I’m watching Jerry hammer away at the cherry wood bar in the Climax tasting room. He’s only been on the job for a day, but he’s definitely killing it. Thank God for jailhouse job experience programs, because I only had to give him minimal directions before he was off and running.

The man’s sure bent on changing, and he’s making the most of his second chance. Lucky guy.

When my phone vibrates in my back pocket, a jolt of hope zings through me. I still haven’t trained myself to accept that Gwen isn’t going to call me now or ever, but even so, when I glance at the screen, my stomach sinks when I inevitably don’t see her name.

It’s Mattie Hollister, and I always take the boss’s calls. I don’t have the luxury of brooding and keeping the line free for Gwen. Once again, she ain’t gonna contact me, and if I try to get in touch with her, she’s going to sic the sheriff’s deputy on my ass. As for Mattie, every time I see her she’s got a sheepish look, but as I told Miguel, she’s not the one to blame for my mess.

Listlessly, I wander outside of the banging and buzzing tasting room, pushing up the brim of my hardhat and looking up at the bruised evening sky. It’s quitting time.

I answer the phone. “Hey, Mattie.”

“Quinn!” She’s somewhere loud, with a lot of happy voices and music. Then all of that gets muffled, as if she’s shut a door on it. “It’s done, my friend!”

Her giddiness makes me wander past the finished patio so I can take this call in absolute privacy. “What’s done?”

“While I was here at the Milton’s reopening, I talked to Gwen!”

Oh, shit. My pulse skips dangerously, and I’m half dreading what she’ll say next and half eager to hear it.

“Good news,” she says. “You’ve got an open window! I think Gwen might be ready for a talk with you.”

Seriously? Fuck yes! But there’s still a part of me that can’t believe this. “What did you tell her?”

“The truth — that you’re a solid, trustworthy guy, and I wouldn’t have anyone less working on my baby.”

Her “baby” is Climax, and her words warm me. I stop at the top of the walking path by the creek, once again seeing the memory of Gwen standing by the water on that day she came to me for help with Milton’s. I’m seeing her blonde hair, her wary blue eyes — a deceptively strong woman who needed aid in a time of crisis. A woman I’d do anything to have back in my life.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah, Mattie. Thanks for doing that.” The memory of Gwen fades, only to fill me up with a new hope. “So you say there’s an open window?”

“Open just a crack. Are you going to do something about it? Because this is the time.”

Now I can see that there’s some light left in the gray sky, but I … hell, I have no idea what to do. I have no more shiny objects to dangle in front of Gwen to lure her in. I only have me. So what is it about me that could win her back?

Mattie’s already going at warp speed. “I’ve got some advice if you want it.”

“Please.”

“I swear, you’re just like my brother, thinking he knows everything about women but finding his hands empty when it comes time to deal the right cards. What is the one thing that Gwen needs from you?”

“The whole truth. And she needs to trust me, but I sure blew that.”

“So work on her trust by using the truth.”

It finally hits me. If Gwen wants the truth, I should give her all of it. “I’ve got documents, like the police report from the domestic abuse incident. It contains witness accounts saying Debra was the one with the bad temper, not me. I can scan and email those to her. It’s not very romantic, but—”

“It opens this window you have that much wider. I like it. You know what else you could do? Sweeten the deal. Put some romantic effort into telling her how sorry you are.”

“In other words, a gift.” I laugh. “A groveling gift.”

“Says the man who’d obviously crawl to the ends of the earth for her.”

Yeah, I sure fucking would, and as we start throwing ideas back and forth, hope takes me over.

Now I just have to hold my breath until Gwen receives what I’m offering.