He gives me a look of mock outrage. “Did you just call me assface?”
“Who, me?” I blink in wide-eyed innocence. “I would never.”
He and Greer burst out laughing.
As we approach the Penedès region, the rolling hills grow steeper and greener, covered in vineyards and olive groves.
“God, it’s gorgeous out here.” I drink it all in, stunned by the beauty and splendor of the scenery. “No wonder you loved visiting every summer and winter. I always wished you could take me with you.”
Reyes reaches over and skims his knuckles down my cheek. “Better late than never.”
We share a tender smile.
When Greer makes exaggerated kissing noises, we both laugh and flip him off.
A few minutes later, Reyes turns onto a long road lined with thick pine trees. The pavement winds upward through the hills until we reach the entrance to Bodegas Galindo, marked by ornate wrought iron gates bearing the winery’s distinctive crest.
As we drive through the open gates, I find myself leaning forward excitedly.
Set against the backdrop of the coastal mountain range, the sprawling estate sits on a hill overlooking the green valley. The winery features tasting rooms, a restaurant, a visitor center with a souvenir shop, and lavish gardens surrounded by rows of vines.
“Wow,” I breathe, completely awestruck. “Is this real? It looks just like one of your grandfather’s paintings.”
“It does,” Reyes says smilingly, making a right turn and following a winding drive that leads to the family’s separate private residence—a rambling Spanish colonial mansion with yellow stucco walls, red tile roofs and wrought iron balconies.
“This reminds me of your place,” I say with a warm glance at Reyes. “I’m guessing that’s not a coincidence.”
“It’s not.” He smiles quietly. “Some of my fondest childhood memories happened right here on this land.”
I smile. “I know.”
The long driveway ends in a sweeping circle in front of the mansion. As we pull up to the wide steps leading to the arched front door, two small children spill out, their faces lit up with glee as they race down to the Range Rover.
Reyes cuts the engine and hops out, laughing as the children launch themselves at him. He greets them affectionately by name, scooping the boy and girl into his arms and smacking kisses on their cheeks as their childish laughter rings out.
I watch the three of them, my ovaries exploding.
The twins chatter at Reyes in rapid Catalan, one word tumbling out over another as they beam up at him with big green eyes and winsome smiles.
Grinning conspiratorially, Reyes leans close to whisper something in their ears. With excited squeals, they scramble down and scamper over to the back of the Range Rover to rummage around for their hidden gifts.
Greer and I climb out as two others emerge from the mansion. A beautiful dark-haired woman with her arm draped around the shoulders of a plump teenager with bobbed dark hair.
I recognize them as Reyes’s aunt Blanca and her daughter Abril.
They come forward, beaming radiantly at Reyes.
“Hola, nephew,” the woman greets him with a big hug and kiss. “It’s so good to see you! We were so overjoyed when you called to say you were coming before summer!”
“You know I can’t stay away too long, Tia Blanca. This is my home away from home.” Reyes grins at the dark-eyed girl hovering just behind his aunt. “Hola, Abril.”
She smiles shyly and ducks her head, her round cheeks flushing. She’s wearing a private school uniform consisting of a white polo shirt, a maroon and navy checked skirt, and maroon knee socks.
Her mother gently nudges her forward. “Say hello to your cousin, Abril.”
“Hi,” she mumbles without lifting her eyes.
When Reyes playfully tweaks her nose, she blushes harder.
“She’s still in love with her dreamy American cousin,” an amused voice drawls.
Everyone turns as a tall, ridiculously good-looking young man comes sauntering up the driveway, his piercing green eyes twinkling with mischief.
Reyes laughs. “Get over here, Alejandro.”
Alejandro grins as Reyes hauls him into a backslapping hug, which he returns just as enthusiastically.
Inspired by Reyes, he pursued his dream of playing professional soccer—known as fútbol in this part of the world. He was recruited by FC Barcelona and now, at twenty, he’s one of the top scorers on the team.
I smile as Reyes ruffles Alejandro’s unruly black hair. “Stop teasing your sister.”
