Page 35 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner (Angel’s Peak #6)

The presentation unfolds better than I could have hoped.

I introduce Silverleaf's philosophy and approach, emphasizing the innovative techniques Dominic has developed specifically for high-altitude viticulture.

When I describe his experimental hybridization program, designed to create varietals that thrive in challenging mountain conditions while producing wines of exceptional complexity, the judges lean forward with genuine interest.

Then Dominic speaks, his deep voice steady as he explains the science behind his methods.

His natural reserve reads as thoughtful expertise in this context, his passion for the work shining through technical explanations that might sound dry from anyone else.

When he mentions "my colleague Elena Santiago's insights regarding acid balance in high-elevation grapes," the unexpected credit in a public forum warms me more than any private compliment could have.

The judges' questions reveal increasing enthusiasm for Silverleaf’s innovations, especially regarding climate change issues impacting traditional growing regions. Catherine Halsey stands at the back of the room, observing our professional interaction with calculated interest.

After the presentation, Dominic and I browse the festival together, his hand occasionally brushing mine as we move between tastings and panels.

His Angel's Peak support team creates strategic diversions whenever former Napa associates attempt to corner him with uncomfortable questions about the fire or his father's legacy.

"You're handling this beautifully," I tell him during a rare quiet moment. "How does it feel?"

He considers the question with characteristic thoroughness. "Like wearing clothes that used to fit perfectly, then didn't for a long time, and now fit differently but not necessarily worse."

The precise analogy is so perfectly Dominic that I laugh, drawing curious glances from nearby attendees. "That's the most accurate description of returning to an old life I've ever heard."

His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners in the way that never fails to make my heart skip. "It helps having the right companion for the journey. "

Before I can respond to this loaded statement, Catherine appears with a gleam of opportunity in her eyes.

"Elena, Mr. Mercer. Impressive presentation." She extends her hand to Dominic. "Catherine Halsey, Senior Partner at Heritage Restaurant Group. I've been watching your interaction with considerable interest."

Dominic shakes her hand, wariness evident beneath his professional courtesy. "Ms. Halsey. Elena speaks highly of your business acumen."

"I'd like to discuss a proposal with you both," Catherine continues without preamble. "Heritage is considering a destination dining concept focusing on climate-adaptive wines and regional cuisine. Your experimental program could be the centerpiece of our inaugural location."

"I wasn't aware Heritage was expanding into destination concepts," I say, professional interest piqued despite my surprise.

"We weren't, until I observed what you two have created." Catherine's gaze is shrewd. "The technical innovation is impressive, but your collaborative approach caught my attention. Elena's market understanding and Mr. Mercer’s viticultural vision create something unique in the industry."

Dominic and I exchange glances, the silent communication we've developed allowing an entire conversation to pass between us in seconds.

"We'd be interested in hearing more," Dominic says carefully, "though Silverleaf remains my primary focus."

"As it should." Catherine nods approvingly.

"This would be a separate venture, with both of you as equal partners under the Heritage umbrella.

Flexible scheduling, bi-coastal operations as needed.

" Her meaningful look at me makes clear she understands precisely what constraints we're navigating.

"Think about it. We can discuss details tomorrow. "

As she walks away, Dominic turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "Did your boss just offer us a solution to our geographical dilemma?"

"I believe she did." I'm still processing the implications of her proposal. "After warning me about blurring professional and personal boundaries, no less."

"Catherine Halsey strikes me as a pragmatist above all else," Dominic observes. "If she sees business value in our partnership, she'll find a way to make it work despite any personal entanglements."

"Speaking of personal entanglements," I begin, heart suddenly racing, "we haven't had a chance to talk since you arrived. About us, I mean. About what happens after today."

His expression softens. "Not here," he says, glancing at the crowded room. "There's a private terrace on the mezzanine level. Meet me there in ten minutes?"

The ten minutes stretch interminably as I make polite conversation with festival attendees, my mind entirely occupied with what awaits on the terrace. When I finally escape and climb the ornate staircase to the mezzanine, I find Dominic waiting, Merlot sitting contentedly at his feet.

The terrace offers a stunning view of downtown Denver, with mountains rising majestically in the distance.

Dominic stands at the railing, profile illuminated by the setting sun.

For a moment, I absorb the sight of him—this complex, passionate man who has somehow become essential to me in less than a month of knowing him.

He turns as I approach, his expression open in a way that is rarely seen around others. "There you are."

"Here I am," I agree, joining him at the railing. "You look like you belong here, you know. Back in the industry spotlight."

"I don't feel like I belong," he admits. "But I'm finding it's not as unbearable as I feared." His hand covers mine on the railing. "Having the right motivation helps. "

The simple touch sends warmth cascading through me. "And what is the right motivation?"

