Nick couldn’t help himself; he laughed. There she was, at the absolute lowest point he’d ever seen her, slouching over a glass of wine in a dark cellar, getting drunk at noon, and he loved her so much he thought he might die from it right there on the spot.
He got up, took the wineglass out of her hand, and set it on the barrel.
“I think you’ve figured out enough,” he said.
Dana gave him a confused look. “Wait. I haven’t gotten to the part about panty hose versus no panty hose.”
He took both her hands in his and pulled her up to standing.
“And I have to figure out how I feel about trade with China. What are you doing?”
He smiled, cupped her face in his hands.
“What do you think?” he said softly, his eyes searching hers in the candlelight. “I’m shutting you up.”
Then he lowered his face down to hers and kissed her with every thing he had.
Twenty-three
Wine on his tongue. His hands in her hair. Spicy, warm, heavenly. Dana felt her entire body relax against his, followed by a buildup of energy and heat radiating from her abdomen that made her knees buckle a bit. She pulled back and looked up at him, at his beautiful eyes, half-closed and simmering, at his mouth, soft and slightly open, his breath rushing forward over his lips, mingling with hers. Her heart did a gymnastic flip, and she smiled at him.
“If you think that’s gonna shut me up, you’ve got another thing—”
She stopped as his lips found hers again, more insistent this time. His tongue slid over hers as he pushed her back against the wall. Good thing. She was about five seconds away from falling over.
He tugged at her T-shirt, pulling it slowly out of her jeans. His hand slid flat and warm against her stomach, his fingers reaching down into her jeans, undoing the top button.
“So,” she exhaled, “I guess the timing is good now?”
“To hell with the timing,” he said, and suckled on the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
Oh. God. Yeah. That.
She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, under his jacket, pushing it down his arms to the floor, savoring the feeling of him under her fingers. When his hands returned to her, they circled her waist and lifted her, pressing her against the wall, their hips aligned as she wrapped her legs around him. She dove into his kisses, his mouth hot on hers, spicy with wine.
She slowly lowered her legs and slid down his body. She undid the top button of his jeans and was going for the zipper when one of his hands grabbed hers, the other lifting her chin to look in his eyes.
“Unless you think the timing is bad,” he said.
“Oh, God, shut up.” She reached up and pulled him down to her in a kiss, her other hand working his zipper as his hands made quick work of removing her jeans and panties. He bent down to guide her feet out of them, then slowly moved back up, pressing her against the wall as he kissed his way up her thighs, stopping for a short exploration before moving up to her stomach. She clutched at the wall, grateful for the support. Her knees were all but useless. He straightened up, lifting her again, pressing her against the wall, settling her on top of him as she curved her legs around him.
Oh. God. Yes.
Dana closed her eyes, waiting for him to go inside, to push it all away, to make her feel what only he could make her feel, but he suddenly went still, the only sound, only movement, coming from the staccato puffs of their breathing.
Dana opened her eyes. Her face was level with Nick’s, mere inches away. Her hands were clutched at the back of his neck, her body arching, aching for him. She could tell by the strength of him underneath her that he wasn’t pausing for lack of interest. She looked at him, her eyes darting over his.
“What…?” She barely got the word out. He shook his head, put one finger to her lips. She groaned. He shifted under her, lightly, and her body flamed up, beyond her control. But then, he stopped again. She clutched her hands behind his neck and looked in his eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking.
“Oh,” she said. “Still on the pill. Recent checkup. Ready for takeoff.”
He chuckled. “Good to know. But that’s not…”
She touched his face. “Then what?”
“Do you want the winery?”
“What?” He shifted again and she rode a quick wave, then opened her eyes and looked at him again. “This really isn’t the time. I can’t think.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m asking you now.”
He moved his hips and slid under her, just about to enter her, when he paused.
“Oh, God,” she breathed, “please remind me to kill you later.”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I think you know what I want, you rat,” she said.
“Just tell me—”
“I want the winery,” she said. “I love this place, and losing it will break my heart.”
He smiled down at her. “Well, there you go.”
He took her mouth, suddenly, pushing all her thoughts away. She felt herself flowing into him, no difference between where she ended and he began. He pushed into her, filling her, driving her. She clutched at him with one hand, the other clinging to the wall as he moved with her, wave after wave, building up the heat and intensity until they both were screaming in it, shuddering together, as one, his face on her shoulder, her hair flying from her neck in time with the rhythm of his breathing. He nipped at her shoulder playfully, then pulled back, smiling at her. “You’re a rat,” she said.
“I’m a rat that loves you,” he said.
She smiled. “Really? You really do?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course. Idiot.”
“Well, I couldn’t be sure until you said it, but now you’ve said it, and I have to admit I like the way it—”
“Marry me.”
She froze. Did he just…?
“Yes,” he said, answering her thought. “I just asked you to marry me.”
