Page 52 of Sweet Escape

And what does he mean by designating me as CEO? Does that mean he’s signing everything over? Or giving me a title? What role is he planning to have?

My eyes connect with Micah’s over the heads of our workers.

What does this mean for my brother? He works this land constantly, and though he might not be the business-minded type I am, he’s just as passionate about the vineyard. I’ve always known it was my father’s intention to pass the business down to me—his eldest son—as has been the generational tradition since my great-great grandfather back in the early 1900s.

But it’s one thing to know it in theory, and another to look your brother in the eyes—the one who busts his ass, laboring, day in and day out—knowing that he’s seen as ... nothing more than an employee.

Something about it doesn’t feel right.

I doubt Murphy will care at all. But Micah ...

He nods at me, his expression soft, before looking away, out to the rows of vines stretched out before us and the muted light in the sky, the sun having already dipped behind the mountains in the distance.

Something wells up inside me. Something that’s a mixture of sadness and irritation and confusion. And guilt.

But I do my best to tuck it away. Set it aside for now.

There is plenty of time for me to address ... whatever this is. For me to make sure that whatever next steps are taken, they’re the right ones.

Right now, though, there’s work to do.

Twenty minutes later, everyone has finished eating, and we’ve cleared away all the plates, trash, and tables. The part-time and full-time crewstand at the base of the steps that lead down from the back patio, on the path that leads around and through the vineyard.

My attention snags on a flash of copper-colored hair. Vivian is chatting easily with Murphy and Naomi. She throws her head back and laughs, and I don’t miss the many eyes that turn her way, probably observing her in the same way I am.

Part of me is a little surprised that she hasn’t come to talk with me at all. I had assumed she’d try to slip by me in the kitchen or sit across from me at a table. But she’s been wrapped up in her conversations, completely ignorant of the fact that I’ve been struggling to keep my eyes off her.

It almost makes me laugh.

There I was, worried she was going to be too demanding or desperate for my attention, and she hasn’t looked at me once.

I don’t know if I should think it’s funny or be offended.

Maybe a little of both.

But then her eyes connect with mine, like she knew exactly where I was standing, and she winks my way before returning her focus to Naomi.

Just like that, I realize how much I want her attention on me.

“What’s that look for?”

I turn to look at my dad, who has stepped up to my side. “Huh?”

“That look? Haven’t seen a smile like that from you in I can’t remember how long.”

I wipe my face clean. “I’m not smiling.”

My dad turns and looks out to the right where Vivian stands off to the side. I don’t miss the way his brows furrow when he spots her.

“Isn’t that ...” He trails off, his eyes flicking back to mine.

I don’t doubt he’s remembering Vivian from the kitchen last weekend. It might have been the middle of the night, but I doubt anyone who has ever met her has failed to remember her.

She’s that kind of unforgettable.

“Is the redhead talking to your sister and Naomi the same one ...”

“I’d really like you to not ask that question,” I say, interrupting him before he can get the entire thing out. “Because I’d really like to not have to answer it.”

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