Wild Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

I tilt my head at Nate. I don’t know if they’re reflective of the green felt of the pool table, but right now, his eyes are so piercing and mesmerizing. I swear, he can see right through me.

  “Why was he worthy of a second date?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to answer but close it for fear that I’ll say something wrong.

  Why Brent? Because he’s emotionally available. Because he has the perfect career and a full head of hair and loves cats and classical music and is lukewarm to sports.

  And, most importantly, because the man I really want to be interested in me is with someone else.

  “He checks all the boxes.” My voice is low.

  Nate’s chest rises with a deep breath. His eyes are stone cold and scorching hot all at once. He is so far away, yet I can feel his exhale on my skin.

  With his eyes still on mine, Nate takes a step back from the table. “He has a lot of money. He can take care of you.”

  I nod my head. “Yes.”

  Nate takes a few steps, slow and steady, toward the corner of the table in my direction. His eyes curve in question, yet their focus never leaves mine. “He was married. Probably ready to settle down again. Start a family.”

  I nod again.

  Even closer, he places his pool stick on the table. I have no idea what his mission is, but it’s making my palms sweat and my breathing erratic.

  “Did he tell you that you’re beautiful?”

  My breath hitches, and I nod my head again. Nate is now just a few inches from me. His gaze is hard and stern on mine.

  “He’s an idiot. He should have told you that you’re fucking gorgeous.” His words are hypnotic, but the tone he delivers them in is rough, raw.

  “That wasn’t a requirement. I don’t need a man to tell me I’m pretty.”

  “I know what your boxes are. He is the perfect guy for you. That’s why I have to know…”

  Nate’s chest is now flush with mine, his forehead bowing down to meet mine, and I lose all air from my lungs.

  “Why are you here with me and not with him?”

  I swallow hard. “Because he’s not you.”

  No sooner are the words out of my mouth than Nate’s lips are on mine. Warm and strong, they meld into me, and I can’t close my eyes for fear that I’m mistaking what is happening. His hands rise to grip my face, and his kiss sinks deeper. The pads of his fingers press firmly into my hair, possessive. I close my eyes and give in to his kiss, so mesmerized by the moment that I can’t even think coherently enough to ask questions. Our mouths part, and when his tongue slides into mine, the warmth entering me is like heaven. Fingers and hands are gripping and pulling as he claims me with a visceral groan. My arm falls to the side, dropping my pool stick.

  Nate grabs me by the waist and lifts me onto the pool table. His kiss is intoxicating. I’m overwhelmed as he takes my body in his hands and delves deeper, searching for something. I don’t know what it is, but I let him. Our kisses are hard and fast, like we’re making up for lost time, yet there’s no time lost at all. We’ve only just begun, and it is glorious.

  He sucks on my bottom lip and then moves to my neck, licking and sucking along the tender skin. I moan, which causes him to groan, and I don’t know what’s sexier—his lips on my skin or that sound coming from his mouth. I wrap my legs around him and use my hands to explore the skin under his shirt. A low growl vibrates against my neck, and I shiver. His body is firm and strong, contoured in the most perfect way.

  Nate’s hands slide up the sides of my shirt, his fingers lingering dangerously close to my bra strap. He continues exploring my neck, jawline, and my mouth with his lips. I’m breathing so heavily that I can barely speak. And when his groin lines up perfectly with mine, my breath hitches as I quiver right down to the core. I’m throbbing with need, so much so that I clench my thighs around him.

  I don’t care that we’re in a public place. I don’t care that someone could walk in at any moment. I want Nate, and I want him right now.

  My hands trail down his torso and stop at the top of his belt buckle, causing him to inhale through his teeth. His hands rise to the sides of my face, and his kisses turn frantic. His mouth and hands are on a mission, now traveling over my breasts.

  Nate is in a daze, and I am fighting to keep up with his rhythm. His lips are back on mine. It’s causing me to lose focus—not on the world, but on him. I break the kiss, and his mouth finds my skin again and starts moving down my neck to my collarbone.

