When We Met

by A. L. Jackson

  “Okay, I’ll admit I’m a little surprised. Even I hadn’t ever heard of pairing when it comes to wine. So, where did you get your knowledge?”

  “My parents took me on a tour of wine country in California when I was fourteen. It was supposed to coincide with an important basketball camp, but I broke my hand and couldn’t go. I remember my dad was pissed because most of the best players my age were going to be there. He wanted to cancel, but the trip was already booked, so they dragged me along while I pouted the entire time. I complained bitterly, wondering why we couldn’t go to a theme park instead since we were going to be in California. After a few days, I discovered wine country wasn’t all that bad.”

  “What was her name?” Courtney asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What was the girl’s name who still makes you grin like a goof? No boy would have fond memories of wine country over theme parks if a girl wasn’t involved. Spill it.”

  “Touché. Her name was Honey.”

  Courtney snorted loudly. “Sorry, did you say Honey? Why am I not surprised?”

  “You like busting my balls, don’t you?”

  She smirked. “You’re an easy target. I’m sorry for interrupting. Please tell me about Honey.”

  “Anyway, I met Honey at a bed-and-breakfast we were staying at for a couple days. Her parents owned it. You’ll love this part. She lived up to her name. Her skin was the color of honey, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Being a young lad of fourteen, I definitely appreciated the short shorts she traipsed around the vineyard wearing. They left little to the imagination and within hours of meeting her, I came up with any excuse I could to trail around after her.

  “She was sixteen, and I guess you could say way more experienced than any other girls I knew. Because I was tall for my age, she assumed I was older. Being the bright boy I was, I didn’t bother to correct her. On our second day at her parents’ vineyard, Honey pulled me into one of the dim barns, away from prying eyes. We were just about to round second base when my dad busted us.

  “He had no qualms about throwing me under the humiliation bus by totally blurting out my age, and that I was way too young to be fooling around in some barn. Honey was horrified that she almost got felt up by a fourteen-year-old, and stalked off after informing me I was nothing but a boy. Dad thought the situation was funnier than I did. I remember wishing a pile of wine barrels would fall on me and put me out of my misery.”

  Courtney had started laughing halfway through my story, and was now wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. The great Dalton Thompson strikes out thanks to his daddy. Now, tell me. What is your idea of second base?”

  “You don’t know what second base is?” I shook my head in mock disbelief.

  “I know what I think second base is. I want to hear what your idea is.”

  “Second base is tongue action and northern touches.”

  “Northern touches?”

  “Yeah, you know, copping a boob feel.” I felt my cheeks flushing slightly. Who would ever have thought I’d be embarrassed over talking about feeling a girl up? In my defense, it wasn’t normally a subject that came up with girls.

  “You poor thing. So Daddy busted you before you could actually cup anything?” She smirked, obviously finding humor at my expense.

  “The sad thing is I was right on the verge. The tips of my fingers had just grazed the lace of her bra when he walked in. It’s not funny,” I added as she started laughing again. “Okay, now it’s your turn to tell me something embarrassing that happened to you.”

  “I was perfect and escaped any embarrassing moments unscathed.”

  I could tell she was full of it by the way her mouth twitched. “I don’t believe you. Spill it. I told you mine. Now you tell me yours. Sharing is caring.”

  “Oh boy. It’s getting deep in here. Did you just say sharing is caring?”

  “I did. I can own it. Now stop stalling.”

  chapter nine

  Courtney

  Dalton found my embarrassing tale of how I’d once flashed a lifeguard at a water park one summer very amusing. At least my story killed the rest of the time it took to get to our destination. I recounted how, unbeknownst to me, my chest had been on display for the world to see. I’d just gone down one of those twisty water slides when I splashed hard into the pool of water at the end. Standing at the bottom of the slide, I’d been too busy trying to get the water out of my face while making sure my hair wasn’t a total wreck to worry about the cool breeze on my chest.

  It was only when my friend shrieked my name that I discovered the horrifying truth. The lifeguard was standing not two feet away from me. His eyes were locked on my chest, which was insanely large for my petite fifteen-year-old body. I hit the deck like a sniper had taken me out. Ducking beneath one foot of water, I tried to stuff my goods back into my skimpy top that had seemed so perfect when I picked it out at the mall.

  “So, you’re telling me you didn’t realize both of your . . .” He paused, searching for the politically correct term. “They were hanging completely out?” he asked, pointing to my breasts.

  “Boobs. And no. Not until my friend called my name. I’m not kidding when I tell you at least an entire minute passed while Lifeguard Boy got quite the eyeful.”

  “Lucky guy. I bet you made his whole summer.” Dalton’s eyes drifted to my chest before returning back to the road.

  “It was single-handedly the most mortifying moment of my life.” I couldn’t help joining in his laughter as he pulled into the parking lot of 12 Acres Vineyards. “I never went back, by the way.”

  “Trust me when I say you were probably a pool legend after that. I bet he told every guy he knew. I wish I was there.”

  “You were too busy being a basketball star by then. Hanging out with me was no longer cool.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them and I felt like a total bitch. It didn’t help to keep dragging up our past. He’d already apologized. I needed to let it go. I opened my car door, welcoming the cold blast of frigid air that smacked me in the face, swearing under my breath when I stepped out.

