Page 62 of Gone With the Wine

I meet his eyes and he holds my gaze steadily. “Thank you.”

“What can I do to help?”

I huff out a breath and smile. “Do you have an extra capacitor?”

“I have no idea. But I can ask someone.”

“You don’t,” I say. “But thank you.”

“You can use my crush machine.”

“Your crush machine is busy.” I wave a hand. My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out. “Rosa.” I answer. “Hi.”

“Jake’s back,” she says. “He’s got a capacitor.”

“Oh my God. How?”

“He went back to Dr. Armstrong at the college.”

Dr. Armstrong is one of the top viticulture and enology experts in the field, and a former prof of Jake’s. She helped him find workers for Caparelli.

“She came to the rescue again,” Rosa continues. “She got hold of someone in the electronic engineering department. They made a capacitor!”

“Oh my God. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah! They’re working on it right now.”

I meet Jansen’s eyes and smile. “Great. Let me know if you need me.”

“Okay.”

I end the call and shove my phone back in my pocket. I relate Rosa’s call to him.

“Jake’s a miracle worker.”

I feel bad about being so hard on him. He’s been amazing. “Okay, one problem solved. Now back to work.”

“You’re working too hard.”

I give him an incredulous look. “It’s harvest.”

“Did you eat lunch?” He frowns.

One corner of my mouth lifts. “Yes, sir, I did eat.”

“Good. Do you need help over at Caparelli? Because I can spare some people.”

I cock my head. “We’re okay. Millie and Miles and Nolan and Ana are there, and they put out the word that we need help so we have a bunch of volunteers. This community can drive me crazy, but also they’re good people. And my ad for people wanting to get a true harvest experience got us a bunch more people. Tourists. They think it’s fun.” I grin.

“Genius.”

“But thank you.” I lay a purple-stained hand on his forearm and look up at him. “Seriously. That’s kind of you.”

After a beat, he nods brusquely. “If you’re sure.”

“We’re good. Really.”

Our eyes meet and we stand surrounded by equipment, grapes, and bees. His gaze drops to my throat where my pulse is fluttering wildly. My lips part involuntarily, my hand still on his arm. I swallow and step back.

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