"No, we can't." I laugh, knowing he's right. "Also, some of Will's teammates weigh a good three hundred pounds. Each."

"I'm gonna add more support," he says as his face pales, making me laugh again.

"It'll be great. Thanks, Scott. I'll see you in the morning."

Scott waves and moves over to speak with his crew, and I turn toward the house, smiling when I see Dominic.

"How was the first day?" he asks as he approaches, coming from the way I'm headed.

"Busy, but productive." I pinch my neck in my palm and stretch my head from side to side. I'm exhausted, and I'm secretly relieved that he talked me into staying here. Driving all the way home this tired probably isn't the safest thing to do.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes." I grin and take a deep breath. I love the way it smells here. "How was your day?"

"Busy as well." He reaches over and brushes his finger down my neck, making me shiver.

Jesus, all he has to do is touch me with one finger and I want to jump him.

"What did you do?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asks, rather than answering my question.

"Not on work days," I reply with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because it's more professional and easier to wear it up."

He offers me a mischievous half smile and leans in like he's going to tell me a secret. "I can't wait to mess it up."

My jaw drops, and before I can respond, he smirks and takes my hand in his, gesturing for me to walk with him.

"I'd like for you to have dinner with me on the patio tonight."

"I don't expect you to eat with me every night, Dom."

"I think I just asked you to join me."

No thanks, Dom. I'll just head up to my room now. I glance up to find his jaw ticking and his lips pressed in a line, as if he's bracing himself for another rejection. But if I'm being honest, I am dying to eat on that patio. The sun is going to set soon, and the view is going to be awesome.

I'm here for a whole week. I might as well take advantage of it.

"I'd like that."

His jaw and lips loosen, and he glances down at me with a smile. "Excellent."

"So, what did you do today?" I ask again, as he holds a chair out for me at the table on the patio.

"I arranged for Cuppa di Vita wines to be available in a new liquor store chain coming to Washington, Oregon, and Idaho, listened to my cousin, Gianna, complain for about an hour about her brother, Marco, about what, I'm not entirely sure, because I tuned her out. Then Jules called and wanted to know if I was being nice to you," he cocks a brow at me as he sits across from me and begins to uncork a bottle of wine. His hands look amazing, and he works with a quick efficiency, having the bottle open in seconds.

"What did you tell her?" I ask with a laugh.

"That I'd hardly seen you since you arrived this morning."

"I got the same phone call." He passes me a glass of the wine, and I smell it with appreciation. "Mm, smells good."

"From Jules or my cousin Gianna?" Dom winks at me as I chuckle.

"Jules. But she wanted to know if I was being nice to you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That you're a big boy and can take care of yourself."

"I bet she didn't like that answer."

"I think she might have threatened to come out here tomorrow to check on us, but I pretended that I was being called by a crew member and hung up on her." I wink at him and sip my wine.

"My family is...tenacious." Dominic begins uncovering silver-domed plates, and my stomach growls loudly. "Hungry?"

"Oh, God, yes. I just realized I haven't had anything since this morning."

"Well, there's plenty." He scoops large helpings of pasta and red sauce onto plates and passes me one. "This is my mama's recipe."

"You cooked this?"

"It's not hard." He shrugs and offers me bread, watching me with humor-filled blue eyes. His hair is a bit messy today, as if he ran his fingers through it over and over again. I take a bite of the pasta and lean back in my chair, eyes closed, and savor the flavors and seasonings hitting my tongue.

"Damn, that's good."

I hear Dom inhale sharply and open my eyes to find him watching me with his heated gaze.

"I think I love watching you eat," he murmurs.

"I am good at it," I reply with a laugh, and sip my wine. "This wine is excellent with the sauce."

"I know." His smile is smug.

"So, your family was a pain in the ass today," I say, encouraging him to keep talking. I love the sound of his voice.

He stops twirling pasta on his fork and stares at me with a frown. "No. My family is never a pain in the ass. They can be challenging, frustrating even, but never a pain in my ass." He sets his fork down and takes a sip of his wine. "My family is the best part of my life."

"Better than the vineyard?"

"Better than anything."

"That must be nice," I murmur, and take a bite of pasta to give my hands something to do. I suddenly feel self-conscious and jealous, and that's just ridiculous. Not everyone has a tight family.

"Tell me about your family."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want that story."

"I do trust you, and I do want that story."

I take a deep breath and another sip of wine. This man is good with words.

"We're not close."

"Why?"

I shrug and keep my gaze on my dinner. "There wasn't a specific reason, we just never were terribly close. I don't speak to them now. Why did you wait so long to find Steven?" I ask, and immediately want to call the words back. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"I don't mind." He uses his bread to soak up any remaining sauce on his plate, pops it in his mouth, and sits back in his chair. He pushes his fingers through his hair, while he gives my question some thought.

