Heart Nectar

by Davee Jones

  As if lecturing by osmosis, Nixie seared a message loud and clear across the molecules that only Mindie could telepathically hear-you’re going on this excursion. Verbally, though, she made polite excuses. “George, it’s wonderful to see you again. As much as I’d like to show you around our fledgling grape garden, Mindie will fulfill that obligation.” Sidestepping her best friend, she waved while making her way into the back part of the store.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you are trying to ditch me.” George crossed the space between them quickly with long strides. “What is it about me that makes you so bristly?”

  Mindie didn’t have any better excuse for her behavior anymore that day than she had a justification for her bitchiness the night before. Waging a war inside her body was the desire to flirt unscrupulously against running wildly in the opposite direction. She’d already had her lion’s share of Stansfield men, and it was early in the partnership. “You call it bristly, and I call it me being me. I’m not the warm and fuzzy type who loves kittens and rainbows.” Ironically, Chardonnay chose that very time to purr loudly and rub up against her leg, daring her to ignore him. No friggin’ way did that damn cat just call her out like that…

  “I’ll accept you are football tough. But, more like flag football, or powder puff tough, not full on tackle.” Squatting down, he held a hand out to Chardonnay, offering tentative friendship. The skeptical cat wound his tall tail around Mindie’s lower leg, a seeking protection move. Cautiously reaching his nose forward, he sniffed George’s fingertips, testing the interloper for worthiness.

  Looking downward at his introduction to the cat, her mind dropped lower as well –as in the gutter lower. Even on squatted knees, George’s tall frame put his face at a very noticeable, and convenient, height. He could be face to bush if she took a couple of steps forward. Mindie’s torso broke out in a light sweat. Fighting a sudden urge to thrust her hips forward, Mindie awkwardly stepped backward instead, tripping on a forgotten box. “Well shit…”

  George stood, at the same time he reaching his hands forward to grab Mindie. Saving her from falling backward, he instead ended up body to body with her. “The things I’d do to get close to you. I wouldn’t let you fall.”

  Mindie’s rapid breathing echoed in her ears. Almost panting, her rapid exhalations sounded as if she just ran a race. Gripping George’s forearms with both hands, she dug her fingers in unnecessarily deep. From this closeness, she took in a lovely aroma of lime, black pepper, and fresh linen. The starch in his shirt smelled fresh, as if he just ironed it that morning. If she opened her mouth to take a breath in, would she taste the same delights tripping inside her nose? Where her mouth had been dry a few seconds before, her salivary glands were now working overtime. She swallowed away her response to his mouthwatering appeal, but it came out more of a gulp.

  “Tenuous predicament we have here, don’t we?”

  Shaking her hands free of his grasp, Mindie scooted a little to her right, not quite far enough away from his all-too-appetizing body, but, it was better than melting into a puddle at his feet. How was she supposed to deal with him? Obviously, it had been too long since she’d had a relationship with a man. It took a prime specimen standing within inches for her to realize the importance of certain aspects of living. Her mid-brain became one of immaturity or primitive need- focused intently on the physical experiences, not the more pressing intellectual ones. “Let’s just go to the vineyard now. I’m parked out back, you can follow me in your car.” Turning away before he could say anything, she hoped for a clean getaway.

  “Not so fast, we can ride together. We’ll have some details to discuss, I’m sure of it.”

  Assuming he would suggest they ride together, she should’ve been prepared with a comeback. Oddly, she was not. Did she somehow subconsciously want to ride in his car? The place where his essence lingered within the confines of surfaces and materials prone to absorption. Didn’t someone once say a man’s car was simply an extension of himself? If someone didn’t, they should have. They always have clever observations.

  Who the hell was the mysterious they anyway? She was stalling in a hardcore way with asinine ponderings and she knew it.

  “Earth to Mindie, are you in there?”

