Back then she’d been just as driven, but for different reasons. She’d argued passionately, mocked him, challenged him, and delighted him. For weeks he’d told himself that she was only seventeen to his twenty. Whatever he was thinking about her was not only inappropriate, it was illegal. But he’d been unable to resist. The first time he’d kissed her had been magic.

It had been in this room with the scent of the wine all around them, on a night not unlike this one. She’d worn shorts and a T-shirt, and her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She’d been talking about grapes or wine because that’s what she always talked about, and he’d cupped her face and kissed her. He could still hear the catch in her breath as his mouth had claimed hers.

“The process works even if you don’t check on it every fifteen minutes,” he said quietly.

Brenna dropped her clipboard and jumped. As she turned to face him, she pressed a hand against her chest.

“Stop creeping up on me,” she said. “I’m getting old. I could have a heart attack or something.”

He pushed off the wall and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I think that’s a few years off, yet.”

“Maybe.” She picked up her clipboard. “Where’s Max?”

“He flaked out a couple of hours ago.”

She glanced at her watch. “It can’t be this late. I got here at seven and was only going to stay a couple of hours.”

“You know how you get when you’re making wine.”

She nodded. “How are things?”

“Good. What about you? Lorenzo still making you crazy?”

“Sure. He’s really good at it. His stubborn streak only makes things worse.”

Nic took a step toward her. “Why don’t you quit?”

“No. I already did that once. This time I’m in it until the bitter end.”

“That’s new.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. The words had come out before he could stop them, and now they hung in the air like a flashing neon sign. Would Brenna ignore them or take the bait?

“Funny you should say that,” she told him, speaking softly. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately.” She gave a slight smile. “The old us, not the new us.”

Was there a “new” us? he wondered. “Forget about it,” he told her as he realized he didn’t want to talk about them or the past. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not acknowledging what happened won’t make it go away.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She stared at him. “It matters to me. A lot. I’m going to talk about it. If you leave, I guess I’ll just be talking to myself.”

He thought about heading out. He could walk away, and they would never have this conversation. But he didn’t. There were probably a thousand reasons why, but right then he couldn’t think of one.

“So talk,” he said.

She walked to the chairs set up by the small table. He considered staying where he was, in the shadow of the vats, in darkness. He didn’t want to have this conversation; he didn’t want to feel anything. Not again. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Had it healed this one?

Silence filled the big room. Finally he gave in to the inevitable and walked over to where she was seated. He pulled out the other chair and settled across from her. She looked at him, then at the floor.

“I was so in love with you,” she began.

Her first blow hit below the belt. He stiffened. “You could have fooled me.”

She nodded. “I didn’t expect you to believe me.” She sighed. “Actually, I did think you would. Or maybe I just hoped. But whatever you want to believe, I loved you more than I had thought possible. You were my world.”

Something cold circled inside his belly. “I was third on a short list of two. First was your family, second was the wine. You weren’t willing to give up either, but you walked away from me fast enough.”

She raised her head. “That’s not fair.”

“That’s what I was thinking at the time.”

“You mattered so much, but my family was…they complicated things. I didn’t want to disappoint them, and I was terrified of defying them. My grandfather saw the world in such black-and-white terms.”

What she meant was she hadn’t been willing to pay the price. “You think my grandfather was any different?”

“No.” The word was a whisper. “I know he was angry.”

Angry? Did that begin to describe what had happened when Nic had finally confessed his feelings about Brenna to Emilio? Anger meant yelling and throwing things. Emilio had turned his back on Nic, exiling him from the only home he’d ever known.

Brenna shivered. “I was young, I was scared, and in the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t turn my back on my family. I couldn’t walk away.”

He’d been doing his best to avoid the past. Simply talking about it in vague terms allowed him to stay emotionally distant. Nic grabbed hold of his self-control with both hands and vowed to keep the barriers intact. But the first crack had already formed. It grew, ripping through years of trying to forget and pretending it didn’t matter.

“You were seeing him,” Nic growled. “The entire time we were planning to go away together, you were making it with that asshole you married. Did you fuck us both on the same day or did you need a little space to clear your head?”

Brenna sprang to her feet. Her face paled. “You know it wasn’t like that. You know I didn’t care about him the way I cared about you. I never slept with him.”

“Not even after the wedding?”

She turned away. “Talking about this was a mistake.”

“And it’s all yours.”

He waited to see if she would walk away—if she had the guts to finish what she’d started. As Brenna had never been one to enjoy confrontation about anything but making wine, he would bet on a quick escape.

