Chaos Among The Vines, page 15
I’m relaxed.
It surprised her to catalog her physical state as laid-back. When Will had helped her into the car, she’d tensed. Climbing into the vehicle reminded her of the awful months spent calling a station wagon home. But before she could panic, Will had settled behind the wheel and claimed the fist she had clenched on the armrest. The warmth of his hand on hers melted the tension shivering across her shoulders.
During a brief stop at the office, she’d remained in the car, albeit with the door open and a breeze blowing through the cab. Will had jogged back, hauled his cute butt into the seat, gave her the happy-to-be-playing hooky grin, and shifted into gear.
They’d only been driving for about ten minutes before he turned down the shady gravel road. He’d held her hand the whole time, and she let him. She’d promised him no business this afternoon. That included worrying about stepping over the line with a client. Nope, today she was leaping over that boundary with both feet. She might even click her heels together as she did it.
“Almost there.” Will squeezed her hand.
“Where exactly is ‘there?’”
“My secret fishing hole.” One side of his mouth quirked and he affected a deep southern accent. “Actually, it’s a pond on the northern edge of the vineyard. We’ve been lucky and gotten a fair amount of rain here, so it’s mostly full.”
Avalon quirked a brow. “Do you really fish?”
“Yep. Nothing big in the pond, just some blue gill and carp. And a snapping turtle. I don’t keep anything I catch.”
“Hang on. You spend time tossing a line in the water, wait endless minutes for some poor, stupid fish to take your bait, then you throw it back? Wouldn’t it be more efficient—”
Will pressed his fingers to her mouth. “Uh-uh. Not using the ‘E’ word. Not today.” He stroked his thumb along her bottom lip before removing his hand to navigate over a low bridge.
“But fishing is already a colossal waste of time, and then to throw back what you catch?”
“Colossal? That’s a big word.” He laughed. “I’m not fishing to eat, Ava. I fish to unwind. You shouldn’t knock it until you try it.” There was distinct challenge under his lightly chastising tone.
“How does that work?” She was genuinely curious, and for the first time considered what leisure time must be like. “I can’t fathom standing on a riverbank, tossing a line in the water and then just waiting for things to happen. The anticipation would kill me.”
“Well, it would be more proactive if the fish just jumped onto the shore for you. But there’s the whole breathing out of water issue.” Will looked at her a moment, then pulled under a large pine tree and shoved the gearshift into park. He spun and faced her. Sliding his arm along the back of her seat, he toyed with the ends of her hair, making her glad she’d scraped it back into a ponytail. Companionable silence stretched between them.
He skimmed his knuckles over her jaw. “Don’t you ever just hang out?”
“And do what?”
“Um . . . nothing.”
Suppressing a shudder, she shook her head.
Will barked out a laugh, and leaned forward. Cupping her cheeks, he pressed a hard kiss to her mouth, smiling as he pulled back. “Challenge accepted. The education of Ava starts now.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Or do I?
To be honest with herself, she loved the sound of it, but found it scary.
Will’s mouth curved in an evil grin. “Oh, you will.” His heated gaze promised she’d not only like it, but that she’d probably love it.
The ache already throbbing in her sex kicked into a spritely pulse. Her breath shortened as he dropped his warm hand to her thigh and squeezed. She bit her lower lip and he tracked the movement with his gaze. The air in the front seat seemed to condense and crackle electrically between them.
He tightened his fingers briefly before letting her go and leaping from the SUV. The calming breath she pulled into her lungs proved ineffective. Probably because while he rounded the front end his low chuckle, audible through her open window, skated along her nerve endings.
The door popped open, then the one behind her whooshed as well. Avalon stumbled from the front seat, surprised the ground tilted under her feet. Or maybe that was just her senses.
Will grabbed the hamper. “Can you take this? I’ll get the rest. There’s a decent flat spot beneath the tree. Perfect for a nice, relaxing afternoon.”
He pushed the hamper into her numb fingers, then spun her around. His light push at the small of her back launched her toward the spot he’d pointed out. A glance over her shoulder verified he’d remained in place, watching her lurch away from him, his gaze glued to her butt.
Focusing, she evened out her gait and sauntered to a patch of thick green grass under a sycamore tree. His deep groan was almost lost in the sound of the back gate of the SUV lifting. Good, she wasn’t the only affected by the chemistry simmering between them. Recalling the scene in his bedroom, when he’d pressed so hungrily against her, she longed to feel his desire again. To burst into flames in his arms and succumb to the chaotic rambling nerves his presence evoked.
She shouldn’t want him, but she did. It was inconvenient. It would be messy.
And she couldn’t wait.
Her hands shook as she spread out the soft cotton blanket he’d brought. She kicked off her flip-flops, enjoying the cool texture of the grass beneath her bare toes. Will propped two fishing poles against the tree, then caught a corner of the blanket and helped her straighten it.
He dropped to his rump in the center of the large red square and dragged the picnic hamper toward him. While she settled facing him, her feet nudging his thigh, he dug the makings of their feast from the basket.
“I brought some cold pasta salad left over from last night. I’ve got cheese, deli meat, and crackers. And home-baked cookies.”