  “Yes, sorry, was thinking about…a shipping…problem. It just came up, my mind sidetracked.” Thinking on the fly wasn’t her strong suit, and making up excuses definitely wasn’t, she had to try something. “The pressures of owning a business, we can’t leave it at the office.” Throwing her hands up on either side of her shoulders, she shrugged. Glancing around, Mindie made a further trivial remark. “We’re at the office, aren’t we? See, told you we couldn’t leave it. We, as in Nixie and me, we. Not you and me we.”

  “I won’t bite. You shouldn’t be nervous.”

  “See, right there, that’s just the kind of thing that would make me nervous- statements like that one. Why would you tell me I shouldn’t be nervous? I’m a grown woman, I can handle myself.” What the hell! All her babbling almost proved she required supervision. It even made her wonder how she dressed herself that day.

  Gently taking her hand, George pulled her along. “C’mon, I need more coffee if I’m going to keep up with your brain.”

  Putting aside all her protests, he bought her coffee and breakfast at the Triple B Bakery. Braden Buttery Bites had been a morning staple in their town as long as she could remember. The ladies had the market on fresh baked wonders, and new items popped up on the menu frequently. “Good morning, Merryn! How’s the little one?”

  Merryn smiled as only a new mother could. “That baby girl has us both wrapped.”

  “Ahh, how is my cousin anyway?”

  “He’s the best daddy ever. He’s running some errands for me right now. We don’t know if we’re coming or going anymore, what with the baby and the bakery.”

  “Maybe you should call it the Quadruple B Bakery!”

  “That’s a thought.” Suddenly, a faint baby’s cry floated from behind the glass case. The baby monitor caught every little hiccup or whine. “Whoops, Harriet’s calling me. I’ll catch you later okay? Call me so we can catch up.” Winking at Mindie, she nodded her head in the direction where George sat.

  Moving quickly toward their table, she hoped George hadn’t caught on to Merryn’s inferred impression. Her flighty attention moved swiftly to the plate in front of her. Taking a bite of a gooey frosted pastry, Mindie almost forgot the company she kept for this particularly glorious meal. “These things are incredible.” Her blue lady balls received some relief from the bakery comfort food.

  “I’ve never seen a cinnamon roll as big as my face before. I’m truly impressed.”

  “You sidetracked our mission with food, totally unfair.” Muffled speech equaled bad table manners. She didn’t care.

  “We need our strength. Haven’t you heard, breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

  “I’ve got a little secret for you. That whole concept about the important meal thing was invented by exercise clubs, it’s a gimmick to keep their customer numbers up. Cinnamon rolls equal memberships, I’m telling ya, it’s the truth.”

  “Not everyone eats junk like this every day.”

  Putting a finger to her mouth, Mindie shushed him. “Hey, hey, hey, these are my peeps, you’re gonna insult someone.”

  “I meant junk in the best possible way. As you can see, I’m indulging my inner sweet-tooth monster just as much as you are.”

  “Yeah, totally on my behalf though. There’s no way you eat high calories like this on a regular.”

  “Okay, so, I don’t binge on bad carbs and processed sugar. I still don’t always eat like I should.”

  Sweet Jesus, dirty images slow danced across the highlight reel of her memories. Why did he have to say eat? She was a total cavewoman when faced with such suggestive talk. “How do you eat?”

  What. The. Hell. Did she really say what she thought she said?

  “How I eat?
Hmm, I prefer my woman lying with her legs dangling off the bed. You know, so I can lean over and really get my mouth in there. I’m so tall I can easily drop to my knees so I can stay down there as long as I need to.”

  Blinking, Mindie shook her head a time or two. She had to be imagining things, putting words in his mouth for her own sick pleasure. His mouth. Oh, his mouth. What did he really say? Did he even say anything?

  “Hey, are you alright, you zoned out again?”

