by Kelly Kay
ELLE: What kind of present?
ELLE: Josh?
ELLE: Fine. I’m on my way.
I rack my brain to come up with what to bring him. Would he really withhold an orgasm? He’s not that strong to resist me. That doesn’t seem very sporting, but I’d rather not find out. This man is confusing my head, and it’s annoying. I don’t waffle on decisions or get confused. I keep denying our connection to make it all the more palatable. But fuck, I want him. I make a lot of people a lot of money, and I choose what gets done. But I really, really want him to make me come. I decide a Mezcal cocktail might do as a gift. I run to the bartender just as he’s about to close his van.
“Are you looking for annihilation or just a suggestion?”
“Strong suggestion. And can you make two?”
“Anything for you, Elle.”
I pull out Roman Holiday, my Nars shell pink sheer lip color and apply while I wait. I’m feeling very Audrey as I pull my dress and hair back into place. Then suddenly, five staff members from the winery show up to finish cleaning. I give them a couple of instructions and ask them to check on the trolley and the favors. I also mention that maybe if they fold the table clothes in half before stuffing them into the dirty linen bags, then they’ll have more room in the bag. I can’t help myself. I leave them to do as I’ve asked and it’s killing me not to follow through, but I really want to come.
I’m carrying two exquisite cocktails in long-stemmed plastic wine glasses adorned with tropical flowers. The staff and I wrapped fake leis around the bases of all of the stemware for tonight. Alone and on my way back through the tunnel, I remove my coral thong and wrap it around the base of his glass, then I wrap a similar colored lei on top of it. It’s soaked through just thinking about it rubbing against me.
He’s in a circle of bros. There’s a second circle to their left made up of that film festival girl Meg, a stunning brunette, a striking dark-haired woman, and one distinctively tall woman with a shock of pink hair. The pink hair belongs to Tommi Schroeder. I met her at a dinner with her father, Adrian.
I was told earlier that they were all sons and daughters of the winemakers and vintners and that they grew up together. I got a text earlier that Poppy wasn’t going to make it. I see Jims there, but I want to know the rest. There are five families that the parents and kids were all very close growing up. I have finally memorized the families: Aganos, Schroeders, Gelberts, Langerfords, and the Whittiers. I push through a couple of the boys and one whistles. I turn towards this raven-haired man with muddy blue eyes.
“I’m sorry. In this current era, you think a whistle is an appropriate way to tell me you think I’m attractive? How old are you?”
The direct crowd laughs, and the women cheer from just outside the circle.
The whistler speaks, he has a kind look to him, but I’m not so sure he has manners. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Whatever." Dark-haired dude rolls his eyes at me. The tall raven-haired woman with stunning golden-brown eyes walks over and punches him in the arm.
“Fucking idiot. Shut up, man. I’m so sorry for my brother. You don’t really do things like this, do you?”
The brunette with the coffee-colored eyes and yells, “He’s done it to me. But then I kicked him in the balls.” Everyone giggles, but I am a stranger in this group.
Josh chimes in. I spin around to look at him as he addresses his friend. I’m in the middle of the circle and directly between the two men. “You did, though. You meant to demean her by whistling at her. Your purpose was to help her remember that women don’t matter as much as men. That’s she’s not worth looking in the eye. You should have told her how utterly stunning and ethereal she looks tonight. Or even if you want to be bold, that you’d like to kiss her or depending on how she reacts, that you’d like to screw her. Or perhaps learn of her considerable business acumen or how she could probably outrun you. All of those are better options than a non-consenting grunt or whistle or even an out-of-date ouyga.”
I’m dumbstruck. The rest of the dudes are dumbstruck. And the women laugh heartily and walk away. And then the party begins to applaud him. The whistler looks at me. The man who wants to dominate me just defended feminism and me. But his dominance play has to do with trust, not forcing me to do filthy things in order to demean me.
The thug almost bows to me as he says, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I just wanted to convey how gorgeous you look tonight, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”
His tone is sarcastic. “Thank you for the apology, but from your behavior and the way you’re standing, I can tell you’re not quite man enough for me. But have a great night.”
I hear him mutter ‘bitch’ as I turn my back, and before I know what’s happening, Josh is on him as well as two of the other guys. Another one leans forward and pulls me away from the incident. I hear a punch land with a thud. I turn and this teddy bear bearded fellow, who just appeared, takes me out of the strike zone.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll get him. But you should know...”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen him defend a woman like that before. And I’ve known all of them.”
