Tangled Vines Page 8

  I watch on dreamily as Owen scribbles a few notes into a notebook on his makeshift desk. “What are you working on?” My voice pulls him out of his work.

  After popping a quick kiss to my cheek, he pulls me onto his lap. “A new pinot noir Peter and I have been working on. The grapes were perfect for it and now we’re just working out some of the details.” Reading over his shoulder is like looking at gibberish. Actually making the wine is something I never really got into. That was Vincent and Peter’s job. I learned all the internal organization. Now that Owen’s here, I couldn’t be happier knowing that the lifeblood of this company is in his hands. He’s become passionate and creative in his new venture, promising nothing but a bright future for our company.

  “Can I get you a glass?” he offers after he closes his notebook.

  Tipping my cup to him, I shoot him a look. “Like you have to ask?”

  “So I spoke with Nick earlier,” he mentions casually as I twirl the stem of my empty glass between my fingers.

  “And?” I prompt, gesturing with my hands as excitedly as I can. He knows I’ve been waiting on pins and needles to see if we’ve cleared inspection and now he’s dangling it in front of me like some proverbial carrot.

  “We’re all good, love. You knew we would be.” His words settle the bundle of nerves that have been in my stomach all day. Watching him uncork and pour two large glasses of wine also help abate some of the nervousness.

  “Cheers!” We clink our glasses together and drink, knowing that we can go ahead and start booking parties for the end of the upcoming summer. In a mere six months, we’ll be hosting our first wedding. All of a sudden, a new knot of nerves bunches where the previous one had been.

  Owen feels me tense in his lap and he rubs his hand over my back. “Relax, Elle,” he coos into my ear before turning my face to meet his. “Remember when this whole thing started?” I nod at his question, seeing exactly where his line of reasoning is going to go. “You thought you couldn’t land an investor. You thought I would walk away. You thought there was no way in hell we could make us work. And yet here we are.” His broad smile eases away any lasting concerns I may have had.

  Nuzzling into his shoulder, I relax against him. “You’re right, babe. With you, anything seems possible.”

  “Anything?” he arches a seductive eyebrow. “You up for a round of cellar sex?”

  Slapping him on the chest, I gasp, “Owen Christopher Carmichael, you make it sound like some kind of hardcore BDSM thing when you call it cellar sex.”

  He purrs against my neck. “Hmmm….I wouldn’t mind tying you up.” Despite my protests from moments ago, the thought of him holding me hostage down here sends shivers across my skin. “See, I knew you secretly liked the idea.” His husky laughter sends a new round of goose bumps skittering everywhere.

  “As much as I’d love to, we can’t. Your mother– ” his blank stare cuts my sentence short.

  “Way to throw ice on it, sweetheart,” he jokes.

  Standing from his lap, he adjusts himself behind his pants. “We need to be at Romano’s in a half hour to meet your mom for dinner. Or did you forget it’s her birthday?”

  His movements take on a sudden hurried rush. “Uh, no. Of course I didn’t,” he offers a lame-ass excuse, clearly indicating that he had in fact forgotten his own mother’s birthday.

  Lacing our hands together, I pull him away from his work. “It’s okay. That’s why you have me,” I quip as we leave the cellar together.

  By the time we make it to the restaurant, Owen’s mom is already there. She stands to greet us, tapping the face on her watch as she does. “Sorry, Mom,” he says as he leans in for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she laughs him off, moving to his side to greet me. “Elle, you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Carmichael and happy birthday.”

  Shooing away my formality, she pulls me into a tight embrace. “It’s Celia. Please stop with the Ms. Carmichael crap.” My cheeks turn pink at her admonishment, but my heart swells. She’s always made a point of making me feel welcome, even that first day I showed up at her doorstep to drag Owen to work. Never having had a close relationship with my own mother, I’ve really come to enjoy the one Celia and I are cultivating.

