by Emma Tharp
Why am I even worrying about this? It's not like it's an issue. Only…maybe it is.
How can we possibly keep this up? There’s no way we could. He’s in Vermont living his life, and I’m in New York living mine. I have to stop with these thoughts and enjoy every moment I have with Dean. It goes by too quick.
We pull up to the winery, and he walks around to help me out of the car. Damn, it is nice. And so is he.
"Wine time," he murmurs before he presses his lips to mine. I can't imagine finding anything here more intoxicating than his kiss.
Eight
Dean
“Can you taste black cherry in this one?” Giselle asks, swirling the glass around.
“Not really, but I like it.” I swallow the rest of the sample, attempting to detect any type of fruit. Still nothing.
“Give this one a try,” the winery employee says as she pours a different, slightly darker red wine into my glass. “This one will taste spicier with a peppery note at the end.” She pours some into Giselle’s glass and accidentally bumps the edge, spilling the purple wine down the front of Giselle’s floral sundress. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry!” Her face reddens to almost the color of the wine.
“It’s okay. No problem,” Giselle says. “Could I borrow a cloth?”
The embarrassed employee douses a cloth napkin with club soda and hands it to Giselle.
She is calm as she tries to blot out the stain. “See, you can barely see it. No big deal.”
I’m impressed with how graciously Giselle is handling the incident. I’m not big on fashion, but you can clearly see the stain on her dress. It doesn’t appear to be fading.
“Can I try a sample of the Syrah, please?” Giselle asks, as she sets the cloth on the counter.
“Are you sure that I can’t do anything else for you?” the employee stammers, her hand shaking as she pours Giselle more wine.
“Nope, I’m fine.” Giselle, seemingly unfazed, gives the woman a kind smile and tastes the wine. “This one is great. Could you add a bottle to my case?”
“Yes. Of course.” She wanders off in search of a bottle.
I lay a kiss on top of Giselle’s head. “You sure you’re okay?”
She smiles up at me and lays a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m wonderful.”
Yes, you are.
Giselle has the palette and the understanding of all the different flavors and notes in each type of wine. Me, I go for what tastes good. She settles on a single mixed case to bring home. I grab one bottle. I want to have something to remember this by.
It's day two with Giselle and I'm doubting everything, my plan for how this will end most of all. In my mind, in my dream, I would leave with her. We’d go somewhere and start our lives forever together. I grin, still wanting that. Somehow, I have to make her see that this is what she needs and wants, too. How hard can it be?
"Which one do you like?" Giselle holds up two different types of wine glasses in the winery gift shop.
"How about the one without the stem? Seems like there's less of a chance of accidentally spilling the wine in one of these."
"You're right. I'm going to get a set of these." She sets down the larger, fancier glass with a stem and takes a box of the stemless type to the register.
Moments like these give me hope, when she asks my opinion and actually takes it.
When she's cashed out, we walk outside and take a seat in the café area. It's gorgeous out here with a view of the vineyard to our left and the lake straight ahead. It's becoming a hot day, but there's a light breeze coming off the water that's keeping it comfortable.
"The salad with vinaigrette dressing sounds great. And what about a couple of light appetizers?" Giselle suggests, looking at the menu.
"I would love to try the cheese and olive plate, and maybe the bruschetta," I suggest.
"Perfect."
When the waitress stops by, we order wine and food. I take Giselle's hand in mine and we sit back and enjoy being together and relaxing until we get our lunch. It’s easy to imagine Giselle and me together all the time. She’s easy to be around and we always have a good time together—and don’t even get me started on the chemistry between us. I know we could make a real relationship work. I almost say something to that effect when our waitress stops by. It’s a sign. Maybe I’ll wait a little longer.
“I appreciate how you handled getting wine spilled all over your dress today,” I tell Giselle.
She waves her hand. “What good would it do to make a big deal out of it? The poor girl felt bad enough.”
“You’re right, but someone else might have been a hard-ass to her. You were gracious about it.” I stare down at the outline of the red stain.
“There are enough real problems in life to get worked up over. This?” She gestures to her dress. “Is not one of them.”
Leaning in, I kiss her. I love seeing different sides of this woman. I know that the clothes she wears aren’t cheap and I’ve dated women who get carried away about trivial little things. It’s refreshing to see how Giselle handled herself.
The cheese and olives arrive first. I pop a black one in my mouth and I'm in heaven. It has a nice spicy bite. The red wine Giselle ordered tastes great with it. "Next year, Italy," I say. I mean it, too. It’s on my bucket list. I have no idea how I'm going to be able to afford it, but there has to be a way because exploring Italy with Giselle is now my next big goal.
"Oh, really?" she says, her voice carrying a tinge of doubt.
I don't blame her. In fact, I should feel defeated, but I'm not. This just means I have to prove myself, and I live for that shit.
Pulling her onto my lap, I lift her hand and lay a kiss on the back. "You wait and see."
She gives me a coy smile before taking a sip of her wine. Then she looks at me with those dark eyes over the edge of the glass. "Okay, Italy sounds fantastic. I've been around northern Italy, but I'd love to check out the Amalfi coast."
