, practice, trial and error, luck...then so much of it is the process, the enzymes, the temperature regulation and the fermentation time. Again, trial and error, a lot of luck, a lot of tasting and spitting out bad wine.” I couldn’t pretend to know everything. “I’m still learning about this stuff, batch by batch, tweaking things, trying new things.”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what I do every day in the lab. My welding project isn’t going to produce something that tastes as good as wine, and I sure need a lot of luck, but...” For the first time, I saw the concern in her face that maybe she wouldn’t make her milestones or get the outcome she hoped for.

That vulnerability tugged at a part of me that desperately wanted to help her get there, even if I knew nothing about friction stir welding. “How about we go grab dinner and talk it through? I’ve been meaning to ask where you are with the project. You haven’t talked about it.”

“Only because my head’s stuck in the middle of it. But sure, I’d love to tell you.”

“Do you like Italian?” I figured the odds were good—who didn’t like Italian?

“Love it. But don’t think I’m leaving here before I taste some wine from your fancy French grape children.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” I pointed to the small stone building near the entry to the vineyard. “The property owner used to live in the loft of the tasting room, and it makes for a pretty cozy sleepover. I already stocked it with several types of wine we can have after dinner.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned her head on my chest. “We’re sleeping in a loft? I love that.” Stroking her hair, I leaned down and rested my cheek on the top of her head.

There nothing about this moment I didn’t love. It was going to get me in trouble—I could just feel it.

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