  After the waiter takes our orders, Celia clears her throat and holds up her glass of water. “I know it’s my birthday and all, but I’d like to propose a toast.” We raise our glasses, letting her say her piece. “Cancer sucks,” she laughs, flipping her middle finger oh-so-discreetly at the invisible beast that was her cancer. Her spunky attitude is one I admire so much; it’s the same one I see mirrored in Owen.

  He laughs, adding, “Sure does, Mom. Hear, hear.” He raises his glass, thinking that’s the end of her speech.

  “I’m not done,” she chides, shooting him a rueful look. “So, like I said, cancer sucks, but I kicked its ass!” Her smile could light up the night sky. Reaching over next to me, I squeeze Owen’s hand in mine. He grins broadly at his mom, his eyes shining with all the emotion he feels for her. “Today marks six months of being cancer free and I couldn’t be happier.”

  We both wait for her to clink her glass to ours, not wanting to cut her short. “This is the perfect way to celebrate, Mom.” Owen’s voice is filled with love and appreciation.

  “There’s no one else I’d rather spend my birthday with.” Her voice is sweet and kind as she smiles at me. “And you’re not so bad either,” she adds jokingly, looking at Owen.

  “Very funny,” he rolls his eyes, taking his pinot noir from the waiter.

  We engage in small chat through most of the meal. Of course Owen talks animatedly about this season’s harvest and the latest in the construction. After our plates are cleared, Celia clears her throat once more, letting us know she has something important to tell us.

  “So for my birthday…” her voice turns youthful and fun as she folds her napkin before placing on the table.

  “Oh that’s right,” Owen fumbles, pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Sliding it across to her, he’s ridiculously proud of his ‘Over the Hill’ card, the one I told him was lame.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” She pats the envelope lovingly, but doesn’t open it. “I got myself a gift,” she dangles that out there for a minute, making Owen’s brow crinkle in confusion. “I’m moving to Florida.”

  Shock bathes over Owen, his fingers tightening around mine on his lap. “Where? When?” After a pause, he adds, “How?”

  Celia takes a deep breath before diving into her explanation. “I knew you’d be concerned, but please hear me out. Aunt Dee-Dee has a condo in Florida. Since Uncle Andy passed away last year, she could use some company.”

  Just as Owen is about to open his mouth in protest, I’m sure, Celia shushes him. “And now that you have Elle,” she looks over at me with gratitude and not an ounce of jealousy or meanness, “and the vineyard, you’re more than occupied.” Her voice carries her usual don’t-mess-with-me tone that I’ve come to love.

  “Are you sure, Mom? I mean the doctors–” Celia’s agitated huff cuts Owen’s sentence in half.

  “They say I’m fine. And they have doctors in Florida, too, you know?” She reaches for Owen’s hand as his fingers tap a crazy rhythm on the table. “Oh, honey, I know you’re worried, but I promise you, if there’s one single problem with my health, I’ll fly home in an instant. But I need this. Besides, it’s too cold up here anyway.”

  After a brief moment of consideration, Owen concedes, pulling Celia’s hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry for questioning you. What can we do to help you?” That he said “we” and not “I” makes my heart flutter in my chest. Of course, having spent pretty much every moment together in the last seven months, we’ve been inseparable, but this is personal stuff; this is real life. And the fact that he’s chosen to include me in his, repeatedly, makes me love him even more.

  “Nothing really. I just need you to take c
are of the house.”

  Owen looks to me briefly, before answering Celia. “Of course, anything you need.” Squeezing his hand in mine once more, we both smile over at his mom as she shines with happiness at her newfound freedom.

  “You okay with all of this?” I ask against his back, wrapping my arms around him from behind as he unbuttons his shirt.

  His hands cover mine as he turns me around in the circle of his arms. Pressing his lips against the top of my head, he holds me for a minute before speaking. “Yeah, I am.” Instead of being leery and unsure, his words are hopeful and happy.