“Nick…” She sighed. “It’s kind of a hard question to answer when you’re still…”
She glanced downward. His fingertips dug tighter into her hips, and he lifted her up off him and settled her down on her feet.
“Guess I should have asked you when I asked about the winery,” Nick said as he pulled up his jeans.
She pulled on her underwear and turned to face him. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, setting himself down on one of the barstools. “I know that. But… I don’t understand you. We love each other.”
“Yes. We do.” She stepped into her jeans. “Why does that have to equal marriage?”
“Because it does,” he said. “Because I don’t want to go through it all over again. Because I need to know you’re gonna see this through.”
“Jesus, Nick. We’ve been back together for ten minutes.”
“We’ve known each other for seventeen years, Dana.”
“I know,” she said, her voice hitting a high pitch as she tried to figure out her argument. “It’s just that this, being back together, is sudden and we should take some time—”
“I don’t need time,” he said.
“Well, I do.”
He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “I know I’m rushing things and I know this isn’t fair and damnit, Dana, I just don’t care. I can’t do it again.”
“What? What we just did? Give it twenty minutes.”
“No,” he said, his face serious. “Lose you.”
Dana closed her eyes. Oh, God. She did not want to go there now. Why now? Things were good there for a nanosecond.
She opened her eyes to see him still watching her. Guess it has to be now.
“Marriage is no guarantee against things falling apart, Nick,” she said. “Hell, look at my parents.”
“We’re not your parents,” he said.
“This is like the worst déjà vu of my life.”
“Just an
swer me. Are you gonna marry me or not?”
“Are you going to listen to me? Marriage—”
“Freaks you out,” he said. He put his hands on her arms and lowered his face toward hers. “I know. But I’m not asking you about marriage in general. I’m asking you about marriage to me. It comes down to trust, whether or not you believe that I’ll be there for you. If you don’t, I think I should know now.”
Dana slumped in his grip. “Nick…”
“I’m not going through it again, Dana,” he said, releasing his hold on her and straightening up. “I can’t.”
Dana’s heart sank to her feet. “So this is what? An ultimatum?”
He met her eye. “Guess so.”
She felt her entire life crash into her chest until she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes filled with tears, and she knew what she was going to need to get out of there fast before she fell apart into a huge puddle of sobbing stupidity.
“Then no,” she said. “If you have to have an answer right this moment, the answer is no.”
She started to walk away, but he caught her arm. She swallowed hard against the knot in her throat and stared straight ahead.
“I don’t want to see you leave,” she said as the tears fell down her cheeks. “Just give me enough time to get to the house before you go. I think it’s the least you can do.”
She wrenched her arm from his grip and moved out of the cellar as fast as her wooden legs would carry her.
Twenty-four
Finn drummed his fingers on the surface of the table. His eyes went to the clock on the wall, to the bird, then to the keys to the van lying on the table next to the cage.
He drummed his fingers harder, then stood up.
“See, here’s the thing, Horshack,” he said, then stopped and eyed the bird. “Mind if I call you Horshack? No offense. It’s the beak. The resemblance is uncanny.”
The bird cocked its head to the side. Finn shrugged, started pacing.
“Horshack it is, then. My question for you is this: What kind of idiots leave a valuable parrot and keys to a van in the care of a known bird thief? Huh?”
He raised questioning eyebrows at the bird. Horshack looked away from him and nipped at the bars on its cage.
“Don’t avoid the question,” Finn said. “You know I’m right. I mean, I think I made it perfectly clear to both of them that I’m completely untrustworthy. Haven’t I?”
He leaned against the table, his back to the bird, his eyes on the kitchen counter where Nick’s cell phone sat.
“He chased her out, leaving me to mind the store, knowing I’ve got a buyer downstate just waiting. What the hell did he think was gonna happen?”
Silence. Finn glanced over his shoulder at the bird, which watched him for a moment in silence. He turned around, eyes landing back on the cell phone.
“Take it from me, Horshack. In this life, there’s only one person who’s gonna get your back, and that’s you. I know that. Everybody knows that. And if I don’t do this now, I’ll be working birds into my sixties. For what? A misplaced sense of loyalty to people I’ve known less than a day? People who knocked me out and duct-taped me to a chair?” He shook his head, exhaled. “That’d just be stupid.”
He walked over to the window, pushed the curtain aside, let his eyes wander down the long gravel trail leading from the winery to the cabin. There was no sign of either Dana or Nick.
“Loyalties are for idiots and martyrs,” he said. “You stop to help anyone but yourself, all you get for your trouble is a solid ass kicking.”
He glanced at the bird, then looked back out the window one more time before letting the curtain fall back again. “Really. It’s a proven fact. I believe Nietzsche said it first.”
Finn exhaled. This was it. Time to make a choice.
