"Remember," I said quietly, straightening his tie in what I told myself was a purely professional gesture, "we're representing a partnership between Sparkling Oak and Rhodes Select. This is business. Nothing more."
His eyes darkened as my fingers brushed against his chest. "Nothing more," he agreed, but the way he said it suggested he thought we were both lying to ourselves.
Madeline Foster appeared at my elbow, resplendent in a silk navy dress that probably cost more than my old Honda. "Lila, Griffin—excellent timing. Our VIP buyers from the San Francisco market just arrived, and I'd like you to start with them. They're considering a significant increase in their orders."
My stomach fluttered with nerves, but I nodded confidently. "Of course. We're ready."
As we moved through the room toward the VIP section, Griffin fell into step beside me. "Just remember what you told me yesterday," he murmured. "You're not giving them a chemistry lesson. You're telling them a story."
The reminder settled something in my chest. He was right—I knew these wines inside and out. I knew their stories, their personalities, the passion that went into every bottle. All I had to do was share that knowledge.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I began as we approached the group of well-dressed buyers, "welcome to Sparkling Oak Winery. I'm Lila King, and this is Griffin Rhodes from Rhodes Select Imports. We're here to take you on a journey through some of California's most exceptional wines."
What followed was perhaps the most natural hour of my professional life. Griffin and I moved through the presentation like we'd been working together for years, our different styles complementing each other perfectly. Where I provided the technical expertise and passion for the wines themselves, he offered insights into market trends and distribution strategies. When I got too detailed, he'd jump in with a relatable analogy. When he focused too heavily on business, I'd bring the conversation back to the artistry behind each vintage.
"The 2019 Pinot Noir is like that perfect autumn day," I said, swirling the wine in my glass. "It starts crisp and bright, then warms you from the inside out with layers of cherry and spice that seem to go on forever."
"And from a distribution standpoint," Griffin added seamlessly, "we've seen a thirty percent increase in demand for this particular vintage over the past six months. The market is clearly responding to the quality Lila's describing."
The buyers were hanging on every word, asking thoughtful questions and scribbling notes. I could see genuine interest in their eyes, the kind of engagement that led to orders and long-term partnerships.
"Tell us about the Cabernet," one of the buyers requested. "We've heard exceptional things about your 2021 vintage."
This was my moment—the wine I'd been practicing with yesterday, the one that represented everything Sparkling Oak stood for. I glanced at Griffin, who gave me an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.
"The 2021 Cabernet," I began, letting my voice carry the passion I felt, "represents a perfect storm of ideal conditions. That year, we had just the right amount of rain in the spring, followed by a long, warm growing season that allowed the grapes to develop incredible complexity."
I moved closer to the group, drawing them into the story. "But what makes this wine truly special isn't just the weather—it's the winemaker's philosophy. Every decision, from when to harvest to how long to age in oak, was made with one goal in mind: creating a wine that tells the story of this place, this moment in time."
"The first sip hits you with bold, dark fruit flavors—blackberry, cassis, a hint of dark chocolate. But then," I paused, taking a sip myself and letting the wine linger on my palate, "it settles into something deeper. Something that speaks to tradition and craftsmanship and the kind of patience that only comes from truly understanding your craft."
"It's a wine that demands your attention," Griffin added, his voice carrying a rough edge that made several of the female buyers lean in closer. "But rewards you for giving it. Much like the best things in life."
His eyes met mine as he spoke, and for a moment, the professional façade slipped. The heat in his gaze reminded me of everything we'd shared, everything I was trying so hard to keep locked away.
"The finish," I continued, my voice slightly breathless, "is long and complex, with hints of vanilla and spice from the oak aging. It's the kind of wine that lingers, that makes you want to savor every moment."
"Well," said the lead buyer, a distinguished woman in her fifties, "if that description doesn't sell itself, I don't know what will. We'd like to discuss a significant order for the fall season."
The rest of the showcase flew by in a blur of successful conversations and promising leads. Griffin and I worked the room together, our professional chemistry drawing buyers like moths to a flame. By the time the last guest had left, Madeline was practically glowing with satisfaction.
"Exceptional work, both of you," she said, shaking our hands with genuine enthusiasm. "I've never seen buyers respond quite like that. The partnership between Sparkling Oak and Rhodes Select is going to be very profitable indeed."
As Madeline walked away to handle the final details with the catering staff, Griffin and I found ourselves alone on the now-empty terrace overlooking the vineyard. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that rivaled the wines we'd been serving.
"We did good," Griffin said quietly, loosening his tie.
"We did," I agreed, kicking off my heels and letting my toes sink into the cool stone of the terrace. "I can't believe how natural that felt."
"I can." He moved to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Youwere incredible up there, Lila. Watching you work... you're a force of nature when you let yourself shine."
The compliment sent warmth flooding through me, but it also brought back all the complications I'd been trying to avoid. "Griffin..."
"I know what you're going to say," he interrupted, turning to face me fully. "That this was just professional. That what happened yesterday doesn't change anything. But I watched you today, and I saw something you might have missed."
"What's that?"
"You were happy." His voice was soft, but the words hit me with unexpected force. "Really, truly happy. Not just successful or accomplished—happy. When's the last time you felt like that?"