“Who’s teasing? She begged to go to school late so she could be here when you arrived.”
“No, I didn’t!” Abril protests in mortified dismay.
“Yes, you did. Didn’t she, Mama?”
“Stop embarrassing your sister,” Blanca chides before her amused gaze shifts to Greer. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you kindly,” he drawls, bowing gallantly and kissing her hand. “It’s a pleasure to be back in the presence of such exquisite beauty.”
Reyes and Alejandro groan as Blanca chuckles indulgently and shakes her head.
“Always a charmer,” she says before turning to clasp my hands in hers, smiling with unreserved warmth. “How wonderful to see you again, Emerson.”
“Same to you,” I say warmly. “You have such a beautiful family. How old are the twins?”
“Four.” Her dark eyes dance. “Joaquim and I thought we were finished having children. God had other plans.”
We exchange big grins before I look at Abril. “You probably don’t remember me. You were only six or seven the last time I saw you.”
“I remember you,” Abril says shyly.
“So do I.” Her brother thrusts his hand forward, a wide grin stretched across his tanned face. “Hola, Emerson.”
“Hey, Alejandro.” I shake his callused palm, taking in his square jaw and muscled forearms. “Look at you. You’re all grown up.”
“Ah, so you noticed,” he says with a wink.
Greer laughs, bumping Alejandro’s shoulder. “Watch it now. That’s your cousin’s woman.”
Alejandro flashes the crooked grin that has graced many a magazine cover, sending women worldwide into a breathless frenzy.
Reyes slings an arm around his aunt’s shoulders and smooches her cheek. “Where’s Àvia?”
“Down at the restaurant. She and Miquel are meeting with the lawyers to discuss our expansion plans.” She smiles at me. “We’re planting a vineyard in Italy next year.”
“Yes, Reyes told me. Congratulations. What an exciting venture.”
She laughs. “Exciting and nerve-racking. There’s so much to do. So much groundwork to lay. But we’ll make it happen. It was Papa’s dream.” She smiles up at Reyes and affectionately pats his chest. “Mama can’t wait to see you. Your phone call made her so happy. She’ll probably cut her meeting short just to rush back home to welcome you.”
Reyes grins as a group of servants emerge from the mansion and call out excited greetings to him. He takes my hand and bounds up the front steps, where he’s enveloped in hugs and kisses and joyous laughter. Though I can’t understand the vibrant exchange of Catalan, it’s abundantly clear to me that Reyes is loved and cherished beyond words.
When he introduces me to the servants, they give me beaming smiles and call me beautiful. Senyora Molina, the household manager, compliments my hair and asks if it’s my natural color. I’m used to the question, so I just grin and say yes.
“I need to drive Abril to school,” Blanca announces, pulling a set of car keys from her Adolfo Domínguez handbag as she walks over and kisses Reyes on the cheek. “Take your guests inside and get settled. I’ll be right back. Fins ara.”
She corrals her rambunctious twins, piling them into the backseat of a white Escalade that was brought around for her. As she drives off, Reyes and Greer retrieve our luggage from the Range Rover, refusing help from the servants.
The men frown with displeasure. Senyora Molina fusses and wrings her hands until Reyes kisses her forehead and says something in Catalan that brings a girlish smile to her face.
Grinning, I follow Reyes and Greer inside the mansion, across a huge marble foyer and up a winding grand staircase. On the second floor, we turn right and make our way down a long corridor lined with paintings in gilded frames.
When we reach Greer’s room, he throws the door open and lets out a satisfied whoop. “Hot damn! It’s good to be back.” He turns and grins at us. “I’m gonna grab some shut-eye and then laze around the pool until dinner. Later, lovebirds.”
Chuckling, Reyes and I continue down the hall until we reach an arched door at the end. “This is my room away from home,” he says, gesturing me inside.
