“You’ve helped a lot already.” He glanced her way then back at the road. “This is the Haystack Block.” He turned through an open gateway and the car bounced over a pothole and onto a rough track.

No fancy signs or gravelled driveways here, thought Keely. She looked at the rows of vines they drove through. Something about them was different from those at Levallier Dell.

“The branches here don’t stick out like your others,” she said. “Is that because they are younger?”

“Partly.” He gave her an appreciative look.

“It’s probably a silly question.”

“No, it’s very astute of you, considering you don’t know much about them.”

Keely looked out at the passing rows. He was right about her lack of knowledge.

“These vines are managed by spur pruning. It’s another thing Euan and I don’t agree on but it allows the grapes here to be mechanically pruned. Euan has always stuck to the traditional methods he learned back in Bordeaux. He uses cane pruning methods. It’s done by hand and the grapes are harvested by hand. Much more labour intensive.”

“Does it make a difference to the wine?”

“It depends who you ask. Euan would say yes. I agree to a certain extent but it depends on the end use and price you want. Ask different vignerons and you’d probably get several varied responses.”

They pulled up in front of an old stone shed. Before Flynn got out, he turned to Keely. “Thanks for your interest and your support. I do appreciate it.”

Keely smiled and lowered her gaze. There was something about those piercing blue eyes that made her heart thump.

“You and Kat have both been great.” He jumped from the car.

Keely followed him. The lightness had gone out of her step. How could she have forgotten about the gorgeous Kat?

* * *

Flynn unlocked the weathered wooden door and led the way into the tasting room. The walls were thick stone with only one small window and the air was cool. The bright sunshine from outside had little chance to warm the room. He flicked the switch to activate a row of modern fluorescent lights.

“Welcome to the Haystack tasting room.”

He crossed to the opposite wall, drew a bottle from the floor-to-ceiling wine rack then set it down on the old wooden cupboard in the middle of the room that served as a table. From the basic sink under the window, he retrieved the glasses he’d washed last time he’d been here with Kat. He smiled at the recollection. She’d been enthusiastic about the wine but she knew what she was talking about. He hoped Keely would at least like the taste well enough to allow her artwork to go on the label.