Page 120 of Corkscrew You
I know lust diminishes in intensity over time, but honestly, I can’t see myself ever not loving being in bed with Shelby. Every moment with her, every kiss, every touch, is a sheer joy. She is a joyous person, and sexy as hell. If love is madness, then consider me certifiably insane.
We were the first to say our goodbyes this evening. Despite Danny’s vow not to drink, the rest looked like they were settling in for a good old session. Guess Brendan would throw them out, possibly literally, when he wanted to close up.
Dylan greeted us rowdily as usual, but I squared my shoulders and confronted that bird like a man. As it happened, he shoved his head in my hand, and for the first time in my life, I petted a goose. I decided then to swear offfoie grasforever. No need to tempt fate any further.
It occurred to me, as I stroked a feathery neck, that I hardly ever thought in French these days. And that my shame and regret about my time there had lessened, so all I felt now was a faint pang.
I won’t stop owning my part in that break-up – if you don’t remember history, you’re condemned to repeat it. But I won’t beat myself up over it anymore. I’ve got a whole life in front of me, and dwelling on mistakes uses up valuable energy and makes you cranky. Makes you risk averse, too, and you win way bigger prizes when you’re brave. When you put your heart fully on the line.
“Where’d you go?”
Shelby is smiling down at me. After kicking the cats off the bed, we made love slowly and intently, savouring the feel and taste of each other. Her orgasm brought on mine, and itdidtransport me to another plane. An astral post-orgasm plane. Great place to visit. I recommend it.
“Not sure,” I reply. “There were pink clouds. Might have seen a unicorn, too.”
“Oh,thatplace,” she smiles. “I always want to buy fairy lights when I come back from there. And candles that smell like vanilla.”
“Could I love you any more?” I say.
It’s a rhetorical question.
“I love you, too.Somuch.”
She kisses the hollow in my collarbone, then my jawline, then my mouth. Parts south start to stir again. Lust can hang around a while longer. I’m totally OK with that.
“Mmm…”
Shelby’s hand has tracked south, and she’s making that sex-bee sound again. I’ve been harbouring this desire to kiss every one of her freckles, from top to toe, but that will take a very long time, and things are suddenly feeling a whole lot more urgent. Good thing I stocked up again at the hospital pharmacy.
“Anything in particular you want me to do?” I murmur.
I have such good manners, I should get a prize.
Woah!
OK, right, we’re doingthat—
It’s always the innocent-looking ones with big blue eyes, isn’t it?
All I can say is … lucky me.
ChapterThirty-Nine
SHELBY
We’ve got no shortage of volunteers for the stomping, but we’ll need every one of them, because it’s hard work, plus your feetfreeze. The grapes are only around forty degrees, and after a while, you can’t feel your toes. Good to have someone ready to take your place, so you can thaw out.
No shortage of spectators, either. This is the biggest crowd the Flora Valley Wines stomping has drawn since I can remember. Iris has set up a food stall, and every spare bit of flattish ground is covered with people on blankets, eating, drinking, and laughing. The weather has that cool hint of fall, but it’s sunny and there’s no wind. Most people are still in summer clothes, making the most of it.
The stomping bins are all in a row, and there’s a big wooden pole that runs across the front of the whole lot, so we’ve got something to hang on to. Cam built it for Dad a few years back. He’s here somewhere, because he promised me he’d come, but I haven’t spotted him yet.
It’s not my turn to stomp, though Idowant to have a go. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken since harvest ten days ago. The grapes have been cold soaking and fermenting, and now it’s time to separate out the skins, so we can get the juice in barrels and kick off the ageing.
My first vintage was bottled three weeks ago, and all of it was shipped off to our customers. I made a special blend for Ted – Nate’s brilliant idea – and, judging by the increased traffic to our website and number of new sign-ups for our mailing list, it’s gone down well with the Bartons clientele. Higher demand means wecouldpush our prices up, but I refuse to take advantage of our loyal customer base, and Nate agrees. If we buy in grapes, however, we can make more of my exclusive blend for Ted’s posh clients, who are also nowourposh clients. Hoorah, as they probably don’t say in England.
Ted is here, too, looking like something out ofBrideshead Revisited, with linen pants and shirt, and a straw hat. Ted never stomps, mainly because he wouldn’t be caught dead in shorts. He has one of his shiny women with him, whose name I forgot the instant after he introduced us.
Chiara is here with her parents. Her dad brought enough cannoli to feed the entire state and has been dispensing them right and left with his usual Italian verve.