"Then that's where we'll go." The Amalfi coast sounds expensive. I'm really going to have to get creative this year to save enough money for the trip. It can be done. Especially once I put my mind to it.
“Unless you’d like to go to Rome or Venice. I’d go anywhere. Italy is fabulous.” She winks at me and squeezes my hand.
“You tell me. I’ll let you be my guide,” I say.
We finish our lunch and make our way back to the lake house. Her car is fun to drive—it has so much horsepower. And it’s a comfortable ride, much different than my pickup. I take the long way back to the cottage with the windows down and the radio playing.
“Let’s change into our bathing suits and go for a swim,” I suggest when we get back.
Giselle comes up to me and twines her hands around my neck. “Sure, and we can bring a picnic basket with us to enjoy a nice dinner out on the lake in the boat.”
“Great idea. I’ll change and get the boat ready to go.”
“And I’ll prep a few snacks for dinner.” She presses a gentle kiss on my lips before going to the refrigerator.
I make my way upstairs with a giddy feeling in my heart. We’re so in sync, like an old married couple. And I have to admit, even though I know she has probably choreographed this trip to the minute, I'm loving every bit of it. After my ski accident, I realized I loved her. And I’m not sure how I am going to tell her, but the timing has to be perfect. It has to be later in the week. She's never going to believe me this soon. She needs to think it was a conclusion I reached after days together. And I can't tell her during sex because she’ll think it was the event and not the actual emotions. I’m going to have to wait for a moment when it’s random and all the more believable.
Once outside, I go out the length of the dock and get in the boat. It only takes a minute to get my bearings. Giving it a quick visual, everything looks clean and ready to go with a full tank of gas. I check that the shifter is in neutral and the throttle is in correct position. Starting the engine, it purrs to life. I love that sound. One l
ast check for oil pressure, volts, and engine temperature. We are good to go.
I go back out onto the dock and see Giselle is walking toward me, sexy as hell with her bikini on and picnic basket in hand.
"I guess the real question is, do you know how to drive this thing?" she asks.
Nodding, I untie the ropes from the dock. "I sure do." It's been a couple of years since I've driven a boat, but it's like riding a bike. I don't personally own a boat, but I have a few friends who do. I take Giselle’s hand and help her on board. "We had a small fishing boat growing up. My dad taught me how to drive it when I was twelve. I have great memories of going out first thing in the morning when the sun came up. Dad and I would get a dozen doughnuts and eat them all throughout the morning. I even caught a giant bass one year. Dad had it mounted and it’s still in his man cave.”
Giselle’s eyes widen as she gets comfortable in the back seat. “Impressive.”
“Do you get to go boating much?”
She scrunches her eyes. I know this look. It’s when she’s going into her head. Like she has to think out her response. “I have. But not enough. Boating is so relaxing.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it. We can use the boat as much as you'd like while we’re here.” I start backing out. Once clear of the dock, I pull forward and keep the speed low in the no wake zone. There are tons of boats out, and it’s a beautiful day with barely any waves.
I love watching the breeze blow through Giselle's hair as she leans her head back on the seat and closes her eyes. I know this woman barely ever gets a chance to relax. It's good to see her this way.
We have a nice spin around the lake before we head back inland and I find a spot to anchor, eat, and watch the sunset.
Giselle opens the picnic basket and pours us each a glass of wine from a bottle she bought at the vineyard and I bring out the fruit, meat, and cheese.
“What’d you think of the ride?” I ask, popping a piece of swiss in my mouth.
“It was so peaceful. Exactly what I needed. Thank you.” She lays a gentle kiss on my lips. "You have to try the fruit dip that I made." She runs a raspberry through it and brings it to my lips.
"Wow, this is good." I have no idea what's in it, but it has a nice creamy texture.
“It's made with ice wine and cream cheese. I'm glad you like it." She has a sweet smile on her face. Clearly proud that she made something I like.
I lean in and whisper in her ear. "I'd like to drizzle this all over your body and lick it off."
Her eyes dart around the busy lake where there are tons of boats all watching the sunset like us. Her shoulders seem to tense. "What are you waiting for?"
It's obvious the prospect of having sex on the boat now intimidates her. And that wouldn't be fun. I want her to feel safe, not concerned that others will be watching us. "I'd rather take you back to the lake house." I kiss her cheek, her jaw, and her neck.
"Then you better get driving," Giselle nearly pants.
Without another thought, I pull up the anchor and start the engine.
Nine
Giselle
Waking up, I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. The first rays of morning sun peek through the curtains and I can’t help but smile. Every day has been cloudless and bright this week. Dean, handsome even while he sleeps, breathes steadily next to me.
He never ceases to amaze me. And his talented tongue had me begging for more last night. No wonder I was half exhausted and turned in early. I mean, we didn't plan it that way, but we spent hours on foreplay, and by the time we reached the main event, I could hardly stand it. My adrenaline had run out. No one can maintain that kind of intensity for long, but he helped me last longer than expected. And when we were done and I was panting, I cuddled up against his side, the natural reaction for two people who are so comfortable together.
Now, it's ridiculously early in the morning, but I'm rested.