  I take the moment to catch my breath and use what oxygen I do have to speak, “Does this mean you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

  Nate’s mouth stops mid kiss. His lips on my shoulder, his breath heated on my skin.

  The passion is lost from his body.

  His back is stiff, and his hips between my legs are like stone.

  Nate backs away from me with such force that the hold my legs had around them is broken, and he backs up until he hits the wall behind him. His eyes are so wide, almost frightened.

  He falls down the wall, his body almost hitting the floor. He’s in a squatting position. Hands on his head, he looks down and shakes his head profusely.

  He’s scolding himself.

  “Fuck!” he shouts as he slams the wall behind him with his fist.

  I slide off the pool table. My right arm wraps around my stomach, and my left covers my chest, my fingers brushing against the skin of my neck where his lips just were. I’m trying to control my breathing, steadying my heart, but my body is so full of angst that I can’t restrain the nerves running through me.

  What just happened?

  My only guess is that I said the wrong thing—or quite possibly the right thing, stopping something that shouldn’t have been happening.

  “You need to leave,” he says.

  All I can see is the top of his hat.

  “Nate, I—”

  “I said, leave!” His head shoots up with the demand.

  When it does, I see his eyes are red-rimmed and on the verge of tears. He is more exposed and vulnerable than any man I have ever seen.

  I take a step forward, but he puts his hand up to block me.

  “Please,” he pleads with gritted teeth. “Get out.”

  The pressure is building behind my eyes, but I won’t let him see me cry. Instead, I grab my bag from the bar and haul my ass out of Henley’s, leaving my heart on the poolroom floor.

  chapter THIRTEEN

  Brent has called me twice since our date. I know I should go out with him again, but it feels weird. I made out with another guy after our date. It feels dirty and wrong.

  Naomi thinks I’m an idiot. An idiot for not making out with Brent. An idiot for making out with Nate. An idiot for not going after Nate just because he has a girlfriend. An idiot for not going after Brent since Nate has a girlfriend and clearly isn’t interested in me. With every day that passes, she has a new opinion on the matter.

  To be honest, so do I.

  Brent is perfect.

  Nate is not.

  Brent wants me.

  Nate does not.

  Brent is an open book. He’s Googleable.

  Nate doesn’t even have Facebook.

  I hardly think about Brent.

  All I can do is think about Nate.

  I’m going to go out with Brent again.

  To get my head on straight, I have been working nonstop at Russet Ranch.

  I borrowed Jeremy’s truck to bring the chandelier here, and Jeremy helped me hang it. I set the bar up with the new glassware and decorative items, placed the new pillows on the couch, and cut roses and placed them in a vase on a console table near the door. The room still looked unfinished.

  I brought a bottle of Ellie Creek home, and Naomi and I drank it while we mapped out the design I had in my head. Another trip to the paint store and another day of Ed gone all day, Naomi painted a spectacular wall-to-wall mural behind the bar.

  I moved the painting of Ellie to the wall above the console table by
the entrance, a vase of her mother’s roses in front. Maybe when she finally comes and visits, she’ll be honored with such a beautiful placement of her portrait instead of being in the back corner.

  When I was cleaning out the stock room, I found photo albums of the vineyard from the early 1900s, showing women crushing grapes with their bare feet and churning by hand and men hand-picking in the field along with horse-drawn wagons collecting the bushels. I brought the albums to a framing shop in St. Helena and had thirty of them framed and matted.

  It’s safe to say I am very close to spending the entire five thousand dollars.

  That’s probably because I threw out the metal folding chairs and went to the vintage shop where I found ten wooden folding chairs and had them painted. And, when I was snooping around the garage, I found an old farmhouse table, loaded that in the pickup, and brought it to a restoration specialist. Then, I bought supplies to sand and paint the pergola, and I bought vines to grow and train around the wooden beams. Since the pergola looked incredible, I had to clean up the floors, so I had someone come in and polish the veranda. And then I bought native plants and put them in the planters around the veranda.

  And, now, I am standing on a ladder on the veranda, hanging string lights around the pergola.