  “It’ll be good for her to get away for a while.” I pull back from him and scan his face, trying to gauge his reaction. When his brow crinkles, I can see there is some kind of lingering concern. “What is it, Owen?”

  He pulls me over to my bed. “Mom’s house is over an hour away. I’ve been spending so much time here that I forget what a pain in the ass it is to commute, especially when I need to be out in the fields with Peter at five in the morning.” He huffs a breath of frustration; a sense of his obligation hangs in the air. He turns to face me, pulls my hands into his on his lap, and takes another deep breath. “And then there’s you,” his soft words tumble from a lopsided and genuine smile.

  I don’t remember exactly when it started, but we stay at my place a lot – at least five nights a week. In fact, I don’t think Owen has been to his mom’s house in the last week. At first, it was that we were both working long hours with the construction and fall harvest, but those excuses quickly went out the window when we both had trouble falling asleep without being in the same bed. The idea of changing the routine to which we’ve both become so accustomed must be weighing on him.

  “I don’t want to change what we’ve got going here. Things have been…” he pauses, searching for the right word.

  I supply it for him without a second though. “Perfect. It’s been perfect and we’ll continue to make it that way,” I assure him with a gentle squeeze of the hands and kiss to the cheek.

  “Since I inherited the vineyard, my life has been crazy. I’ve learned things about myself and what I want out of my future that I never even thought possible. And then there’s you.” He leans forward and places a soft, sweet kiss to my smiling lips. “Loving you is the best part of everything that’s happened.” His confession is laced with needless concern, because all I can focus on is the fact that he said love.

  “Love?” My question is meant to be airy and light, but it’s anything but.

  Cupping my jaw, he pulls me close for another kiss. Speaking against my lips, he says, “Yes. Love.” Pulling away once more, his eyes lock on mine. “I love you, Elle, so much. And now that I have you, I don’t want to be away from you.”

  Speech totally eludes me. Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I can’t put to words the feelings blooming in my heart.

  Sweeping his thumb over the bow of my upper lip, his smile widens. “I love when you get so flustered you can’t speak. I love how caring and honest you are. I love how passionate you are about everything you do. I love how you’ve never once given up on me, on your dreams, on our future.”

  Well, if he thinks that little speech is going to cure me of my inability to speak, he is certainly mistaken. All I’m capable of is sealing my lips over his in a searing kiss. My fingers dive into his hair as my tongue twists against his. We fall back on the bed, a breathless heap of tangled legs.

  Feverishly, I strip him of his unbuttoned shirt. As I run my fingers over his chest, his eyes widen, his cock hardens beneath me. Straddling his hips, I gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Finally finding my voice, my feelings dangle on the tip of my tongue. “I love you, too. All those things you said about loving me, those are the same reasons I love you more than I ever thought I would love someone.”

  With quickness I don’t see coming, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me underneath him. Our remaining clothes fall to the floor and his lips travel over my heated skin. His thumbs strum over the tightened points of my nipples before he pinches them gently. My hips push up against his, the heat of his movements settling between my thighs. “Owen…” His name falls from my lips in a soft, breathless plea.

  Watching him travel down my body, his tongue twisting down the center of my stomach, dipping into my belly button, makes desire pool, hot and heavy. His strong hands spread my legs wide; his mouth hovers over my sex, breathing hot breaths against my skin. With one last, loving glance up at me, his tongue sweeps over my heated flesh. “Oh, God…” my voice is strained. Pleasure and need mix together, pushing me close to the edge of my control in mere seconds. When he slides two fingers into me, crooking them forward as his tongue works relentlessly over my clit, an orgasm so earth shattering, I never thought it would have existed, crashes into me, washes over me, and leaves me wrung out, but begging for more.

  Having abandoned condoms months ago, Owen wastes no time sliding up my body and into me. “Oh, God, Elle…you always feel so fucking good.” Slipping his arms under my shoulders, he holds me close to him. With my orgasm still on his lips, he kisses me with all of the love he’s just professed.

