“My goodness. You really have done your homework.” She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “And you worked at Rivard?”
I shifted uncomfortably. I’d known it was coming and had rehearsed how to handle it, but it was still embarrassing. “Yes, for about a month. I really enjoyed the job, and I learned a lot there, but Mrs. Rivard had a problem with my performance on a reality television show, which painted me as a bit of a villain.” Please, please don’t have watched the show.
“Seriously?” She blinked. “What show?”
I screwed up my face and cringed. “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).”
Mia burst out laughing and clapped her hands together once. “Oh my God, that’s funny. Wow.” Giggling, she tucked one leg beneath her and winked at me. “So did you? Ride a cowboy?”
“No.” I shook my head. “The only thing I rode was a mechanical bull, and I only lasted seven seconds.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. The entire experience was pretty embarrassing, and I’d like to forget all about it. I asked Mrs. Rivard if I could list her as a reference, and she said I could. I don’t believe she had any issues with my work there—it was simply a matter of my persona on the show not gelling with her vision of a good employee.” I took my resume from my bag and handed it to her. “Her contact information is here, if you’d like it.”
“Thank you.” She studied the resume a moment. “Ah, you were a Cherry Queen.”
I sighed, feeling like I should come clean. “Yes, I was, but they asked me not to advertise it. I put it on the resume because it’s something I’m proud of, but after the show aired, they effectively dethroned me for bad behavior.”
“Really?” Her eyes went wide. “What the heck did you do on that show?”
“I just wasn’t myself,” I said. “I acted a certain way because the producers wanted ratings, and they figured I’d get more attention if I played devious and mean.”
“Did it work?”
I shrugged. “For a little while. But it sure backfired on my life. I shouldn’t have done it, but…live and learn. On to better things.”
She nodded. “I agree. We all make mistakes.”
“There you are.” The deep voice came from the far end of the room, and I looked over to see a ridiculously attractive man walking toward us. I think my jaw hung open a moment before I remembered to close it.
Mia looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes, I decided to sit in here. I didn’t feel like climbing those stairs again and it’s so pretty this morning.”
He reached the back of the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You OK?”
“Yes.” She patted his hand and gestured to me. “This is Skylar Nixon, the friend of Sebastian Pryce. Skylar, this is my husband, Lucas.”
I stood and he reached over Mia’s head to shake my hand. He had dark eyes and hair, worn a little long and shaggy, and a fantastic smile. Christ, what did their children look like? “Very nice to meet you,” I said. “You have a beautiful place here.”
“Our little Provence.” He glanced at Mia. “My family has a vineyard there and we tried to create some of that magic here.”
“Oh, I bet she knows all about that.” Mia’s eyes twinkled. “She’s done her research.”
“Oh?” Lucas looked at me.
“Yes.” I smiled. “I know the location, I know you grew mostly grenache, and I know you got married there.”
“See?” Mia glanced up at her husband and pointed at me. “This is what I need. Someone who looks like this and has the brains to come prepared to an interview.”
“Thank you.” I rocked forward onto my toes, I was so happy.
“Sounds like this is going well, then. I’ll leave you to it. Skylar, very nice to meet you, and you”—he leaned down to kiss her, the back of his hand in her hair—“take it easy.”
“I will.” She reached up and touched his scruffy cheek, and something inside me twisted a little. They had such an easy way about them, you could just tell how close they were, how much they loved each other. I wondered about how they met, and decided if I got the job and we became friendly enough, I’d ask. Lucas waved at me once more before heading out the glass doors.
“Well,” Mia said, getting to her feet. “I suppose I should call your references, but unless I discover you robbed Rivard blind, I’d love to give this a try. The job involves assisting me in various capacities—from running tours to planning events to manning the tasting room to helping with marketing and PR. I’m very hands-on and I’ll train you for that stuff myself, but you’ll have to get some wine training from Lucas and the winemakers here.”
“Sounds great.”
“It pays hourly to start, eighteen an hour, but after three months we can revisit that number and even consider salary. I’ll call your references this week and confirm with you after I’ve spoken to them.” She made a face. “Not that I’m looking forward to speaking with that old bat Miranda Rivard, but I’ll do it.”
I laughed. “Thank you.”
She walked me outside, waving hello to someone watering the flower beds. “How soon could you start?”
“I’m working for my sister right now, but she said she could find someone to replace me within a week.”
“So Monday?” Mia asked hopefully. “Sorry to rush, I just want you to be as comfortable as possible before I have this baby, which is in the fall.”
“No problem,” I assured her. “Monday would be fine.”
“Great.” She held out her hand, and I took it. “So nice to meet you, Skylar. I’m glad Sebastian sent you my way. I have a feeling this is going to work out great.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
• • •
Later that night, Mia Fournier called and told me the job was mine if I wanted it. She said Miranda Rivard had praised my work ethic, performance, and attitude, and even admitted to feeling some regret at having let me go. When Mia heard that, she decided to snap me up right away, and asked if I could come in on Friday to fill out paperwork.