  Ed has been gone the last few days. I’m used to him being gone for a day at a time but not this long. Here I am, breaking my ass, cleaning up his winery, while he’s off doing whatever it is he does.

  He said once that he was visiting his daughter in San Francisco. Spoiled brat. Doesn’t even have the decency to come up and help her old man when his livelihood is falling apart. I’m all for families getting together. But three days? And on someone who doesn’t come see you? This is ridiculous.

  And I just got a splinter. Damn it.

  With so much going on inside my head, I’m grateful to have the ranch to put my frustrations into. As long as it doesn’t take its frustrations out on me.

  Freaking splinter.

  And freaking Nate.

  See? I can’t stop thinking about him.

  “What’s got you all wound up?”

  I look down at Ed from the ladder I’m standing on. He’s just walked onto the veranda, and he looks exactly as he did when I last saw him. The man doesn’t vary much in the wardrobe department.

  “Where have you been?” My voice is clipped. My finger goes in my mouth, teeth clenching at the small piece of wood lodged under the skin.

  “What business is it to you?” He’s wearing a newsboy cap, and it looks ridiculous.

  My teeth biting into my skin, I bite back at him, “What if something happened to you? I’d have no way of getting in touch with you. What if you were hurt and no one knew you were missing?”

  He crinkles his mouth, as if considering my questions. “If you were so worried, why didn’t you call the cops?”

  I knit my brows together, not liking his question. “Because I was happier to have you gone. It allowed me time to get some things done around here and surprise you.”

  Ed grumbles, “If you wanted me gone, then why are you mad?”

  “A call would have been nice,” I bark. “And, now, I have a damn splinter.” I go back to wrapping the lights around the wood beams of the pergola, keeping my injured finger pointed up.

  He shakes his head and walks away. I curse under my breath at the rudeness.

  Gone for days, and then you don’t even stay to see all the work I did? What an ungrateful—

  “All right, let’s see that finger of yours.” Ed is back under the ladder, a pair of tweezers in his hand.

  Where he got them, I have no idea. I lower my finger toward him, and he takes his reading glasses out from his chest pocket.

  He tilts his head back to properly evaluate the injury through his lenses. “Oh. Oh my.”

  “What is it?”

  “We might have to amputate,” he says with a straight face.

  Then, he goes to work, pinching my skin. I brush a stray curl away from my face and glare at him. And I smile, just a little.

  I let out a breath through my lips, making a loud vibrating sound.

  “For the record, I knew you were fine. You’re too stubborn to die. Ouch!”

  He plucks the offending piece of pergola out of my skin, and when I look down at him, he’s got a smug little grin on his face.

  He places the tweezers and his glasses in his chest pocket. Then, he hands me a new set of string lights that were sitting on the table. I take the lights from him and attach them to the lights I already hung.

  “Where were you anyway?”

  Without answering, Ed walks over to the table I just had restored. Using his good leg, he lifts himself onto a chair with his cane and maneuvers his other leg to climb on top of the table.

  “Are you crazy?” I start to move down the ladder to help him.

  “I’m fine. Like you just said, I’m too stubborn to die.” He thinks he’s being funny.

  I push my shoulders and try to act indifferent. “I wasn’t worried about you. I just had that table redone, is all.”

  I move the ladder to a new position, so Ed and I can finish hanging the lights.

  Ed laughs off my comment, and with his free hand, he wraps the lights around the wood beam. We work in silence for a while. Having the help makes the project go faster.

  The sun is just starting to set, the evening breeze making an amateur appearance. It’s quiet, and it’s nice. Turns out I really like having Ed around when I do my projects.

  Ed lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders falling and his mouth pouting out in thought. “I was visiting my daughter.”

  I nod and continue working. “Does she ever come home to see the ranch?”

  Ed takes a pause, as if trying to decide on the right answer. “No. Ellie’s not well. Hasn’t been for a while now. I do what I can, going to visit her. Took me a while to accept, but she will never be my Ellie again. She’s just not there anymore. She used to have light in her eyes. That’s gone.”