“Did Penny bring cookies this morning?” Avalon didn’t recall seeing them earlier. But she had been preoccupied with reliving the press of Will’s firm chest against her nipples . . .
“Guin made them last night while you were working in your room. Didn’t you smell them? Deluxe chocolate chip.” He patted his lean gut. “I ate at least six still warm from the oven.”
“Guin bakes?” It was news to Avalon. Frowning in concentration, she tried to recall a single moment when Mom had done something so domestic. So motherly.
Nope, nothing.
“Yeah. They’re delicious. Try one.” He offered the bag to her. When she didn’t snag one immediately, he laughed. “Oh, come on. Live a little. Dessert before dinner is decadent and spontaneous.”
He broke off a corner and scooted toward her. With his hand on her knee, he fed the piece to her, brushing his thumb along her lip. Chocolate melted on her tongue as her core followed suit. She chewed, swallowed. Thought maybe she’d died and gone to heaven. It was the best cookie she’d ever eaten.
She looked to the bag, then back to Will. “More?”
“Someone likes them.” He leaned forward and tongued nonexistent crumbs from her mouth. He’d eaten one as well and the taste lingered on his lips.
He cupped his hands around her neck, stroked his thumbs along her jaw, and prolonged the lip-to-lip contact. Avalon grasped his wrists and held on as he slid his tongue between her lips and explored her mouth. She inched closer to him, losing herself in the feel of his lips, the heat in his fingertips, the pure, delightful taste of him.
Will tugged the elastic securing her ponytail, freeing her hair. A low rumble came from deep in his chest as he skimmed his fingers from scalp to ends, then started over again.
Overhead, a squirrel scampered through the branches and a wren scolded, its typically sweet warble a strident rhythmic chirp, like the second hand of a clock. The sound accentuated the buzz of her watch, alerting her to incoming mail. A message she struggled to ignore. As the seconds ticked away, she tensed under Will’s hands.
He eased back from her. “Knew I should have forbidden you from wearing that watch to a picnic.”
“At least I left my phone at the villa. Old habits die hard.” She released his wrists and pulled free of his hands. Leaning back, she rested her palms on the blanket’s downy softness.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you of that particular habit.”
“Will, I—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, then fed her another bite of cookie. “Shh. We’ll go slow.”
She nodded.
“Are cookies before dinner the only food prohibition you have, or do you not drink before five o’clock?”
“If the wine is good, I’m not opposed.”
He swiped his hand across his brow. “Whew! I was worried I really had my work cut out for me.”
Drawing two plastic wineglasses from the basket, he handed them to her, and dug out a corkscrew. Gripping the bottle between his thighs, he withdrew the cork with practiced motions, then offered it to her.
She traded him glasses and while he poured, raised the red-stained stopper to her nose. Tart cherries, zippy pepper and sweet spice wafted into her senses. “This smells out of this world.” Accepting the half-filled stem, she sipped, coating her tongue with heady flavor.
“I make three different kinds of wine, and this one is easily my favorite.” Will buried his nose in the glass and drew a gusty sniff. “This is my private reserve. We only sell it to a few upscale stores. By keeping its release limited, we’ve managed to create a demand for the product.” His voice rang with pride and satisfaction.
“Smart.” She took another sip and held it on her tongue a moment. The liquid boasted a heat as seductive as Will. She let it trickle down her throat. “What was it like, seeing your wine on the television?”
“It was surreal. One of the actors, Matt Samone, took his wife on a wine tour. Rolling in the Clover was their first stop. They skipped the next two wineries to hang out with me. Before they left, they arranged to have two cases shipped to them each month. Matt shared a couple bottles with his cast mates, and they all fell in love with it. The production company requested permission to show my label on the show. Not that they actually drank the wine on TV, but just having the label there was . . . amazing.” The look in his eyes still reflected his happiness.
“Kind of like lightning striking.”
“Exactly.” He beamed at her. “Drake is looking into buying extra acreage so we can grow more grapes and bottle more wine. Even the whites are gaining in popularity. Distributors have told me that once a customer sees our logo on the bottle, they’re snatching up the available stock.” His expression suddenly clouded.
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes. But it means more work.”
“Good thing I showed up, huh?” She rested her elbows on her drawn up knees, wineglass dangling from her fingers.
“Enough work talk.” Will clinked his glass against hers. “To relaxing.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“To relaxing,” Ava echoed, the look on her face seriously skeptical.
She took a sip, then dropped her gaze, trying to hide the fact she was checking the alerts on her watch.
Fighting exasperation, Will positioned the appetizer plate between them, then topped off their wine. He’d had her relaxed and pliant in his arms. Two seconds away from crawling over her, pressing her back against the blanket. He could spend the afternoon kissing her, talking to her. Discovering more about her.
But she’d gotten shaky on him. So he’d backed off. Casting about for something to break the tension between them, he asked, “What do you do for fun?”
“Fun?”
“Oh, lord. You’re making me wish you had your phone so you could look up the definition.”
“I know the definition of fun.” She nibbled a slice of smoked Gouda.
Will shook his head. “Okay, I’ll start.” He popped a grape in his mouth and tried to pick one of the things he liked. “Before we got so busy at the vineyard, I used to get on my bike on Sundays and ride for a couple of hours.”