She surprised him by returning to the chair and sitting down. “I met Jeff one weekend when I was down in Los Angeles with Francesca. She and Todd were engaged. There was a big party at someone’s house. Jeff was the younger brother of one of Todd’s friends. I didn’t care about him, I didn’t even think about him again. All I wanted was to get home to you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. The act was meant to look casual, but it was also instinctive protection. All these years later and he still didn’t want to know what had happened.

“My parents didn’t know that you and I were seeing each other, so as far as they were concerned I didn’t have a boyfriend and I showed no interest in dating. They were worried and pressuring me. Francesca mentioned Jeff, which made them happy. They got off me, which meant I was more free to come see you. So when Jeff called to ask me out, I said yes because it made things easier.”

Her mouth twisted. “I know what you’re thinking. That if I’d told them the truth, Jeff wouldn’t have been a part of my life. I know that now. At the time I just wanted to avoid the fight.”

That wasn’t what he’d been thinking. Parts of the story were new, parts he’d figured out. Back then, he’d been aware she had a “cover” boyfriend. He’d pretended he didn’t care, even though he had. He’d pretended not to be hurt by her betrayal, even when it had cut him down to his soul.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why did this old news claw at his gut? He told himself to get up and leave, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hear, and he couldn’t stop listening.

“I went out with him a few times.” She twisted her fingers together. “I just wanted to be with you. When Jeff went off to Europe with his family for some vacation they’d been planning for years, I was grateful to have him gone. I needed time to figure out what to do. I knew I was making a mess of things, but I still thought I could fix it all. Then you asked me to run away with you.”

He smiled without humor. “I asked you to marry me. There’s a difference.”

She looked scared and miserable. Funny how he would have thought he would find pleasure in her obvious discomfort, but he didn’t.

“I wanted to say yes,” she told him. “Deep in my heart, I wanted it so much. I still remember your exact words. You said we’d be like Romeo and Juliet, but with a happy ending.”

The last of the barrier crumbled to rubble as the past rushed in to surround him. He, too, recalled his exact words. He’d bought a ring, taken her to the beach, and at sunset had asked her to marry him. He’d been idealistic and in love. Whatever challenges the world wanted to offer, they would take on. If their families rejected them, they would start over. Together. Back then his future had been filled with the promise of loving Brenna.

“You managed to resist the calling of your heart,” he said bitterly. “Smart girl. I made the mistake of following mine.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t speak.

Now it was Nic’s turn to stand. Energy poured through him, and he had nowhere to put it. He paced to the vats and back, then braced his hands on the back of his chair.

“You should have told me you were just playing,” he said, his voice low and angry. “That none of it was ever real to you.”

“It was,” she insisted. Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she brushed them away. “I was afraid. Is that so wrong? I was eighteen years old, and I was scared of what my parents and grandparents would do.”

His gaze narrowed. “You mean they might make you choose?”

She flinched visibly.

Before she could say anything, he continued. “I told my grandfather. I told him I loved you and was going to marry you. He said he wouldn’t let that happen. That if I chose you, I would have to give up everything. My name, my connection with the family, the land, all of it. I chose you, Brenna. I packed my bags and I left. I was ready to go to the ends of the earth with you, and you turned me down. Just like that. I proposed and you dumped me.”

She nodded. More tears ran down her face. She wiped at them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry?” He shouted the word. “You’re sorry? My grandfather did as he promised. He disowned me. I walked away with nothing, and you married Jeff.”

Brenna wanted to run. The open doors beckoned her out into the night. If she could go far enough, fast enough, maybe she would forget. Maybe none of this would matter anymore. But she had to stay. She’d started this and it was her responsibility to see it through to the end. She owed Nic and maybe she owed herself as well.

“I was heartbroken when I heard,” she told him. “I never thought Emilio would really send you away. I wanted to come after you.”

He glared at her without speaking. She knew he was wondering why she hadn’t. Why she’d let him disappear from her life.

Sometimes she asked herself the same questions. Those days and weeks were a blur in her memory. Pain was the only constant.

Nic shook his head. “You weren’t willing to risk it. Not your family, not the winery. That’s why you didn’t come after me.”

He spoke as if all the anger had drained out of him, leaving behind an empty man who had no energy for anything but resignation. When he released the back of the chair and settled on the seat, he looked weary.

“So Jeff was there, waiting,” he said evenly.

“I guess.” She rested her elbows on her thighs and dropped her head to her hands. “It’s all jumbled together. He came back from his trip and spent a lot of time at the house. Later I figured out that he thought we were rich. He must have been really disappointed to find out that my grandfather owned everything and kept very tight purse strings.”