  Dalton rounded the car and placed an arm across my shoulders, tucking me against his side. “I really am sorry.” He pulled me closer as we stood in the parking lot.

  I tilted my face up to look at him. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m a jerk for bringing it up again. We were twelve. I’m embarrassed I allowed it to color my opinion of you for so long.” I ducked my head back down when a new blast of cold air hit me in the face.

  Dalton covered my face with his arm, leading me toward the building, away from the wind. The size difference between us was somewhat awkward for a moment, but somehow we made it work. Surprisingly we fit like two pieces of a puzzle. I burrowed closer against him as we walked, enjoying the closeness. The smell of his cologne and the soap he used encircled my senses.

  Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I’d stopped fighting my attraction to him. It would probably be a mistake. Unintentionally or not, the chances that we would last long term were probably slim. He was destined for stardom, going places outside my comprehension. I would remain here, trying to scrape by until I could finish school and get a job that would support Mom and I.

  Understanding our different destinies didn’t make me pull away, though. Maybe it was the familiarity of being childhood friends or the way we both opened up during the car ride today, but being with him felt comfortable—natural. Whatever the reason, I’d decided he was worth the risk. The fact that I was physically attracted to him was icing on the cake. It was a small reminder of the feelings that had just begun to spring up when we were twelve. Of course, the attraction now was a far cry from the preteen attraction I had felt for him then. My desires now were very much in the adult capacity.

  The warmth inside the building was soothing after walking from the car outside. I felt mildly disappointed when Dalton dropped his arm from my shoulders, until he reach
ed for my hand. As we strolled along, I became hyperaware of how something as innocent as handholding could become somewhat erotic while sipping wine together. Dalton slid his thumb across the top of my hand in slow methodical strokes before gently caressing my pulse point. The hairs on the back of my neck felt as if they were standing on end. Each sweep of his thumb was a sensual dance with my sensitive skin, making it tingle.

  It was becoming apparent to me that it might have been a bad call on my part to skip lunch. Between the scent of Dalton’s cologne and the alcohol I was consuming, I was already feeling slightly intoxicated. I nibbled on a few cubes of cheese to attempt to alleviate the buzzing in my head. Dalton’s breath teased my neck, making me shiver in a good way. I should have put some distance between us so I could regain my bearings, but instead I snuggled closer to him, wishing we were somewhere else with a lot fewer people around.

  All the air escaped my lungs as Dalton slowly captured a bead of wine from my bottom lip with his finger. I watched with bated breath as he moved the finger to his own mouth, sucking the drop of wine. It was all I could do not to moan as my insides turned to putty.

  “You need to stop looking at me like that,” Dalton murmured in my ear.

  “Like what?” I licked the rest of the wine off my lip with the tip of my tongue.

  This time it was Dalton who groaned softly. Placing his hands on my hips, he slowly backed me into a dim corner, away from prying eyes. “Like you’re thinking how great it would feel if I hoisted you up on that wine barrel table over there with your legs wrapped around my waist.”

  “Are you sure that’s not you thinking that?” My hips responded almost instinctively as he pulled me snugly against his body. I could feel him, rock hard, pressed to my stomach. The wanting desire I had been keeping at bay from the moment he showed up at my house looking practically delectable with low-riding jeans and a black V-neck sweater that accentuated his well-toned chest was threatening to explode.

  “Bet your ass it’s what I’m thinking.” His hands cupped my butt, pulling me close, just as his lips crushed down on mine.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me after that. I would like to blame the wine and Dalton’s tormenting caresses. One moment my feet were planted on the floor, and the next I was scaling his body like some damned horny monkey climbing a tree. Maybe it was his soft lips, or his large hands that were more than willing to get me where I wanted to be.

  There was nothing tentative about our first kiss. It was hot and consuming like a forest fire. His tongue took control of my mouth like he owned it. My own tongue responded boldly as the heady taste of the wine he’d consumed teased my taste buds. Dalton’s hands held me in place as I moved against him. I was close to the point of no return when the sound of a clearing throat behind us finally broke through my wine-induced sexual intoxication. Heat crept up my neck as Dalton slowly lowered me back to the floor and turned toward the manager, who looked less than pleased.

  I had tunnel vision as the manager escorted us on a walk of shame out the front door. The cold air sobered me up quickly. Neither Dalton nor I said anything as we walked to his car, but I was quite sure my face was as red as a tomato. Dalton was still a gentleman, holding the car door open and then closing it once I was seated. I looked out the window so I wouldn’t have to see his face as he climbed in and adjusted his seat belt. My actions were completely mortifying. To say I had behaved like a dog in heat would have been putting it mildly. Sex-starved prisoner would have been more accurate. I had totally made Dalton my prison bitch.

  An unexpected bubble of laughter rose up my throat even though I was still embarrassed. I tried to clamp it down, but it escaped nevertheless. Dalton joined me in laughing. At least we could both appreciate the humor of the situation. It took several minutes to get it out of our systems. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and my stomach ached from laughing so hard.