The bearded guy breaks it all up and then leads the asshole up and out of the party. Randy puts the music back on, and everyone cheers. I rush to the tasting room to grab ice. I get three bundles of it. I’m not sure how many people threw punches. Josh and one of the other guys are holding their fists. Jims is swilling beer, but there seems to be a mark on his cheek. Some of the women saunter back over.
I ask, “Are you okay?”
Josh looks up with a resolute grin and says, “I am. You know Jims, and this is Baxter Schroeder.”
“Thank you, Jims. And it’s nice to meet you, Baxter.”
Jims air-kisses me and then announces me. “This is Elle Parker, everyone. And I might be in love with her.” They all groan and laugh.
Baxter has pure blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and similar coloring to me. His sister, the pink haired Tommi, has the same eyes. He’s incredibly fit, and his salmon polo shirt hangs perfectly over what I suspect are some damn chiseled pecs. He’s dressed as if he’s headed to a yacht party instead of a tiki party. I think maybe his ribbon belt with embroidered grapes might be worn unironically. Jims is a taller, leaner, and shaved version of the teddy bear guy but impeccably dressed in pressed and coordinated tiki garb.
I put my hand out to Baxter as I hand him an ice pack. “The pleasure’s mine. Thank you very much for defending my honor. I hope you’re not hurt.”
I walk to Jims and press on his cheek, he winces. I place my impromptu ice pack on his cheek. Then he swigs his beer again. I wrap the ice around Baxter’s hand. I turn to Tommi.
“Glad to have a bit more estrogen around. Becca took her drunk ass brother home, but you’d probably like her. And Tabi just took off for a rando date. She said something about a coconut bra. She wanted you to know that you’re a badass.” I notice Baxter roll his eyes.
I inquire. “Tabi?”
Josh answers, “Tabitha Aganos, her parents own Stafýlia Winery.”
Baxter explains, “She’s was the Greek-looking brunette with the copper penny eyes.”
Tommi bows to me. “She’s not Greek-looking, she’s Greek.”
“Whatever.” Baxter teases back to his sister.
Tommi turns to me, “And if you don’t mind me saying so, you look lovely tonight, and I’d like to get to know you better.” Laughter breaks out.
“Thank you for that lovely comment. But I think I might be busy tonight.” I glance at Josh and he nods.
Tommi says, “Don’t deck me, dude.” Then she turns back to me. “But you’ve got a spectacular ass.”
More laughter and she walks away. I like her. I step to Josh, and he explains, “Don’t worry about David, he can be an ass when he’s drunk. Or sober. Always has been. He’s a Gelbert. Not the first time we’ve all beat the shit out of each other, and it won’t be the last.”
The other two men laugh. I look at Josh and realize he’s put ice on his eye. I turn towards him and take the ice pack, looking underneath. There’s a slight swelling. I press lightly on his face, and his lips curl as I take care of him.
“It’s not so bad, Cosmo. I’m fine. My hand hurts more than anything.”
“I’m surprised your head hurts at all, given how hard it is.” Then I put my hands on my hips. “I can defend myself.”
The bearded man comes bounding around the corner, hearing the end of my statement. He says, “Damn, that bitch’s got your number.”
I know it’s a joke, and I laugh along with everyone else.
Baxter addresses the group, “Wednesday?” They all grunt. “Josh?”
He nods and Baxter hugs him. “Miss Parker, I have to go and check on something. But I assume I’ll see you soon.”
“Nice to meet you, Baxter.” I shake his good hand, and he trots off towards the parking lot.
Tommi and Jims give their goodbyes, and I thank them again. The dirty blonde bearded man with the kind robin-brown eyes stays. I don’t want to say this, but he reminds me of Winnie The Pooh. He guides me to the rattan couches I put here for the night. He’s in a faded and worn Hawaiian shirt that the buttons pull at the belly a bit. He extends his hand to me.
“Sam Langerford.”
“Get out! That’s my favorite! I love that Chardonnay!”
“Thank you very much. I’m rather fond of it myself.”
“Seriously your Chard is freaking lit. I adore it.”
“Hey!” Josh screams as he approaches rapidly. Then he puts the ice pack on his eye. I turn to him, and he looks agitated.
“Yours is good, but I like Langerford’s better. There’s a vanilla to it and not so much oak. I like the mineral flavor better.”
They both laugh. Josh turns to me. “Something you should probably share with our winemaker and not the competition. And when did you develop an actual palate?”
He winks at me. Sam retrieves our cocktails that he took from me in the fray. He hands Josh the one with the blue lei at the base. I lean over and switch them, praying that Sam didn’t see my panties draped around the base. It seems to be hidden by the lei, but please on everything holy, let him not have seen it.