  Okay, whew, he didn’t stoop to her pornographic level. “I’m fine, fine…fine.” Each fine exited her mouth at a different tone, pitch, and volume as if she was performing a microphone check. “I was just thinking about…you know…my menu, I mean our menu at Heart Nectar.” Whatever was wrong with her she had to quit it right then, before she went and busted out with some proposition raunchy enough to embarrass both of them. Yet, her timely response made her giggle. The hidden meaning behind eating and menu went as well together as chocolate and wine, peanut butter and jelly, her vibrator and lube. She snorted, the well-honed call of the outrageously funny. Something she’d never been able to stop since she began full-belly laughter years and years before. The snort only made the situation worse, and she chuckled even harder.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was the butt of some fantastic inside joke. Since it’s just the two of us, I’d have to wonder who was inside you.”

  Oh stop it, he didn’t just say who was inside you? Not your brother for damn sure. Tears poured from her eyes while she guffawed from nonsense only she could understand. Unable to even explain, she laughed so hard she fought for air. The normally sedate, well-controlled Mindie Larsen was having a meltdown of masculine, no epic, proportions right in front of her would be business investor. Next thing she might start farting if she lost control of her sphincter muscles with all the loose release going on up top.

  “I’m not sure how my normal diet of high protein, very little refined foods is so funny.”

  Covering her mouth with one hand, Mindie held up one finger with the other, the universal sign for hold on. Lifting her mug, she sipped tepid coffee, wishing she had some ice to shock the stupid out of her awareness. When she finally gathered her wits, she attempted to explain herself. “I’m very neutral, most of the time. But, I can’t deny I have the most juvenile sense of humor on the planet. Something struck me funny and I just couldn’t stop. I’m sorry.”

  “I think you’re adorable. You’re showing me this fun person who also happens to be a successful entrepreneur, not to mention an artist. It’s nice when you let the guard down a little bit.”

  Letting her guard down had been something she avoided for a long time. Somewhere along the business route, Mindie became stoic and dull- she could admit it. The invisible rod up her ass must have been implanted by corporate aliens because she wasn’t sure of the exact moment it happened. She damn well felt it most days though, firmly jammed between her imbedded sense of humor and humanity. Yes, sense of humor is housed well below the head, it’s right in your guts- living out loud whenever possible, and when not hindered by some unnecessary shaft. Something must be shaking free. She didn’t like this dislocation at all.

  “I can’t be taken seriously if I’m too loose.” Loose? What the hell? “I mean, not focused or serious about my work.”

  “Everyone gets a break, don’t get so wound up, you’ll burn out and shatter.”

  She was burning up in certain places for sure. Must be wanting-the-forbidden phenomenon running her show. “Speaking of break, this one really should be over. We need to get to the vineyard before it gets too hot.” Something about being around George made her pleasantly uncomfortable. They needed to get the rest of this little outing finished.

  Leaving a hefty tip on the table, George stood. “Shall we?” Reaching out a hand to assist her from the chair, he once again displayed the consummate gentleman.

  Shit, her fingertips came alive against his sincere gesture. His grip was comforting, yet firm, invoking the intimate portion of her imagination. His hands would probably cradle her ass just perfectly. She could say goodbye to her favorite blanket, letting him drape over the chilly parts, heating them up naturally, like a private solar energy station. Greedy, every nerve ending underneath her skin sought the experience of holding his hand. As soon as she was standing, she jerked her hand back, pulling it into her belly. “I got it.”

  “Absolutely…you do.”

  Stalking out the café, she barely said goodbye to the friendly staff. Instead, swiping her seemingly burned hand upward, Mindie uttered something between goodbye and farewell. She was sure those ladies would never see the same woman again after her encounter with the Stansfield brothers. Farewell was definitely more fitting. Yet, after Mindie caught his smile again, the mournful feeling left quickly. Maybe she could learn to like this new lady taking over mind and body head to toe.

  George maneuvered through town, taking all the same turns she’d have made if behind the wheel. Was this man telepathic or something? Hopefully not because he’d wonder why he was naked in her brain. Not knowing what he looked like undressed, she imagined her favorite parts of any guy she’d ever seen. Again with the highlight reel, but with some celebrities she’d only fantasized about. Can we say Charlie Hunnam or Joe Manganiello? Sweet butter between her legs…What the hell was wrong with her normally in-check impulses?