“Hours? I can’t stand to be on even a stationary bike for more than twenty minutes.”
“Not the same at all. There’s no scenery to look at. No nature to appreciate.” He snagged another grape, tossed it in the air and moved to catch it.
“I tried a spinning class where the instructor showed videos of trails,” she mused. “But I couldn’t pay attention to the images because I was so exhausted from trying to keep up with him shouting instructions. Not in the least relaxing.”
Curiosity snaked into his tone. “Then why’d you do it?”
“I needed the exercise and I wanted to maximize calorie burn. Best method to achieve the goal quickly.”
Will slapped his hand to his forehead. “Have you ever ridden for enjoyment, not for a workout?”
“I find there aren’t enough hours in the day to crowd work and enjoyment in. But I need to work out, so I picked the one thing I didn’t hate.” Her voice was defensive, cross.
“I have an idea. Drink up.” He drained his glass. Her lips pursed, brows knitted in a frown. Fingering the base of her wine stem, he edged it up until she took a sip. “Promise, it won’t hurt.”
She gulped the last few mouthfuls. When he reached for the glass, she held on. He tugged it from her grasp and set it at the edge of the blanket, alongside his. On his knees, he crawled around her until he settled immediately behind her, then spread his thighs and inched closer, snugging her between his legs. The warmth of her body lit him on fire. Her back remained stiff, but her breath sped up.
Brushing her hair out of the way, he dug his fingers into her shoulders. Her moan burst out, deep and rolling. Sexy as fuck. Satisfaction simmered low in his gut when she dropped her chin to her chest and purred under his massage. That purr galvanized his body, his dick pressing hard into the front of his jeans. It took every shred of discipline he possessed to keep from pulling her back against him, dragging her shorts down, settling her on his lap, and burying himself deep in her slick heat.
Ava wasn’t the only person breathing deep. He all but wheezed with need.
“Damn, this was supposed to be relaxing,” he muttered, his forehead pressed against her neck.
“I’m relaxed.”
“Yeah, well, I’m about as unrelaxed as a man can get when he’s holding a beautiful woman in his arms.”
“Will.” She edged forward, away from his kneading fingers. “Um, weren’t you going to teach me to fish? You said fishing helps you unwind.”
She popped up, and lurched toward the tree where he’d stashed his other poles. When she slid her fingers along the sleek bamboo, the wood in his pants leapt to attention.
Will rested his elbows on his knees and bent his head to his forearms, willing the steely erection to ease, and his heavy sac to lighten the fuck up.
Ava dragged the reel end of the poles through the grass as she strode to the water’s edge. She dropped both rods to the ground and cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Coming?”
A single tiny, innocent, evocative word and one thought surged up. He’d love to be coming . . . in her. Everything in his body that had loosened, tightened back up again. Tremors rippled up his spine as he fought for restraint.
Picking up a fishing pole, Ava wiggled it in the air, acting like she was about to throw the lure into the water. The tip of the apparatus tangled in the low-hanging branches. She jerked it forward, but the hook snagged in the leaves. His cock barely under control, he struggled to his feet and went to help.
“Got it.” Stretching his arms overhead, Will pulled it free, the nylon fishing line biting into the pads of his fingers. “Where’d you learn about casting in?”
“The Andy Griffith show. To fly under Child Protection services radar, we had to alternate where I’d go after school. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I had to wait for Mom to pick me up from the laundromat. They had a TV in the corner and the manager was nice enough to not shoo me away or call the authorities. The channel was always tuned to kid friendly shows.”
He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt, knowing at any given moment, the place where she’d sought sanctuary might chase her away because she wasn’t a paying customer. He grasped her elbow and led her to a clear spot on the bank.
“Well, Andy was doing it wrong if you learned that cast from him. Let me show you.”
He positioned her to face the water, then tucked in behind her. The heat between them intensified as his body made contact. Sweeping his knuckles down her arm to her wrist, he circled his fingers around the fine bones below her damn watch. His chest bumped her back and he steadied her with a hand on her ribs, digging his fingers into the sleek muscles there.
Her hips brushed his as he pulled their arms back to cast. His hand slid around to her front, balancing her through the movement. Saliva dried in his mouth as he battled the urge to shift his hold, and cup her sex.
The lure plopped into the water about ten yards away from them. Not a great cast, but the best he could do with the distraction of his body wrapped around Ava’s. She pulsed her butt backward and widened her stance.
Oh, God!
Will cleared the lust from his throat with a strangled cough. “Now, reel the line in,” he instructed.
Ava edged back, bracing herself against his pelvis, like she was about to reel in a marlin. She spun the handle on the reel. “Like this?” The line jerked.
“More smoothly. Like this.” He brought his hand over hers and helped her even out the cranking motion, trying desperately not to think about her hand moving in the same compelling motion on his cock.
Under his fingertips, her wrist buzzed, breaking the spell between them.
“That’s it!” He wrested the rod from her fingers, and threw it to the ground. He spun her around. Lifting her wrist, he quickly undid the magnetic clasp and stripped the device off her arm.