"You know the answer to that." His eyes hold mine, unwavering.

"I'd like to hear you say it anyway." My heart hammers against my ribs.

"You." The single word carries the weight of certainty. "The possibility of building something with you that neither of us could create alone."

"Like a perfect blend," I suggest, emotion tightening my throat.

"Exactly like that." He turns toward me, taking both my hands in his. "These past three weeks have confirmed what I already knew on the mountain. I love you. Your brilliance, your determination, your honesty—even your stubborn insistence on proper tasting notes."

A laugh escapes me, joy bubbling up irrepressibly. "I love you, too. Your passion, integrity, connection to your land—even your hermit tendencies and ridiculous aversion to wine scores."

His smile transforms his face, years of isolation and grief falling away to reveal the man he might have been without tragedy, and might still become with time and love.

"I've spent three weeks developing this." He reaches into his jacket, producing a leather portfolio. "A detailed plan for building a life together without sacrificing our professional identities."

Of course, he has a detailed plan. I wouldn't expect anything less from this methodical man who approaches all meaningful endeavors with such careful consideration.

"Bi-coastal living arrangements, consulting schedules, vineyard expansion timelines," he explains as I flip through the meticulously prepared documents. "Catherine's proposal aligns perfectly with several of these scenarios."

"You've thought of everything," I say, genuinely impressed by the thoroughness of his planning. "But you know what's missing from these scenarios?"

Concern flickers in his eyes. "What?"

"This." I close the portfolio, set it aside, and step into his space, sliding my hands up his chest to link behind his neck. "The part where I don't care about perfectly optimized arrangements as long as they include you."

Relief and desire flash across his features. "That's uncharacteristically unanalytical of you, Ms. Santiago."

"I'm discovering that some decisions transcend analysis," I murmur as his hands settle at my waist, drawing me closer. "Some connections defy quantification."

"Like wine that creates an emotional experience beyond its technical components?" His smile is knowing, a callback to our first philosophical disagreement about wine appreciation.

"Exactly like that." I rise on tiptoes, bringing my lips to his. "I think you might have been right about that part."

"I'm recording this historic admission for posterity," he murmurs against my mouth.

Then he's kissing me, and everything else falls away—the festival, our careers, the careful plans we've constructed. This kiss contains all the longing of our three-week separation, all the promise of our shared future, all the certainty that whatever challenges await, we'll face them together.

When we finally separate, breathless and flushed, I become aware of applause from the doorway. Ruth, Eleanor, Hunter, and several festival attendees stand watching us with varying degrees of amusement and approval.

"It's about time," Ruth calls out, grinning broadly. "We were taking bets on how long you two would dance around each other before someone made a move."

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, but Dominic merely laughs, keeping his arm firmly around my waist as we turn to face our audience. "Your timing is impeccable as always, Ruth."

"Our timing is quite deliberate," Eleanor corrects, stepping forward. "The Rising Star awards are being announced in five minutes, and the festival coordinator is looking everywhere for both of you. Quite frantically…I might add."

We rejoin the main festival, hands linked, ignoring the curious glances and whispered speculation our obvious connection generates.

The awards ceremony proceeds with typical industry formality until the announcement of the Rising Star Award, celebrating the most innovative new vineyard in the region.

"This year's recipient has pioneered techniques specifically adapted to high-altitude viticulture," the presenter announces. "Creating wines that express both terroir and vision with remarkable clarity. The Rising Star Award goes to... Silverleaf Vineyards!"

The applause is genuine and enthusiastic as Dominic makes his way to the stage, pulling me along with him despite my surprise. When he reaches the microphone, he surveys the room with the quiet confidence that has always been there beneath his isolation.

"Thank you for this recognition," he begins.

"Silverleaf represents not just my vision, but the contributions of many, especially Elena Santiago, whose expertise and perspective profoundly influenced our approach.

" His eyes find mine, a public declaration of a partnership that transcends business.

"Some of the best wines come from vines that struggle, from grapes that must fight to survive in challenging conditions.

I'm learning the same might be true of people. "

As we accept the award together, I understand that what we've found is indeed a perfect blend of professional respect and personal passion, of his intuitive approach and my analytical one, of roots deeply planted and branches reaching skyward.

Like the experimental vines Dominic has so carefully cultivated on his mountain, what grows between us may be unexpected, challenging to sustain across distance and different worlds, requiring careful tending and occasional compromise.

But as any winemaker knows, the most extraordinary vintages often emerge from unlikely pairings, creating something that couldn't exist any other way—a perfect blend of elements that, separately, would never achieve such beautiful complexity.

And as his hand closes over mine, I know: we are the vintage that wasn’t supposed to work… but somehow became unforgettable. Because love—like wine—doesn’t follow the rules. The best ones never do.