  My hands stop working for a moment. Of all the things I pictured Ellie as, I did not assume she was troubled. Spoiled, ungrateful, problematic? Sure. Troubled was not in my list of adjectives.

  “I’m sure you’re doing everything you can,” I answer sympathetically.

  We remain in silence as I come to the end of the rope lights.

  I climb down the ladder and then help Ed down from the table. It’s more difficult getting him down than it was for him to climb up. I’ve been working all day. The sun is in its final stage of descent in the distance, which makes it a perfect time to see my masterpiece. I plug in the lights, and the pergola illuminates. Every inch is covered in white lights. It feels like heaven among the red sea of roses.

  Ed takes a look around, and his eyes roam from one spot to the next, taking in the small projects I’ve accomplished while he’s been gone. The veranda is complete, polished and shiny, sparkling from the lights, vibrant from the planted flowers.

  Ed places a hand to his chest and inhales. If I’m not mistaken, the old man’s eyes are a little misty.

  Ed takes a breath through his nose. His mouth is pinched closed. He nods a few times to himself before turning to me. “You did good, kid.”

  “Have you been inside yet?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, so I take his hand and give him nudge.

  “Come on, I have more to show you.”

  We walk through the back door, and I flick on the lights. Oh, yeah, I added track lighting to the ceiling. It’s quite possible I’ve spent every penny. But I don’t care.

  Ed stands up straight, the straightest I’ve ever seen him, as he takes in the new room. He looks at the space, taking in the new elements, but when he spots the grand surprise, his body leans further onto his cane, and his hand rises to his heart.

  He’s seen the white walls already, but what is catching his eye this second is the mural behind the bar.

  A peacock.

  With a noble body and long
, graceful neck, the bird has its feathers of iridescent blue-and-green plumage fanned out with pride. A reawakening. A new life. Golds, purples, and magentas grace the painting, creating a visual so magnificent and eye-catching that I believe my sweet Ed is grumble-less and grunt-less.

  He walks forward, taking in every inch of Naomi’s masterpiece, and for a moment, I am worried he might not like it.

  Ed turns to face me, and my concerns vanish.

  Tears fill his tired eyes, and for the first time, they look joyous. “I think it’s time we opened our doors.”

  Believe it or not, his comment causes me to have tears in my eyes as well.

  Turns out, Ed has quite the brotherhood of friends. The following day, Ed hosts a potluck at the ranch for his friends—a long overdue tradition. The men get together once a week, usually at a bar, but tonight, for the first time in years, Ed wants to host.

  Five men, all with rather descriptive names, walk through the door, arms filled with food and booze. Handsome Harry brought fish tacos. Dan the Band Man comes with a cooler to make vegetable pizzas on the grill and a guitar slung around his back. Outback Aussie, with his wrangler hat, brings the steak while Hearty Henner and Mountain Mark wheel in the bourbon.

  I was instructed to bring my cello.

  The six men are hysterical, taking every moment to rib each other. They cook the food together on the veranda and tell stories about the good old days.

  Outback Aussie is from Australia and recalls the day he met Mountain Mark and Big Ed. The two were up in the mountains, trying to steal a root from another vineyard. They were young and dumb and quite drunk. Aussie was in the area, wrangling alpacas that had roamed onto the vineyard. He caught the two men red-handed.

  Instead of running back to his owner about the thieves in the vines, he turned to Big Ed and asked, “You got any more?”

  The three men got sloshed together in the vineyard and woke up the next morning to a shotgun aimed at the them before the vineyard owner kicked them off his property. Outback Aussie was out of a job, so he worked at Russet Ranch for Old Man Russet for a few years. Now, he runs an alpaca farm in the hills.

  They tell stories of Ellie running through the vines, eating the grapes, even when they were sour, and recalling all the trouble she got into as a teenager. They tell stories of Rosemary and how Hearty Henner was in love with her. You’d assume Ed would be upset at this, but he always knew and understood his friend’s affliction.