Beauty from Pain(29)

So we are back to that again. “I watched my mom raise three kids in my dad’s absence. Don’t get me wrong. My dad is great, but he was never home. I’m not doing that to a wife and kids. It’s not fair.” Wow, where did that come from?


“That’s a very selfless way of thinking.”


“That only proves you don’t know me. I assure you I’m anything but selfless.” I don’t want to talk about myself anymore. She makes me afraid I will slip and say too much. I’m not used to so many personal questions. “What about Paige Beckett? Does she see a band of gold in her future?”


She gets that twinkle in her eye like most women have when they think about weddings and babies. “I want to get married and have children one day.”


She finishes making a sanger from the fresh bread and deli meat and passes it to me. “Children? That must mean you want more than one ankle-biter, huh?”


“Oh, definitely. I want at least two because it sucks being an only child.”


“That’ll be hard to juggle with a music career.”


“I didn’t say I had all the details worked out, but there’s plenty of time for that.” She holds her arms out toward the rows of vines. “I want to know more about this.”


I tell her about the vineyard, the grapes, and explain winemaking while we eat. She watches my face, truly interested and mesmerized by the process, which is unlike the other women I’ve been with. They weren’t interested in me—only what I could do for them. Except for one.


She has no idea, but this is a huge stretch for me. It’s the first time I’ve brought one of my companions to any of my homes on the vineyard. The remote distance from town doesn’t leave me much choice, but I feel comfortable bringing her here since she isn’t from Australia and won’t be showing up on my doorstep six months from now.


After we finish eating, I stand and reach for her hands to help her up. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you. I think you’ll like it very much.”


We pack the remains of our picnic and drive toward the property behind the house. I park the ATV outside a pair of large ornate wooden doors leading to the storage area for the wine.


“Where are we?”


“This is a wine cave.”


“I’ve never heard of that before.”


“It’s where wine is stored.” I reach for her hand and help her from the ATV. “Come on. I can tell that you’re going to appreciate this.”


I open one of the doors to the cave and lead her inside to see the products of my livelihood. She’s mesmerized as her eyes study everything from the stonework dome over our heads to the rows of wine barrels lining each room. “This is … incredible. How was it built?”


“It’s dug out of the ground like a basement and a frame is constructed to keep it from caving in from the weight of the ground around it.”


She notices the ceiling. “The stone arches are gorgeous.”


The arches aren’t the only beautiful thing in this room. The dim glow of the lanterns dances across her face as she studies her surroundings, and I have no doubt that the next three months are going to be spectacular. But first, she has to tell me yes.


She is going to say yes. I’m going to see to it.


I follow her into the next room where the special events are held and she explores like a curious child. She sees the tables and is about to ask for an explanation, but I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to feel her against me again. I’m eager to finish what I started two nights ago.


She’s surveying the long dining hall table when I creep up behind her. “Why is there a … oh.”


I slide one of my arms around her waist and pull her back against me. With my free arm, I push her hair over one shoulder. I press my lips to the exposed skin on her neck and trail kisses toward her ear. “I can’t stand it any longer. I need to touch you.”


She leans against me and laces her fingers through my hand on her waist. This is her way of showing me that she’ll welcome more of what I’m doing. I sneak my hand under the hem of her shirt and glide it upward until my palm finds her lace-clad breast. I feel her nipple grow hard through the lace as I slowly stroke it. I push my hand inside the cup of her bra from the top so I can free it from its entrapment.