But how would they reconcile living so far from each other? It was a prickly, tangled mess of circumstance, especially as both were so close to their families, and after hearing Matt’s horrible story about dodging the Kirsten bullet.

But those were worries for another time. All Jules wanted to do right then was soak up their moment together in that beautiful vineyard.

Chapter 30

Lucy

Inside the cabin, there was a fire burning in the fireplace; although Lucy could see that it would need stoking soon. Several lamps lit the one-room cabin with a warm glow, and even though the furniture was sparse, it was homey and welcoming. There was a tiny kitchenette along one wall, with a mini fridge tucked under the counter, and a corner of the cabin was walled off—the bathroom, she presumed. There was a sofa that faced the fireplace, a low table in front and next to it, a small dining table and two chairs.

The table was set simply but thoughtfully, with plates, cutlery, two wine glasses, and plain white cloth napkins. While Lucy took in all these details, Will rushed about striking match after match to light the pillar candles dotted about the room.

When the last one was lit, he stood still and looked at her. “Do you like it?” She could see him gulp down his uncertainty and she crossed the room in a heartbeat.

“I love it,” she said, reassuring him with a grin.

He blew out a breath, and she sensed his relief. How could he have doubted that the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her would hit the mark? She looked about the cabin again, taking in as many details as she could, and noticing a bottle of whisky on the table in front of the sofa. “Is that one of yours?” she asked.

“If you mean, did one of my clients make it, then yes.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you like whisky?”

“Um, sometimes. I mean, there are so many different sorts, aren’t there?”

“Well, this one’s a favourite of mine. Have a seat and I’ll pour you some.” Lucy peeled off her outer layers and Will did the same before retrieving two tumblers from the cupboard and joining Lucy on the sofa. He cracked the seal of the bottle and poured two generous glugs of whisky, then handed a glass to Lucy.

“So, what shall we drink to?” she said, relegating the task of the toast to Will.

He seemed to think on it longer than she would have expected, then lifted his glass and looked her in the eye. “To snowstorms and traffic jams.” He clinked his glass against hers and winked before taking a sip.

Lucy was momentarily rattled. It was almost as though Will knew all about her “snowed-in” fantasy. There was no way he could have, but this was all a bit uncanny …

She lifted her glass to her lips, breathing in the spicy sweetness of the aroma of the whisky, then took a sip. It tingled on her lips slightly. “Oh my, that’s dangerous, that is.”