I was at Natalie’s when I got the call, and she and I both squealed and jumped up and down once I hung up. The next day, a sign went in the window at Coffee Darling looking for help, and by Friday evening, she’d already hired a college student who was home for the summer.
Sebastian was thrilled for me, and took me out for dinner at Mission Table the next night to celebrate. When he showed up at my parents’ front door, he presented me with a congratulatory bouquet of honey sticks tied together with a bright pink ribbon. I threw my arms around him and he lifted me right off my feet, laughing in my hair. If he’d have let go, I swear I’d have floated right into the sky.
At dinner that night, I laid out my summer plans, and he listened attentively. “I’m going to bust my butt to prove my worth there, and hopefully negotiate a raise after three months. At that point, I think I’ll have enough saved, and a good enough income, to afford a nice apartment and maybe buy or lease a car. The other thing I was thinking of is offering to rent a guest house from my mother come fall when the tourist season is over. Then I could continue to save and maybe buy something next year.”
“Sounds good.”
Suddenly I realized I was doing all the talking. I eyed him carefully. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. What’s up?”
He offered me a slight smile. “Nothing. I had a rough day, I guess. But it’s making me feel better to see how happy you are. I’m glad you got the job.”
“Yes. Thank you so much. It’s because of you, you know.”
He dismissed that idea with a wave of his hand. “Nah.”
“It is! I’m so grateful. And I’m planning to show you how grateful later on.” I swirled my tongue around the scallop on the end of my fork suggestively.
“In that case, I’ll take the credit.”
I smiled, smug and happy. “Good.”
Every day that summer, she was the
first thing I thought about in the morning, and the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep, whether she was beside me or not. And as the weeks went by, I wanted her beside me more and more. I missed her when she wasn’t there—her smile, her laugh, her smell, her voice, her kiss, her touch.
I began working full time for my father’s firm in June, and I was doing well. The workload was manageable, challenging enough to be interesting but not overwhelming; I went to the gym most mornings before work and felt physically as good or better than I had in years; and I kept my weekly appointments with Ken, sometimes going in for a last-minute lunch appointment if I felt like the voice was causing my confidence in myself, my work, or my relationship to falter.
Emotionally, I felt more stable than I’d ever felt. The obsessive thoughts weren’t getting in the way of being close to Skylar, and she had this way of getting me to open up without being pushy. She was so honest about herself, so accepting of me, that I found myself talking to her about things I’d never shared with anyone—my favorite childhood memories of my mother, my love for poetry, especially about nature, and how I sometimes envied my brothers their happy marriages and families, even though I’d never been sure about having one of my own. One hot August night I told her how it was more an envy of their faith in themselves—the way they were able to make a decision like getting married or having kids without all the constant second guessing.
“I know what you mean,” she’d said, sucking on a honey stick. I kept a supply of them at my house now. We were lying at opposite ends of the hammock, our bodies tucked alongside each other’s. “Those forever things are scary to me too.”
I chuckled. “Forever things?”
“Yeah. Marriage, family. I mean, I like the idea of a family but I’m not sure I’d be a very good mother. Natalie’s positive she wants kids, and I think Jillian does too—but whenever I think about it, it seems like something so far off in the future. Forever things are what real grownups do.” She laughed softly. “I’m not one of those yet. Maybe after I get a car I’ll feel more grown up.”
We were quiet for a minute, and I put my hands behind my head, hoping to sound casual. “What about marriage? Do you ever think about that?” To my surprise, I’d been thinking about it a little bit lately, imagining what it would be like to be married to her, contrasting the peaceful life we’d have here with the frantic, noisy one I’d almost committed to in New York. How had I ever thought that would be right for me?
“All girls think about that at some point.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m no exception. What about you?”
“Nah,” I lied. She hadn’t exactly jumped at the idea, so I figured I’d better not sound too enthusiastic. Maybe she was thinking of us as a just-for-now thing until the real thing came along? The notion crushed me, not that I blamed her. She could do so much better. “I’d be a terrible husband.”
She took the honey stick from her mouth and pointed it at me. “I was totally gonna tell you that. I mean, you can’t cook, your house is filthy, and your dick is just meh.”
I lunged for her and she screeched, jumping off the hammock and making me chase her onto the dock, where I threw her over my shoulder and carried her back into the cabin. She laughed and squealed, beating against my back in a futile effort to escape my arms. “I take it back, I take it back. I meant to say your dick is mehgnificent.”
“Too late, angel. You ran from me. You know what that means.” In the living room, I tossed her onto the couch, where she grinned up at me, breathless.
“But you don’t have rope.”
“No,” I said, unbuckling my belt and sliding it off. “But this will do.”
Her jaw dropped. “It will?”
“Uh huh. Stand up.”
Poor little angel. I think her legs might have actually trembled as she stood naked at the end of the couch while I bound her ankles and bent her forward over the arm.
Mine did. They trembled with lust as I slid my fingers inside her pussy and then inside her mouth, listening to her suck them. They trembled with awe when I fisted one hand in her hair and teased her tight little ass with the tip of my cock, astonished at the way she let me desecrate her. They trembled with euphoria when I fucked her up against the wall, one hand rubbing her clit as she came and cried out my name over and over again.
