When Grayson and I entered the building, an old, obviously homeless man pushed past us, and the noise of talking, laughter, and a crying child somewhere in the background filled the air. The smell I recognized as sloppy joes hit my nose.

A woman with short, black curly hair came rushing toward us, the familiar face I knew well. "Is that you, Kira Dallaire?" She let out a small screech as she drew me into her arms, hugging me to her soft, large body. I laughed.

"Hi, Sharon."

"Girl, I was so upset I wasn't here the other day when you stopped in. Carlos told me you'd been by. It's been far too long." She looked at me with motherly concern, sizing me up. "Well you look good. But how are you? And what happened to your face?" she asked, pressing her fingers gently on my cheek and turning my head so she could see the large mark that still hadn't entirely faded.

I smiled, letting Sharon's warmth move through me. "I'm good. And that is courtesy of my father, but I'm okay."

Sharon scowled, pressing her lips together. "I'm glad I never voted for that man. Anything I can do?"

I shook my head. "It's taken care of." I looked at Grayson beside me. "Sharon Murphy, this is Grayson Hawthorn." I purposefully didn't offer an explanation of our relationship. Sharon eyed me suspiciously, but held her hand out to Grayson and smiled warmly at him. "We can't stay long, Sharon, but I wanted to write a check. I talked to Carlos about the situation with funding."

Sharon sighed. "I have to be honest, Kira, we're going to have to close the doors until the grant comes through."

"Well, now you don't." I smiled.

Sharon hugged me again. "You have such a huge heart, sweet girl. Bless you." With tears shimmering in her eyes, Sharon turned to Grayson. "Would you like a tour of our facility? Kira, there are a few kids you know outside. They'd love it if you went and said hi," she said, winking at me.

I glanced at Grayson who was looking around the facility I'd spent so much time in. It was so strange to see him there. "Do you mind?"

He looked back to me. "No, go ahead."

Fifteen minutes later I'd written out the check and was outside playing a game of tag with the kids. I looked up, laughing breathlessly and trying in vain to control the hair wildly flying all around my face, and caught Grayson's eye. A small boy named Matthew tagged me and shrieked with delight and I laughed again, high-fiving him for his stealth moves. Grayson was standing just outside the door, his gaze dark, a small smile on his face as he watched our game. I felt momentarily embarrassed that I'd been so involved in child's play and went jogging over to him, calling goodbye to the kids.

"Hey," I said, attempting to catch my breath.

"Hey, yourself. Looked like you were having fun."

I shrugged. "Oh, yes. They're great kids. Ready to go?"

He nodded. "I can see why you're so supportive of this place. It seems like they do great work."

I smiled brightly at him and his eyes moved to my cheek, a frown appearing, before he looked away. It still bothered him that I'd been hurt. The realization warmed me. "They do," I said, simply.

After saying goodbye to Sharon, we got back on the road, heading for Napa, headed back home. To my temporary home, I reminded myself. And yet, I found myself excited at the prospect of returning to my small cottage and seeing Charlotte, Walter, Virgil, and José, and sweet Sugie Sug. The feeling concerned me, though. I was acting like Hawthorn Vineyard was my home, but it wasn’t. In fact, I'd be leaving there in a matter of weeks. Although Grayson had offered me the option to stay longer, I now knew that would only make things harder. I'd relented and been physical with him, and while I didn't regret it, I knew it would only make our parting difficult for me—even if in some small measure. I'd never let him know it, of course, but I knew it was the truth. However, now that the damage was done, was there really any reason not to enjoy him while I could? Perhaps I'd leave Grayson with my heart slightly bruised. But wasn't a slightly bruised heart worth the electricity we created together? I shivered just remembering the way he'd touched me the night before, the way he'd seemed to know my body better than I did.

"Cold?" he asked, putting his hand in front of the vent to test the temperature of the air.

"No," I said, but didn't explain why I'd shivered.

The ride went quickly with us chatting mostly about casual topics. I knew for myself, I'd had enough heavy with what had happened at my father's house and then at the hotel.

"Oh," I said when we were about half an hour into the drive, "I forgot to mention your party has a theme."

Grayson raised one brow. "Oh? What?"

"Well, I thought about the first thing I said about your house when you took me on a tour."

He was silent, obviously not remembering. Finally he said, "That it was the lair of a dragon?"

I huffed out an impatient breath. "No, I said that about the maze."

"Oh, right. You'll have to remind me what you said about the house."

"I said it looked like a fairy-tale castle."

"Okay . . ."

I laughed and rolled my eyes, pretending to be even more exasperated with him. "The theme will be a fairy-tale masquerade. It's perfect. And the date is two weeks away. I circled it on the calendar in the kitchen and in your office."

"Two weeks? Will anyone even show up with such short notice?"