“All right. Excuse us, I guess.” He leads me over to the table where Darla has set up dinner.

I fill a plate with a burger and all the fixings. Brendan Murphy pops into my head. He made burgers the night we shared the Château Latour.

“Come on,” I urge Dale. “You have to eat something. You’re probably still weak from being caught in the fire.”

He stiffens.

Damn. I had to go and mention the fire.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, “but you do need to eat. And drink. Water, not wine.”

He sighs. “You’re right.” He takes a plate and piles two burgers on a bun.

“A double, huh?” I smile.

“You told me I had to eat.” He grabs a bottle of water and holds it up. “And water.”

I nod and take another bottle. “I’ll join you.”

“Why? You can have alcohol.”

“Maybe I don’t want any.”

“Suit yourself.” He leads me to an unoccupied table.

“You don’t want to join anyone?” I ask.

“If I did, I would have joined them.”

I nod and sit down next to him. This is classic Dale. The loner. At least I get to be with him.

“So when does the big family meeting start?” I ask.

“Usually after everyone has eaten. Dad and my uncles will lead it.”

“Not Aunt Marjorie?”

“She doesn’t work for the company. Uncle Bryce does.”

“Oh. Right. Got it.” I take a bite of my burger. Juice runs down my chin, and I whisk it away with my napkin. “Wow. Juicy.”

“Best burgers ever,” he says, taking a bite.

“They’re even better than Brendan’s,” I say, and then I want to flog myself.

Why the hell did I offer that? It just popped out.

Dale goes rigid next to me. Then, after he swallows, “Murphy served you burgers with Château Latour?”

Right. Dale’s a gourmet cook. Brendan decidedly is not. “He did. They actually went really well with it.”

“Steel Chateaubriand for two would have gone better.”

“True.”

Brendan Murphy probably didn’t have a Steel tenderloin at his disposal. Probably couldn’t afford it anyway. But I keep this tidbit to myself.

“Was the wine any good?” Dale asks.

“Of course it was. It’s a Latour.”

He nods, stuffing another bite of burger into his mouth.

He swallows. “My favorite is Château Lascombes.”

I raise my eyebrows. “A second cru? Really?”

“That surprises you,” he says.

“A little. I mean, premier cru is premier cru.”

“First growth doesn’t necessarily mean better. Besides, there’s a certain subjectivity to wine tasting, as you know.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“You thought a Steel would want a premier cru, right?”

“Well…yeah.”

“I want what tastes the best to me, and that’s Château Lascombes.”

I smile at him. “Fair enough. I’ve actually never tried Château Lascombes. We tried all the premiers crus in one of my tasting labs, but only some of the seconds.”

“I have several bottles in the cellar,” he says. “You want to taste it now?”

“Right now? Before the meeting?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Because… Because I want to enjoy it with you. Take the time it deserves. Not when we’re here with everyone.”

He pauses, and for a hot minute, I wonder if he’s going to reply at all.

Finally, “I understand. And I agree.”

I smile again and reach forward to touch his cheek. Its warmth flows through my arm and makes it tingle. Just a simple touch, and I’m ready to melt.

We finish our burgers without talking. No one joins us at our table. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a neon sign were flashing above us, saying Leave Us Alone.

Then I realize.

That neon sign is there.

It’s Dale. He’s still an island. Still a loner. Still needs his space.

And he’s let me in.

Just a little, but it’s a start.

At this gathering of his huge family, only I am in his bubble.

I like that. I like it a lot.

Still, a person needs people. Maybe someday Dale will come to terms with that.

In the meantime? I’m glad he’s decided he needs me. At least for now.

Talon and Ryan, along with two others who I recognize as Jonah Steel and Bryce Simpson, head to the deck, where they stand above the rest of us. Ryan clinks a spoon on his wineglass.

I almost expect them to be microphoned, but I already know Ryan has a big and booming voice.

Once everyone is attentive, Ryan begins. “Tal and I will take the lead since it’s the vineyards and the orchard that have taken the brunt of the damage from the fire. I think it’s only right, of course, to think about the Pikes and what they’ve lost. We were damned lucky to only lose a fraction of what they did, and we’re thankful. We’ve offered to help them in any way we can.”

Murmurs of approval flow around us, but Dale is noticeably quiet.

“Unfortunately, our Syrah vines took the worst of it. Tal’s Fuji orchard took a hit as well. But there is a lot of good news.”

Dale’s lips form a straight line. Apparently he isn’t in the mood to hear any good news.

“This was the year we were going to produce our first old-vine Syrah. We can still do that with what we’ve already harvested. Of course it will be a smaller production. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, economically. Supply and demand and all. Tal?”

“Right,” Talon agrees. “And our Fuji production this year was bigger than ever, so the loss will be minimal economically. It’s crucial to remember, in times like these, that people are more important than things. Though my trees and Ryan’s vines are living things, people are the most important, and we’re happy that all of us are healthy and accounted for. Dale was in the mountains when the fire came, and thanks to our great firefighters, he came home safely.”

Cheers and hoots and hollers follow.

Dale looks around, and his lips curve up slightly, but it’s forced. His family is thrilled that he’s safe, and he knows that. He wants to appease them, smile, show them he’s happy that they’re happy.