The bedroom is large and beautifully furnished with a vaulted ceiling and plenty of windows. Tall glass doors open onto an Italianate balcony overlooking a courtyard edged with blooming frangipani and orange trees. The walls are cloaked in green ivy and grape vines. Beyond the courtyard, a sweeping expanse of vineyards gives way to the distant blue sea.
I stand at the French doors, soaking in the view as Reyes wheels our luggage into the walk-in closet.
“Should we be sharing a room?” I ask half teasingly. “Given that we’re not married, I don’t want to risk offending your family’s traditional values. They are Catholic.”
“So are we,” Reyes says with a chuckle. “Believe me, they know we’re not abstaining from each other back home. Why start now?”
I grin as he comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist, locking me to him. “You’ve always been such a corrupting influence on me.”
He snorts. “Says the girl who showed up to school one day cosplaying as a dominatrix.”
I laugh. “You remember that?”
“Hell, yeah. I jerked off for two straight weeks afterward. Damn near rubbed all the skin off my dick.”
I howl with laughter, tears running down my face.
Reyes chuckles. “Glad you find that so amusing. Your little stunt could have caused serious damage to this cock you love so much.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I hiccup, wipe my streaming eyes and press my lips together to hold back another fit of laughter.
Reyes nips my earlobe. “Little she-devil.”
I grin and lean back against him, reveling in his strength as I gaze out toward the sea. “What an incredible view.”
He murmurs agreement, nuzzling into my hair.
I sigh and close my eyes, letting contentment wash over me for the first time in what feels like forever. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
His lips curve against my hair. “Thank you for not forcing me to kidnap you.”
“You would’ve kidnapped me?”
“If necessary, yes.”
I laugh and turn in his arms so I can see his face. “It wouldn’t have come to that. Never in a million years.” I lean up on tiptoe and kiss him, our mouths clinging hotly before I pull away with a saucy little smile. “I need to pee. Don’t move.”
He grins, backing away and flopping down on the massive bed with his arms folded behind his head. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
I wink. “Even better.”
His purring growl follows me into a marble bathroom that would exceed the standards of any luxury hotel. I look around in admiration while emptying my full bladder.
Just as I flush the toilet, I hear a woman’s excited voice outside the door. Àvia is here.
I wash my hands and dry them on a monogrammed hand towel. When I step out of the bathroom, I see Reyes’s grandmother practically smothering him in a fierce embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist with her cheek pressed against his chest. He’s laughing warmly and kissing the top of her head as he hugs her back.
She releases him just enough to beam up at him, her hands tenderly cradling his face. “I am so happy to see you, corazón. Just look at you. So tall and handsome!”
He chuckles. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.” She gazes up at him lovingly. “You remind me of your grandfather when he was your age. He turned heads every time he walked into a room. Still did, even in his old age.”
Reyes smiles, his expression softening with fondness. “I remember.”
Àvia turns and sees me approaching. “Ah! There she is!”
I smile shyly. “Hello, Àvia Jimena.”
She hugs me long and hard, bringing tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.
“Dear, sweet Emerson.” She pulls back and clasps my hands in hers. “It is so good to see you after all these years.”
“You, too.” My voice is raspy with emotion. “Thank you for having me.”
“Nonsense. You are always welcome here.” She squeezes my hands. “My Nicolau was so fond of you. You and Reyes were the only ones who listened to his stories. It would please him very much to see you here with our family.”
Her words, and the kindness in her eyes, get me even more choked up. “Thank you,” I whisper huskily.
Despite her advanced age, Jimena Olivares still works in the vineyard every season, pruning and picking grapes alongside her family members and laborers. As a result, her skin is tanned from the sun and her hands are callused. Her gently rounded face bears traces of the stunning beauty she’d been in her youth. Her hips are wider and her hair has turned completely silver, braided into a single thick plait that hangs down her back.
She gives me an admiring once-over and remarks to Reyes, “Ella és molt bonica.”
“Sí,” he murmurs in agreement, gazing at me.
Àvia beams and wraps her arms around both our waists, her dark eyes twinkling at me. “Tell me. Has your Catalan improved much over the years?”