  “When did you start this vineyard?” George actually asked an important business related question.

  “We planted about three years ago, but, we’ve added some different vines since then. We might get enough grapes to make a small batch next season.”

  Nodding, he kept driving, his eyes disclosing the turning wheels behind them. “Not something you want to rush, that’s for sure.”

  “I totally agree.”

  “You have plenty of sources for the grapes you purchase?”

  “Yes, we have some agreements in place.”

  “Anything in writing?”

  What did she think she was? An amateur? “Of course we have some agreements in writing. As long as nature cooperates and they have harvest, we get our entitled share.” Did he get the hint from her tone how irritated his question made her?

  “Struck another nerve…you’ve got lots of exposed ones, you know?” The observation seemed jovial or admiring, as if he was accustomed to the manifestation of living, breathing raw apprehensions. Did he really understand?

  “I’m on top of my emotions.” Simple enough explanation, even for her.

  “I’m glad you admit to having them.”

  They pulled into the locked gate entrance. “We’ve arrived.” George made the announcement as if they entered a new kingdom. “If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll open the gate.”

  The keys? What the fuck? Yeah, Mindie knew right where they were…hanging in the back office back at the tasting room. “Keys would be good here…if I had them.”

  “Seriously?” Laughing loudly, he managed not to mock her, a carefully obtained skill for sure. “You must’ve been distracted.”

  “I was hungry and in need of caffeine. I get a free pass on this one.” He needed to let this go, before she shriveled into a raisin in embarrassment- a human humiliated grape.

  “All’s not lost, we can just climb over.”

  Of course they could, putting her ass into all sorts of suggestive poses. She might love it more than him. Let’s see if he can really back up his innuendos. No, she wasn’t going to take advantage of the possibilities. This was work, and anyone named Stansfield was off limits- except in her fantasies. “Good thing I wore tennis shoes.” And my shorts and not a skirt, she gave mental thanks to the universe.

  Already out of the vehicle, George waited by the entrance gate. A knight beside the drawbridge ready to help his fair lady inside the fortress. Really? Couldn’t she get out of daydream mode? “You can go first, and I’ll haul over.”

  “Oh, no, let me help you.”

  “You don’t have to b
e chivalrous right now. It’s just a gate I’ve shimmied over before.” Shimmy-something about that word aroused images of booby tassels and g-strings. “I’ve got it.” She spoke through clenched teeth. Mindie was sick and tired of her overactive hormones driving her imagination.

  Clearly ignoring her demand, George stood firm, waiting for her. “I want to be here in case you fall.”

  “What if I fall on the other side? You can’t be both places.”

  “I would be if I could.”

  Screw him and his charismatic advances. “You’re smooth, you know that? You’ve probably charmed more clothes off women than Brad Pitt.”

  “He was leading me last I checked, even though he slowed to a full stop after Angelina came into the picture.”

  Ticking his head to the side signaling the gate, George urged her again. “C’mon, up and over.”

  Fuck it, she would do it and clear her mind of any comparison from the iron bars of the gate to a stripper pole. “Fine.”

  “Such a loaded word, fine, rather a puzzle of letters instead.”

  “I’ll make it simple for you, I’m going over the fence now. Does that take the mystery out of it for you?” Before he could answer, Mindie bounded up the horizontal bars placed just shy of a foot apart. Getting to the top, she hurriedly slung one leg over, overshooting the bar. Almost looking like a pole vaulter without the tall launch pole, she flipped awkwardly over the top, thumping to the ground on the other side of the gate.

  “Oh, damn!” Climbing just as quickly, George finessed over the gate perfectly. “Are you okay?”

  Lying on the ground, her mouth moving like a fish out of water, Mindie fought for air. She hadn’t knocked the wind out of her lungs since she was a child. Age didn’t make it hurt any less. Opening and closing, attempting to gulp the invisible life force just outside her lips, she tried to inhale. After a few seconds, she finally succeeded, gasping and groaning. “Dang, that hurt!”