Part of me wants to stay here in bed with him, relaxing, but the rest of me remembers that this goes completely against my nature.
This is my one week off and I'm not going to waste a minute of it.
I secure my robe around my waist and wander to the kitchen. I’d like to make Dean a big breakfast this morning and we don't have any morning plans.
Today, I hope we go out to lunch and then maybe some shopping. A lazy day, because I bought us concert tickets for tonight. I am so excited to see live music with Dean. It's like I had to cram a year of living into a week. It's a challenge, but one I gladly accept.
I’m standing at the stove cooking bacon when all of a sudden, my heart is in my throat, hammering away when Dean comes up behind me and wraps his arm around me. With my earbuds in, shaking my hips, I didn’t hear him coming up behind me. “You scared me,” I say.
“I’m sorry. You're the perfect woman," he announces as he grabs a slice of bacon from the plate.
I grin. "Thanks." I want him to think that. I really do. I'd like our time together to be perfect for us both, and I think it is. We can have a ton of fun together, some seriously mind-blowing sex, and make loads of memories doing a variety of outings.
For one week a year, I leave behind all the stress of my day to day and move into this wonderful, relaxing, completely Zen state. Then, I can return to my life, renewed and refreshed.
"What's the plan for today?” He kisses the back of my neck.
I finish scrambling our eggs so they won’t burn, even though his kisses have my entire body tingling. "Maybe a little shopping and tonight we are going to see Mumford and Sons at SPAC," I say, my voice getting as loud and excited as a schoolgirl talking about the prom.
Dean lifts me up and spins me around. He sets me back on my feet with his teal eyes sparkling. "I love Mumford and Sons. That's going to be the best!"
Internally, I’m doing a victory dance. I had no idea he would be so thrilled. I knew he loved the band, but I guess I didn't realize how much. "You're going to love Saratoga Performing Arts Center as well. It's a great concert venue. I saw Dave Matthews Band play there years ago. It was amazing."
"I wasn't kidding earlier. You really are the perfect woman." He gives me a wink before filling his mug with coffee.
We eat our breakfast and shower before we leave for downtown Saratoga Springs. Our day is spent shopping while holding hands in one of the cutest, most quaint towns I’ve ever been to. We visit a few clothing stores, a bookstore, and finally a café with outdoor seating, for a late lunch.
People-watching in Saratoga is something Dean and I both enjoy. There are people of all ages and backgrounds. Hipsters, people in jeans and T-shirts looking as if they’re ready to go to the concert tonight, mixed in with folks dressed like they are straight out of the J.Crew catalog ready to hit the horse races. It's the perfect day, but we're both ready to make our way to SPAC for our concert.
It’s only a couple of miles down the road and the traffic isn’t bad yet. Pulling into the venue’s VIP parking area, we find a spot and make our way in. The Saratoga Performing Arts Center is situated in the middle of a gorgeous state park. There are tall pine trees lining the street and a golf course on the opposite side. We’re ushered through the lines to get in and our tickets are scanned.
"I'm so excited!” I shriek. "It's been years since I've been to a concert."
"We're going to have the best time." Dean throws his arm around me and we make our way to the area with food and drinks. We order hamburgers and beer and head down to our seats.
The energy is electric and the concert hasn't even started yet. My heart starts pumping. It’s almost like walking into the courtroom for the reading of the final verdict when I know I fought as hard as I could and I’m sure I’m going to win the case.
"The seats are great," Dean says with wide eyes.
I did splurge a little on the tickets, but Dean doesn't need to know that. He feels bad enough when I pay for things. And when I’m on vacation, I like to go all out. "I was on the ticket website the day the tickets were rel
eased. I guess I got lucky."
"We both did. Thank you." Dean raises his eyebrows and gives my thigh a squeeze. I'm not sure if he realizes how fortunate I am and how lucky I feel that we get to spend this time together. One of my flaws is that I’m not always the best when it comes to expressing my emotions. I'm going to have to do a better job of showing him.
We’re carrying our second beers to our seats when the lights dim and the band comes out on the stage. The venue fills with cheers and screaming.
When the band plays the first few notes of a popular song, I set my beer down and start clapping along with thousands of other people. I love the way that I can feel the music beating in my heart.
"I love this song!” Dean yells over the crowd.
"Me, too!"
"Thank you, baby." Dean takes my hand and spins me around.
We dance to some old familiar songs and some new ones I've never heard. Turning to look behind me as the sun goes down, every seat is full and it looks like a sea of people dancing and singing along. I’m on cloud nine from the energy all around me. I wish I could bottle this up and use it later on when I’m back at work, living my day-to-day life.
The concert ends too soon, but we walk out to the car completely invigorated.
"I love the feeling after a concert," I tell Dean as I open the door. "It's like being high, but not having to take a drug."
"I know what you mean. I had the best time tonight." Dean turns on the car, pulls out of our spot, and we make our way out of the venue. The VIP parking pass was worth every penny. We get back to the lake house in record time.
"I'm never going to be able to sleep now. I'm too ramped up," I say, walking into the kitchen. I open the bottle of wine we started today and pour two glasses. "Let's go out to the dock and look at the sky."