“Una mica,” I say sheepishly. “Just a little.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you speaking fluently by the time you leave. That way you’ll know if this one is saying bad things about you.”
Reyes grins at me over her head. “I never insult you in anything but English.”
I poke my tongue out at him and he laughs.
Àvia divides a delighted grin between us before sighing contentedly. “Well, I must be off. Miquel and I have another meeting, this time with the contractor. I told them to start without me because I had to come home and see you both.” She hugs us close, savoring the moment before she releases us with another sigh and heads for the door. “Relax and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll send up some wine and cheese. Dinner is at eight. Don’t be late.”
Giving us one last smile, she goes out the door and closes it behind her.
Reyes grins at me, then scoops me up and tumbles me down onto the bed. I laugh as he stretches out over me, levering himself up on his forearms as he slowly kisses his way up my neck to my earlobe.
Shivering with pleasure, I slide my hands into his hair and whisper teasingly, “What if someone walks in on us?”
“Nobody’s coming in without knocking first. Now hush and let me enjoy you, woman.” His mouth covers mine, and I melt without further protest.
An hour before dinnertime, reyes takes me on a tour of the mansion.
Spread across three wings, it’s more of a palace with twenty-two bedrooms and eighteen bathrooms, two parlors, two gourmet kitchens, an opulent ballroom, a solarium, a wine cellar, a spa and gym, a massive basement with a movie theater, and a library filled with leatherbound classics translated in Spanish and English.
Throughout the mansion, Avi Nicolau’s beautiful portraits are showcased alongside works by Spanish Renaissance artists. His legacy as a painter is celebrated with as much reverence as his winemaking.
The sprawling property also boasts indoor and outdoor pools, a grass tennis court, a lush garden and cottages for overflow guests.
At the end of the tour, I’m left speechless by the scale and grandeur of the estate. I literally have no words.
Reyes laughs and ta
kes my hand, guiding me to the main parlor where most of the family has gathered for cocktails and canapés.
Our appearance sets off a flurry of excitement as everyone rushes forward to greet us.
Miquel Galindo is the first to reach us. Tall and strikingly handsome with quicksilver-gray eyes, sculpted features and olive skin, he’s Àvia’s youngest child and the company’s general manager.
“Nephew.” He kisses Reyes on both cheeks, holding his head in his hands. “Christmas came early with your arrival.”
“Àvia said the same thing.” Reyes grins from ear to ear. “Good to see you, Uncle. You remember Emerson.”
“Of course.” Miquel shakes my hand, his smile wide and genuine. “Pleasure to see you again, Emerson. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you so much,” I say with an earnest smile.
The crowd encircles us, swallowing us up with hugs and kisses. I’m introduced to so many people, it’s hard to keep track of all their names.
There’s Gael Olivares—Àvia’s widowed older brother. He’s accompanied by his three adult children and their spouses and offspring.
There’s Alba Galindo—Nicolau’s younger sister. She and her husband, Pedro Suárez, have two children, both married with kids.
There’s Joaquim Cebrián—Blanca’s husband and the company’s head of sales. I’ve met him before, but this time I’m struck by the fact that Alejandro is almost an exact replica of him.
The exuberant hugs and greetings are interrupted when Àvia appears in the doorway, her arm tucked through Greer’s.
She looks around the room with a supremely satisfied smile. “It does my heart good to see all of you gathered here tonight. I live for moments such as these. They add longevity to my life.” Her dark eyes twinkle. “Come. Let us sit down and break bread together.”
We follow her and Greer down the hall to a formal dining room that could accommodate a small village. In the center is an enormous table covered with white linen and set with fine china and silverware. Servants stand ready to push in chairs and pour wine.
In deference to Àvia, everyone waits for her to take her place at the head of the table. She gestures for me, Reyes and Greer to sit to her immediate right. Joaquim, Blanca, Alejandro and Abril sit on her other side, directly across from us. The squirming twins plop down at the opposite end with the other giggling children.
Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1) Page 25
