Page 87 of Gone With the Wine

She pouts and her eyelids lower. “Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

She huffs out a breath. “No. I didn’t. I wanted out of here, and I wasn’t really thinking about the relationships, you know? My friends. My sisters. The rest of the family.” She traces her fingers over my chest. “I’m lucky my friends were better about staying in touch even though I never came back to visit. I regret that I wasn’t here when Nonna died. I thought she’d always be here.” Her voice thickens. “And I wonder if some of the problems with Uncle Geno and the boys are because I wasn’t here.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.” I fucking hate how her family is reacting to her and her sisters inheriting Caparelli. Family should support each other. They should be doing everything they can to make sure the sisters are successful. Instead, her jackass uncle is trying to make things worse. That pisses me off.

“No, I’m not. But I have been thinking about family and how we support each other and I…haven’t really been here. For any of them. I don’t know what the hell Allegra is up to in Europe, or how Rosa really managed these past years, especially now Nonna is gone. Nonna was the glue…the one who kept us girls, the Martinellis, joined with the Lambertis. Three girls, three boys…when we were little we all played together. Went to school together. We were all friends. And now…” She clears her throat. “I don’t even know Gianni and Vittorio and Leo anymore.”

“Is it too late? I don’t think it’s too late.” I move strands of hair off her neck. I like hearing her talk, although not when she criticizes herself.

“I guess not.” She goes pensive. “I’ve just been so busy with harvest. That’s all I’ve been able to focus on.”

“I know. And I asked even more of you.”

She tilts her head back. “But I love it. You know I do. Yes, it’s hard work, but there’s so much satisfaction when I taste something that I helped create.”

“Yeah. I don’t contribute much, but I like feeling like I helped create something, too.”

“You do contribute!”

“Not like you.”

“Well, Mother Nature does most of the work; I’m just trying to bottle it. It’s like bottling the wind, the sun, the rain. Even the soil. And if I’m lucky…a little magic.”

My chest tightens hearing her words. I entered into this thinking I understood what I was doing, but Bianca is both an artist and a scientist. Her connection to wine goes so deep and it’s an incredible, beautiful thing.She’sincredible and beautiful.

“But the best thing about winemaking…” She lifts her head and regards me with twinkling eyes. “Is that I get to use the word bunghole.”

A laugh bursts from my chest. My arms tighten around her reflexively, an unfamiliar lightness rising up inside me.

Christ. What is happening to me? She convinced me that a little hot sex isn’t a problem because neither of us are looking for more, but now I’m worried that might not be exactly true. After having her, after feeling her come around me, after tasting her, after talking to her and her stroking my ego with compliments and greedy eyes, and now her making me laugh, in bed for fuck’s sake, my world is shook. Somehow more than my dick is involved in this situation now. I’m starting to wonder how I can ever live without her in my life.

That’s fucking dangerous thinking.

If I open up to the wrong person, trust the wrong person again, I’ll be screwed with a capital F. Again. I can’t do that.

And yet, if she got up to leave right now, I’d stop her.

This internal conflict of wanting her beyond anything and yet being terrified out of my mind by that is really inconvenient.

Well, since I’m not going to kick her out of bed, might as well make the best of it.

Chapter19

Bianca

I’m obsessed with orange wine.

Also with Jansen Beck. But I’m trying not to think of him. I can’t afford to be obsessed with anything besides wine right now.

I can do this. I can have sexy shenanigans with a hot hockey player, and then leave when it’s time. I did that with Tomás.

I can do it again.

Back to the wine. I need to talk to Rosa about it. She’s meeting me here in the pressing house in a few minutes and I’m prepared for the discussion.

She walks in and drops into one of the ancient chairs. “What’s up?”

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