The memory of the music festival strikes me in a flash, and then Marie's playful expression is gone, and her face returns to the cool confidence of a winery owner.

“So why would you want to move here, Kiera? Why would you move away from the coast, where you have music festivals and the beach?”

“Why don’t you move to the city, if you don’t like it here?” I challenge, cocking an eyebrow.

She grips the edge of the desk with her delicate fingers, rocking a little, like she’s contemplating my words. “I like it here. The job. The space. I just wish for more. I don’t want you to take this job if you are not aware of what you will be giving up. I have lost people to this very thing. There is no Space Needle in this part of Washington.”

“But there’s nature. Peace and quiet. Different opportunities that I can’t get in the city.”

She studies me, her gaze sending a tendril of heat through my midsection. Whatever she’s thinking makes a flush creep into her cheeks, and she clears her throat.

“And what attracts you to my winery, of all places?” she says, not meeting my eye.

“Your reputation. I used to work at a steakhouse, and your wine was the best on the menu.”

She sits taller, and I silently congratulate myself for flattering her.

She could be a painting, the way she’s perched on the desk, all curves and poise. She knows she runs a good business, and it’s evident in the way she holds her head and unapologetically takes up space.

I’m staring. I drop my gaze to the wooden desk, where her fingers tap a rhythm on the edge.

Silence stretches between us.

“You disappeared that day,” I say quietly. “I never learned anything about you except your first name.”

She studies me before answering. “I was only visiting Seattle for the festival. I hitchhiked to get there. My parents didn’t know until it was too late.”

A breath of laughter escapes. “You must have been in big trouble.”

“I was grounded for a month when I got home.” She sighs, holding my gaze. “It was worth it. Just to get away from here and see the city for a weekend.”

Interesting. I imagine her growing up on this vineyard, stuck here, dreaming of city life.

“Did your parents keep close tabs on you?” I ask.

“I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, never mind the big city.”

This explains her doubts about why anyone would leave urban life to come work here. She’s spent her life stuck on this plot of land. This career was probably part of her future from the day she was born.

But I’ve spent my life stuck in the city. This vineyard calls my name, and so does a peaceful life far from everything I’ve ever known. I need something new.

“If…” I clear my throat. “If you had lived in the city, would you have asked for my number that day?”

My lips tingle as the words come out. Maybe it’s inappropriate to ask. But I need to know. I’ve needed to know for years.

A flush rises in her cheeks.

“Yes. I think I would have.” She drops her gaze, brow furrowed. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened between us if I didn’t need to leave that day?”

“All the time,” I say without hesitating.

She stops tapping her fingers on the desk. The room is silent. She leans closer, her face hovering inches from mine.

“My employees are involved in the winemaking process.” Her timbre lowers to a purr that makes me shiver. “Are you good with your hands?”

“Very good,” I say, mouth dry.

The way she’s perched on the desk, leaning close, I have to tilt my head to meet her gaze. The ghost of a smile pulls at her ruby lips, and it’s the same playful one I fell hard for five years ago.

“And you have a palate for wine?” she says.

“I’m also good with my tongue if that’s what you’re asking.”

Oh my god, did I really just say that?

What am I doing, saying these things to my potential employer? This is not the same girl I wanted to kiss while we were in bikinis five years ago. This is an interview.

She stares at me, expression unreadable.

This is a disaster. Time to thank her and get out of here. Maybe there’s another winery in the area that’s open to interviewing me today.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. That was—”

“Do you want to show me what you mean?” she murmurs.

Part 3 coming tomorrow. Read the full story right now on “Sweet & Spicy Sapphic Stories” at patreon.com/tianawarner. Plus you’ll get early access to next week’s story!