Henry had looked right at me. Listened to me. Made me feel heard and understood. Plus, he was smart and passionate about what he did, and he was really hot. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before. He was like a cross between a rugged outdoorsman and a sexy professor, right at home in jeans and boots with dirt on his hands, but intelligent and articulate and sensitive too. I’d almost died when he told me to let the wine warm up on my tongue—it was probably an innocent, wine-industry kind of thing to say, but it made me hot all over.

I wondered what he thought of me. Did he find me attractive?

God, it was such a juvenile thought—Do you like me? Check yes or no—but I had to admit, part of me hoped he did, even if nothing could come of it. It had been a long time since I’d felt beautiful in a man’s eyes.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” April challenged. “Henry is very handsome.”

“He is,” I agreed carefully.

“He’s also a great guy. And you’ve both been through a lot.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “It’s way too soon to even think about . . . moving on. My divorce is barely final.”

“Doesn’t seem to be holding Brett back,” April observed wryly. “And I’m not saying you need to marry Henry. Just get to know each other better, especially since you’re moving here. Be his friend. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That’s all I meant.”

We walked up the steps of the front porch, and I thought of what Henry had said to me last night.

I can give in to a woman.

I shivered inside his coat. He hadn’t said it salaciously or even flirtatiously, but something about the words themselves or maybe the quiet, serious way he’d delivered them had made my rusty, out-of-use core muscles clench up tight.

And April wasn’t entirely imagining things, of course—there had been a moment there in the winery when I’d had this crazy feeling Henry might try to kiss me. What was even crazier was that I’d kind of hoped he would, even though I didn’t think I was ready for it, and something told me he wasn’t either.

But I’d wanted it.

Hell yes, I’d wanted it.

* * *