  “So, I guess we can never go back there,” I finally choked out.

  “I would think not, but hey, they got a good show.”

  “You’re not embarrassed or mortified like I am?”

  “Embarrassed? Are you kidding? Erotic—yes. Mortifying—no.”

  His words heated me from the inside out. Erotic. The word was heavy with meaning. “Come on. You weren’t even the slightest bit embarrassed when the manager escorted us out?”

  “Hell to the no. I just wish we would have been in a less conspicuous place, because I’m interested in how far it would have gone if we hadn’t been interrupted.” He winked at me, making me blush again. There it was, hanging out there like a golden carrot. Did he know how close I had been to the big O? Only the fact that he had called the experience erotic saved him from getting a sock in the arm.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t normally act like that on a first date.”

  “Technically this is our second date. I was expecting to get to second base tonight.”

  “Oh Lord. I’d say we came pretty damned close in there.”

  “A few seconds more and it would have been a home run,” he teased. Little did he know how close to the truth his words were.

  “Didn’t you say your mom taught you to be a gentleman? A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  “That was a whole lot more than kissing, sweet stuff,” he murmured, resting his hand on mine. “If it helps, I was just as into it as you.”

  “That does help a little.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Definitely. Maybe if I’d eaten before I drank a gallon of wine, I wouldn’t have tried to devour you.”

  “So you’re telling me if I want to round more bases I shouldn’t feed you?” he teased, merging into the far right lane toward the highway exit. No more than a couple miles up the road, he pulled into the parking lot of a popular Italian restaurant.

  “Are you allowed to talk about baseball so much when you’re a basketball player?”

  “Good question. I can count on you to keep my secret, right?” He closed his door and walked around the front of the car to hold my door open. I had to admit, I was already getting used to that routine. He pulled me up from the seat so I was facing him with his long arms bracketing me on either side.

  “Hmm, I don’t know. That’s an awfully big secret to keep. What do I get?” My eyes moved to his lips. Here we were in yet another public place and all I could think about was jumping on him again. He must have had the same thoughts since he lowered his mouth to mine. This time the kiss was probably what our first attempt should have been. It was tender and sweet and slow. So slow I thought I would melt into a puddle at his feet.

  After a moment, he pulled away. “Are you sure you’re hungry?”

  “Yes. No.” My words were a jumbled mess. “Wait, doesn’t food fuel the brain? I think I might need that. I’m still feeling a little bit tipsy from the wine.”

  “Are you sure it’s the wine you’re feeling?”

  “Nope. Not at all,” I answered as he put his arm around me and led me toward the restaurant.

  The innuendos and sexual tension that still radiated between us made dinner a very pleasant experience. Our conversation flowed easily as we exchanged first date bios. We caught up on things we had missed out on while we weren’t friends. A lot of what he said I already knew since I had basically watched him from afar over the years. I almost regretted admitting that juicy tidbit considering how thrilled he looked.

  Eventually the conversation moved to our classes. We each had professors who were particularly difficult.

  I was happy to hear that Dalton didn’t have classes like Intro to Basket Weaving. I’d heard that the school went easy on student athletes where academics were concerned. But Dalton definitely took his classes seriously and was smart. He was majoring in business, because he thought it would help him later in life after basketball ended or if, God forbid, it didn’t work out for him. He was definitely realistic about the future. Not that it dimmed his aspirations.

  I was no different except for ou
r goals. He had NBA dreams, while I wanted to secure a position in a museum where I could pore over art all day. One of Dalton’s admirable qualities was that he wasn’t afraid of hard work, especially if it got him to where he wanted to be.

  Our conversation turned playful when we started talking about animals. We both preferred dogs to cats. I confessed that my feelings weren’t based on actual experience, since I’d never owned my own pet. Dalton had a tough time wrapping his brain around that one.

  “So you never got a pet? Not even a gerbil or a goldfish?”

  “Nope. Not even a stray cat. You remember the apartment complex Mom and I lived in. They always had a ‘no pets’ policy.”

  “That’s right. I do remember that. That sucks. My parents gave me Riley for Christmas the year I turned fifteen. It was instant love. Right after our dog, Gretchen, died. Do you remember her?”

  I nodded. I did remember Gretchen. She was the closest I ever came to having a pet of my own.

  “She was a great dog, but Riley’s special.”

  “Like runs-into-the-walls-and-tries-to-eat-his-own-tail special?” I teased.

  “He has been known to chase his own tail, but that doesn’t mean he’s not wicked smart. Take his fixation with my mom’s shoes and no one else’s for example. We all feel he blames her for sending me away to college.” He pulled his phone out to show me a picture of a beautiful golden retriever gnawing on a woman’s pump.

  “Maybe he just likes the taste of the leather of her shoes better. You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

  He tapped his chin for a moment, thinking. “Got it. Riley can play basketball.”

  “Hmm, resorting to fibbing now?” I asked after he paid the check and helped me into my jacket.

  “No, seriously. He’s a good shot.”

  We left the warmth of the restaurant behind, moving quickly to his car.

  I shook my head, climbing into the vehicle. “You’re such a goofball.”