My god, I love her, I thought as I flooded her body, my vision clouding at the edges. I’m so in love with her I can’t see. She’s fucking perfect.
Actually my entire life was pretty fucking close to perfect. I’d never been happier.
And I’d never been less sure that I could hold onto it.
“Come on,” I said, pouting. “Look at the sheet. Did I get it right?”
It was late August, and we were sitting on a blanket on the dock with a bottle of Abelard Pinot Gris, and Sebastian was supposed to be quizzing me on the tasting specs. Recently, Mia and Lucas had asked if I’d be interested in repping their wines in the Midwest, meeting up with distributors, shop merchants, and sommeliers since Mia would be too busy with three kids to travel. I loved the idea, but knew I had a lot to learn about the wines at Abelard and the industry in general before I took on that role.
“Yes, you got it right.” Sebastian set his glass and the binder aside. “But school is over for the day.”
“I have to learn this by the weekend,” I whined. “You said you’d help.”
“I know.” He took my glass out of my hand and set it next to the candle lanterns we had burning. “And I am. I’m going to help you relax.”
“Oh?” I leaned back on my hands, legs stretched out toward him. The mischievous glint in his eyes made my insides flip.
The summer was flying by in a happy whirlwind of work, wine, and great sex…definitely the best summer of my life so far. I loved the job at Abelard, I loved working for the Fourniers, and I grew more confident each day that I was doing a good job. Mia was an exacting boss, but fair and helpful and so organized I was in total awe. If I made a mistake or a miscommunication, she was understanding, and she was quick to praise when I did things right or took the initiative on something. She definitely had her own ideas about the way things should be done, but after we got to know each other a little better, she wanted to hear my ideas too, and encouraged me to be brave about voicing my opinions.
I functioned as both her personal assistant and assistant tasting room manager, and many of the ideas I’d had for Rivard were welcomed at Abelard. Lucas had loved the idea about creating a YouTube channel for informal videos about their wines, and he’d thought I’d be a natural in front of the camera. Together with his chief winemaker, a French import named Gabriel Allard, Lucas and I outlined the video series to coordinate with events Mia had planned throughout the summer. I stayed late many evenings learning about the wines, and I took home a ton of additional reading about the grapes and the soil and the winemaking process. Many nights I fell asleep with books resting on my chest or my laptop still open beside me.
Often I was in Sebastian’s bed.
We saw each other three or four nights a week, and on my days off, which were always during the week, Sebastian would try to come home early and we’d go hiking in the park or swimming off his dock or take the boat out on the water. When I’d worry aloud that I was encroaching on the solitude he’d claimed to crave when we first met, he’d hush me with a kiss or put his hand over my mouth, and once he just picked me up off the boat bottom and tossed me into the water.
He’d slowly opened up to me about his past, both his difficult childhood and the last ten years. I tried hard not to pry, but ate up every word he said, every memory he shared. Gradually his moods made more sense to me, and I’d learned when I could ask another question about something, when I could make a joke, and when I should just shut up and kiss him or hug him or better yet, do nothing but listen in silence. I became accustomed to his quiet moods, the occasional flare of his temper, and his infernal reticence about his feelings, and in turn, he endured my occasional
insecurities about work, my eight million beauty products in his bathroom, and my ceaseless chatter about varietals, vintages, acidity, fruit, minerality and terroir—although he did tell me if I mentioned “floral notes” to him once more, he was going to ban me from drinking wine in his presence.
“Yes. Relaxing is very important for wine tasting.” He circled my ankles with his fingers and spread them apart before lying on his stomach between my legs. Then he moved up so his head was beneath my skirt. “Lift up your hips.”
Grinning, I did as he asked and let him slide my panties off, then I gasped when he pushed my thighs further apart and swept his tongue up my slit.
“Mmmmm.” He did it again, lingering at the top. “Absofuckinglutely delightful on the palate.”
I burst out laughing, dropping back to my elbows and bending my knees. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” He flicked and swirled and savored. “My God, this vintage is magnificent. Light and refreshing with a fabulous fruit profile and balanced acidity.”
“Oh Jesus.” I clapped my hands over my mouth, laying all the way back, laughing and moaning with delight at the same time.
He sucked my clit into his mouth and nibbled on it, making my legs tingle all the way to my toes, which curled into the blanket. “Mmm, yes. An incomparable flavor and exquisite aroma. Full-bodied and delicious.” Two fingers slid easily inside me.
“I thought you said it was light,” I breathed, widening my legs even more, my hands seeking his head.
“It’s everything I like. Do I even need to mention its elegant floral notes? And the lingering finish, well…it’s indescribable,” he teased as he fingered me deep and slow and my body arched off the dock. When he put his mouth back on me, I came so hard I yelled way too loud, my voice echoing off the water. I covered my mouth again, but Sebastian just laughed, licking up the lingering finish until there wasn’t a drop left.
“Oh Jesus, I’m so loud,” I whispered, embarrassed. “What if someone heard?”
Some Sort of Happy Page 20