But there was no choice. There was only one thing to do, and he was going to do it. He walked over to the counter and picked up the phone, then dialed a pager number and punched in a code indicating the time and place the deal would go down. He flipped the phone shut, tucked it in his pocket, and swiped the keys off the table.
“Time to move, Horshack,” he said, grabbing the handle to the cage. “And let this be a lesson to you not to trust people you don’t know.”
***
Dana reached for the knob in the gift shop, then hesitated and looked over her shoulder.
Good God, she’d done it again.
She’d run. Again. From Nick, the one thing in her life she’d ever been sure of. What the hell was she thinking?
She thunked her head against the doorframe, then headed toward the cellar door, stopping in the middle of the room.
Wait. Think about this. If you tell him you’re going to marry him, you have to do it.
She closed her eyes, visualized the dress, visualized saying “I do,” visualized the honeymoon, visualized more really hot wall sex. All good.
Then she visualized the divorce lawyers, the crying children, the angry messages she’d have to leave on Nick’s lonely bachelor answering machine demanding alimony payments and child support.
Her chest constricted, and she felt her heart crack.
It just wasn’t fair. Why was he demanding this of her now? Couldn’t he at least wait a few weeks, a few months, a year? He knew how she felt about marriage. She’d told him.
But she’d never really explained. Never made him listen. She’d always gotten angry and run out of the room. And there she was, doing it again. She knew she wanted to be with him forever, to wake up next to him every day. He’d asked her to separate marriage to him from marriage in general. She stood still for a moment and thought about it.
Did she trust him to hang on even when things weren’t great? If she became a drunk like her father, did she believe that Nick would abandon her? She knew the chances of that happening were slim; she paid careful attention to what she drank, but still. She could slide into something equally awful. No one knew what was going to happen, how life would change them.
So. Fine. If she became cruel, or distant, or thoughtless, would Nick leave her out there on her own, or would he reach down into the pit and drag her out?
Her vision blurred and her throat clamped up as she realized the answer.
He would drag her out. Even if he had to do it with her kicking and screaming and lighting him all the way, he would drag her out. And she would do the same for him Maybe the secret to being married was choosing someone who loved you enough to kick your ass when you needed it.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the platform for a self-help book, but it was good enough for her. She drew in a deep breath and took another step toward the cellar door, stopping when she heard the door to the shop open behind her.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” she said, turning on her heel, expecting to see some wandering wine tasters. Instead, she saw Babs, some blond woman Dana’d never seen before, and Scary Bald Guy behind them.
Holding a gun.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Dana began.
“Dana,” Babs said, her eyes dark. “I was so hoping you wouldn’t be here.”
Scary Bald Guy’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “I know you.”
Dana backed up a step. “No, you don’t. I have one of those faces—”
“You were in the bar. With a man. It was you,” he said, obviously putting it together. “Where’s your bloke?”
Dana crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. Day hire. I imagine he’s in the city.”
Scary Bald Guy smiled and turned the gun on Dana. “I want my bird back.”
Dana looked to the blonde standing next to Babs. “Vivian, I presume?”
Vivian nodded. “And this is Simon. He’d really like the bird back. I think you should give it to him.”
Dana looked at Babs. “I really don’t like her.”
Babs raised one hand. “Preaching to the choir, darling.”
***
In the cellar, Nick poured himself another glass of the Merlot.
“Christ,” he said, downing a long swallow.
He had no idea what had come over him. He’d known marriage freaked Dana out, and what the hell was wrong with living in a little sin? The greater good—that he and Dana would be together—would be served, and if she ever got over the fear of marriage, at least he’d be there when it happened.
Something had clicked in him, though, when they were up against the wall. Some deep fear of finding himself back in New York, working that wine bar, living without her. He’d just wanted a promise that it wouldn’t happen again, that she wouldn’t run from him.
So he drove her away.
“Great move, Einstein,” he muttered, finishing off the glass. He glanced up at the stairs. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find her, take it ail back. Sure he wanted to marry her, but he wanted to be with her more, and if it meant waiting, he’d wait. Maybe if he told her that he could make up for being an idiot.
Maybe.
He reached for the wine and took a swig directly from the bottle.
***
“Okay, Simon,” Dana said, turning her attention from Vivian to Scary Bald Guy. “Let’s go get your stupid bird.”
Simon raised his eyebrows at Babs. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? She had it the whole time.”
Babs glared at him. “Shut up, Simon.”
He moved the gun closer to Babs’s head and looked at Dana. “I want that bird, and I want it—”
“Agh!” Dana grunted in frustration. Simon looked at her, surprise on his face. “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t give a rat’s ass about that stupid bird. I hate the shit of it. I hate the way it smells. I hate the way it sounds like a ten-car pileup when it’s pissed off. I hate the way its beady little eyes follow you around the room as it plots your untimely demise. I want you to have it. Far as I’m concerned, you can’t take it fast enough. So if you’re done taunting my mother, can we just go and get the stupid thing?”
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