  My nails trail along his back before sinking into his tight ass, pulling him even closer to me. With absolutely no space between us, we move together effortlessly, passionately. Rocking back and forth, Owen pushes me close to the edge of another orgasm.

  “Come with me, Elle. Now.”

  Burying my face in his shoulder, I let the waves of pleasure pulse through me once more. Reveling in the feel of him shuddering above me, I stare into his eyes. With a loving touch, I sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I love you.”

  His lips pull into a beautiful smile as he looks down at me. After popping a reverent kiss to my forehead, he whispers, “I love you, too.”

  Eight Months Later

  Lightly gripping a more than crazed Elle by the shoulders, I stop her in her tracks. “Calm down, sweetheart. Everything is going to be perfect.” The frenzied look in her eyes lets me know she’s anything but calm. It’s our first wedding at the newly finished reception hall and even though we’ve worked out every possible detail, Elle hasn’t been able to breathe all morning.

  “But the flowers are late, and the bride will be here in…” she pauses, looking down at her watch. “Oh, God, like five minutes. She’ll be here in five minutes!” The panic rises again and I have to admit, she looks absolutely adorable when she freaks out.

  “Shh…” I pull her to my side and walk us over to the rustic bench sitting in the entryway of the atrium. Kneeling before her, I hand her a flute of champagne from the table at our side. “These are for the guests,” she scoffs, but she still takes the glass. After tossing it back in a single gulp, she takes a deep breath.

  “Better?” I ask with an arched eyebrow. She shrugs, but I catch a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “Elle, this wedding is going to kick ass. You’ve done amazing things and the place is gorgeous. Sit back, relax and enjoy the day. We have everything in place for the day to run as smoothly as possible.”

  Just as she wordlessly, but nervously nods her agreement, a sleek white limo pulls in front of the building. “Let’s do this.” There’s a resolve to her words as she laces her fingers with mine. Smoothing out her skirt, she greets the glowing bride with nothing but cheerful confidence.

  Watching her throughout the day only makes me fall in love with her more and more. When Mom first moved to Florida, Elle took the adjustment in stride. We split our time between her apartment and the house for a while. When the commute became too much and Mom decided she was most definitely not moving back, I sold the house. It was difficult to say goodbye to the home I’d grown up in, but it was also a relief in a way. In no time at all, Elle’s apartment became our apartment and it’s been smooth sailing ever since.

  Enjoying our first event at the vineyard has been a dream come true. The guests have complimented us on the wine and food countless times. Watching the happy couple take pictures
in the vines I’ve come to love is the perfect way to close the day.

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Elle. Today was beautiful.” I hand her a glass of merlot as the last of the crew clears the main ballroom.

  “You think they had fun?” she asks around the lip of her glass.

  I laugh. “Of course they did. They had a blast. You gave them the wedding of their dreams.” Pulling her feet up to my lap, I rub away the soreness. Her eyes close as her head rolls back. Sensual groans fall out of her mouth as my fingers work their magic.

  “Think we can pull it off again next weekend?” Her light chuckle is meant to deflect her worries, but I can still hear them there.

  “Elle,” her eyes meet mine at my serious tone. “We can do this, weekend after weekend after weekend.” Gently, I place her feet back on the floor. She turns to put her glass on the table to her side and when she twists back to me, she’s shocked to see me kneeling on the floor in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” she gasps as I reach into my pocket.

  “There’s no one in my life I can ever imagine doing this with.” I sweep my free hand to the side, across the room that’s being cleaned up. “We’ve built a business together, constructed an estate where people will vow to spend the rest of their lives together. Now,” I pull out the small, blue velvet box that’s been burning a hole in my pocket since early this morning, “it would make me the happiest man on the planet if you’d say yes and be my wife. I want to build a life together with you, if you’ll have me?”

  Tears glisten in her eyes as her hand covers her mouth. A silent nod accompanies a single tear streaking down her cheek. She pulls me into her arms, saying over and over again, “Yes, yes, yes.”