Page 40 of The Love Bus

He lifted a glass, the pale gold liquid catching the afternoon light. “We’re kicking things off with something light and refreshing—our famous peach wine. Made from one hundred percent Palisade-grown peaches. It’s crisp, balanced, and basically made for evenings like this.”

A few appreciative murmurs and soft oooohs rolled through the group as glasses were poured.

“Now, normally a tasting would start with one of the drier whites,” he went on, “but since the peach is what we’re best known for, I like to pour it first, before your palate gets too distracted by the bolder stuff.”

He set the glass down and gestured to the bottles behind him. “After that, we’ll move to a dry Riesling, then our Gewürztraminer—light, floral, a little spicy—and finish with our cherry dessert wine, which happens to pair perfectly with dark chocolate.”

He grinned. “And yes, there will be chocolate.”

That got a full round of pleased sighs and a few delighted chuckles.

Glasses clinked behind us as the first round was poured. Babs took two and handed one to me like it was communion, but just as I took my first sip, my phone buzzed.

Not knowing if it was Ashley, my mom, or… Leo, I had no choice but to take a look.

New text. Unknown number.

The area code was familiar—same as Ashley’s—but it wasn’t her.

Unknown: Where are you?

I tapped back:

Me: Who is this?

Something fluttered behind my ribcage.

I stood there beside Babs, barely noticing the surprisingly strong peachiness of the wine on my tongue.

Another buzz.

Unknown: Noah. I knocked on your door, but you weren’t answering. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

I didn’t even have to ask how he got my number. I just looked sideways at Babs.

She smiled over her glass. “What?”

I squinted at her, lips twitching.

“Nothing,” I said. So why did my pulse do that thing?

Me: I’m at the winery. Last-minute change of plans.

I watched the three dots bounce.

Noah: Well damn.

I smirked, then hesitated…

I didn’t want to be the girl who asked, but I also didn’t want to spend the rest of this trip wondering.

Me: Your mom said you might be talking with your wife…? That there might still be hope for you two?

Was that direct enough, without being too direct?

I read it again. It was pretty direct.

Noah: Ex. But no.

Noah: Just…no.

Okay then. Huh.

Noah: I stayed at the hotel thinking maybe we could explore town together. Was gonna see if you wanted to check out some of the pubs with me.

What, exactly, did that mean?

Friends, Luna. Just friends.

Me: Next time, let me know.

Noah: Noted.

Another ping.

A picture came through.

A gray cat—looking rather smug—perched dramatically on the arm of a couch.

Noah: She misses me. Probably. Hard to tell with Pippa.

I burst out laughing, earning a few curious glances from the others.

Another photo. Two goldfish. One noticeably…larger.

Me: You weren’t lying about Jumbo.

I took a sip of my wine and had a quick glance around the room to see how the rest of the group was doing—and immediately regretted it.

Ed and Eddie were locked together in a very passionate embrace near the back wall.

I didn’t look long enough to gather any more information than that.

Josie, who still had her phone out and recording, made it very obvious when she spotted them too, eyes widening and freezing in place, with her camera lingering on them for several long seconds.

Afterward, I watched her thumb very deliberately press post .

I snorted and fired off another text to Noah.

Me: Josie is posting a video of Ed and Eddie. Let’s just say the wine’s hitting hard.

A minute later:

Noah: Pulled it up. That video should be illegal.

Noah: Those two are nuts.

I waited a few minutes to text back.

Me: What kind of wine do you like?

Bouncing dots.

Nothing.

More bouncing dots.

Noah: Whatever you’re drinking.

I read back over our entire conversation, trying to understand what was hidden between the lines, if there was anything hidden there at all.

Was this flirting? I was a little rusty, and so maybe not the best judge. And even if it was, was it just friendly flirting or flirty flirting?

God, I sounded like an obsessed teenager.

At the second winery, I wandered through the tasting room, holding my glass up to the light. I’d already tried a fragrant lavender white that tasted like summer in a glass, a bold Chardonnay that made my tongue tingle, and now I was sipping an almost-fizzy strawberry rosé.

“Dangerously drinkable,” Denise whispered as we clinked glasses.

A few stops and several sips later, we arrived at the final winery—an expansive, family-owned vineyard with a wraparound patio and a grassy courtyard strung with glowing fairy lights. The sun had just started to set, casting everything in a warm amber glow.

Our group was ushered toward an outdoor dining area, the long tables already set for dinner with mismatched vintage plates, wine glasses, of course, and clusters of wildflowers tucked into mason jars.

We settled into the provided chairs and tore into the bread baskets that had been set out, while two employees fluttered around, topping off everyone’s wine. From there, the conversation got silly pretty quickly, with almost everyone at least a little tipsy by then.

I learned quite a bit about my fellow tour-goers that evening—like the fact that Marla laughed like an abnormally loud hyena once she finally relaxed, more about moles and bunions than I ever expected to hear in one sitting, and several tidbits about Josie’s once-upon-a-time very active sex life that I would have happily stayed in the dark about.

Still, I was glad I’d come tonight. It helped me feel like part of the group again. Less alone.

I did wish Noah had come too, though. And as everyone was busy loading their plates with chicken and roasted potatoes, I found myself checking my phone again.

One message.

A photo: a dark beer in a pint glass, the warm glow of a light above reflecting off a polished bar.

Noah: You’d love this place. It’s called The Blue Moon. Copper ceilings. Old-school bar top. I think the bartender might be a time traveler.

I smiled at the screen.

Me: Don’t stay out too late. Tay’s got us leaving at seven hundred hours again.

He liked the message.

And even though he wasn’t next to me, I still felt the flicker of something sweet and fun and just a little electric.

The air was warm. The wine was soft.

And honestly, I thought that I just might be excited about the rest of this trip.