Steven Montgomery is the patriarch of the Montgomery family, and it came to light only about a year ago that Dominic was the son that Steven never knew about.

"When my mother was alive, it felt like a betrayal to her to want to find him," he confesses, and swirls the wine in his glass absentmindedly. "She gave me a great life, Alecia. She was so young."

Finished with my own meal, I push my plate away, lift my glass, and stand. "Let's go sit by the fireplace for story time."

"Good idea." He grins and follows me to the fireplace, flipping a switch that makes the flames come to life, before sitting next to me on a cozy loveseat. He shifts toward me, with one knee up on the cushion, so he can look me in the eye.

"She was young," I prompt him.

"Very. She was twenty-two when I was born. She was here in the States on a scholarship for college, and intended to always stay here. She didn't want to move back to Italy. But, she didn't have family here, and being a single parent is tough, so when I was about five, we went back to live with her family in Tuscany.

"My grandmother and grandfather welcomed us and loved us. We lived on their vineyard, which is where I learned to love the lifestyle." He reaches over and pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear and rubs my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

The man is forever touching me.

And I don't seem to mind.

"Mama worked as a personal assistant for a high-powered hotelier based in Florence, which was about twenty minutes from our home. When I was sixteen, the hotelier decided to come to the States to build a new resort, and he of course expected Mama to come with him, so we both came."

"What did you think of that?" I ask. I can't take my eyes off of him. He's so expressive as he talks; his accent more pronounced when he speaks of his family and the home of his childhood.

"I didn't want to come. I was horrible to her. I had suspicions that she was having an affair with him, and that's why he wanted her to come with him."

My eyebrows climb into my hairline. "Was she?"

"Probably. But if they were, it was discreet. I do know that they had a great deal of affection and respect for each other."

"That's nice," I murmur.

"So, we came to California. Mama's boss, Arturo Baldovini, was building a big resort near Sonoma."

"Wine country," I murmur with a grin, as Dom refills both our glasses, emptying the bottle.

"Exactly. Once we settled in, I did well. I took jobs with the vineyards during the harvest, earned my own money. I graduated from high school there and then went to college at Sonoma State University."

"Why there?"

"I didn't want to be far from my mom, just in case she needed me." He shrugs. "But then the resort was finished in my sophomore year, and Arturo and Mama returned to Italy."

"And you stayed."

"I stayed. I love it here. I worked my way through vineyards all over California, learning everything I could, so I could one day own one of my own."

"You don't really even have much of an accent unless you speak Italian."

"I've lived here a long time. Well, until Mama got sick about five years ago. I was thirty, and I got a call from Gianna that Mama was sick with cancer, and that I should go home. So I did." He sips his wine and cringes. "She passed less than six months later."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, the point of all of this is, while she was living, it never really occurred to me to look for my biological father. My life was happy and full, and I had a wonderful family. And during the few moments that I did wonder, it felt like I was being disloyal to her.

"About a month after she passed, I was going through some of her things and I found a box full of journals. I set them aside, intending to read them one day, but I wasn't ready yet.

"Arturo came to see me, and said that Mama had asked him to help her invest her money, which he had, and to my utter shock, had done it well. She left me millions, Alecia."

My jaw drops as I watch his face, the awe and the love crossing his face.

"Arturo said, 'Your one dream has always been to own your own vineyard. This is your chance to own it anywhere in the world you want.'"

"And you chose here."

"I chose this land before I knew about Steven."

"No way! That's too big of a coincidence."

"It's true." He lifts a bottle off the floor at his feet and deftly uncorks it, then pours us each a fresh glass. "I'd owned this place for about two years when I came across that box of journals again. I pulled one out of the box, and a letter addressed to me fell out of it. She said that she was sorry for not telling me sooner about my father, but that she didn't know how it could affect him. She didn't give me all of the details, and Steven has filled me in on what she didn't say since then, but he was on a business trip and picked her up in a bar. It was a one night stand thing, and after they had sex, he confessed that he was separated from his wife, and that he missed her and his children."

"Wow."

"Yeah. He'd left her his business card, so she knew how to reach him, and when she found out she was pregnant, she did call the number on the card, but his wife answered."

"They'd reconciled," I guess.

"Yes, and Mama couldn't bear the thought of ripping his family apart. So, she didn't tell him.

"I almost didn't look for him, knowing about his family. I didn't want them to think that I was trying to start some drama, or interrupt their lives. But I admit, I was curious."

"I would be too," I add. This wine is going to my head.

"So, I hired a private investigator, and within about a month, he found him."

"And all that time, you were less than an hour away."