“Poisoned one and not the other?” Sam asks.
“I already sipped mine.” I quickly make an excuse, so my thong ends up in the right place. Then I turn to Josh and say, “Maybe I’ll sit with Alena and share my uneducated palate’s opinion.”
Josh rolls his eyes at me. “I have no doubt Alena will get an earful.”
I slap his arm quickly, and he growls at me. I like it much better than when he’s silently judgy.
“Who are you, Sam Langerford? Besides a fantastic vineyard dynasty family?”
He looks to Josh and says to me, “Reporter? FBI?”
Josh’s lips curl up again. Gesturing to Sam, he says, “Sam’s my…”
Sam fills in what Josh cannot. “Got your back, guy. If we were women, he’d say bestie.”
Josh nods at me. I had no idea he kept in contact with anyone from town. When he's in town, he always seemed to be busy Wednesday nights. I wonder if he was with Sam.
“I’m honored to meet you.” I toast him.
We all sit and sip. I sit on the edge of the flowered cushion adorning the Rattan couches gathered on the courtyard. Sam shifts in his seat and sips his beer then turns to me.
“I’m not trying to be rude, but I really don’t know your name. Did you tell me and I forgot?”
I quickly extend my hand. “Shit. No. Sorry. I thought you were there when your brother announced me. I’m Noelle Parker. You can call me Elle.”
He doubles over with a tremendous soulful joyous laugh. “Don’t punch me, Josh. But this is the bitch? The cold New York bitch? You just laid out Gelbert for calling her that. You punched a guy for someone you’ve hated. And dude, you’ve called her way worse.”
“Hated? Interesting. Cold hard bitches rarely get a moment to relax or hear the things said about them, so this is nice.”
I cross my legs and turn away from him. He takes the ice off his eye and faces me with a suggestive smile. “You cannot tell me you didn’t hate me.”
“You were of no consequence to me. Hate is too strong of an emotion.” He instantly begins to tickle me as Sam watches this unfold before him. “Fine. I hate you. I hate everything about your smug bastard ass.”
Sam tips his beer back and nods to us. “Fine line, kids between love and hate.” He stands and surveys the courtyard. “Hey, did Serena really leave with Asher?”
He knows Serena. He does share some of his life with someone.
“No clue,” Josh says.
I shrug, and Sam’s boisterous laugh fills the space around us.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Josh
My mind drifts away from Elle and Sam talking. I push what I must do tomorrow from my mind as well. For once I want to just exist at the moment. I’ll deal with the backlash and hope that Elle forgives me for leaving, but I can’t walk away from her tonight. I should. If I were a better man, I’d kiss her on her forehead, go to the Farmhouse, jerk off, and go to sleep. I’d leave her confused. But I’d leave her intact. I wish I were a better man.
I sit back and look at the gift she brought me, focusing on what’s wrapped around my glass. It’s not a just a lei, sweet hell, it’s her coral thong. I lift my glass and wave it in front of my nose while she watches. Oh yeah, not going anywhere tonight that doesn’t involve this woman.
Not quite lilac and orange blossoms. More of clove, orange, spicy potpourri thing going on. She’s so arresting tonight. And I wanted to fucking bury Gelbert for not only calling her a bitch but for the whistle. Don’t you whistle at what’s mine. All I know is I need to fuck her tonight. I need her to feel me from the inside. She's going to beg me to come.
“I will take my leave of you,” Sam says. “It’s late, and I need to figure out which one of these ladies wants to be my pumpkin.”
Elle leaps up with enthusiasm, almost spilling his beer. He seems caught off guard. That’s who she is. She’s the ‘caught off guard’ woman with the sexiest, juiciest ass I’ve ever seen. Just when you think you know her, she does something that catches you off guard. She puts me off-kilter and off guard. This incredibly sophisticated, cool, and collected, Manhattanite wrapped her sex-soaked thong around my glass. The one who was demure and taking care of me just jumped out of her seat yelling at full volume. Her delicate features and her kicks ass brain. She is all things.
“In the tasting room, there’s a girl named Samantha. She goes by Sam. She’s this tall willowy slip of a thing that’s sweet and funny. The one with the auburn streaks in her hair. She’s also a force to be reckoned with so don’t fuck with her too much. And you already have an opening, the same name. She’s single and just through her break-up mourning period. You have the first crack at her. And you’re totally her type.”
“Intriguing. I’m rarely someone’s type. Usually, I have to convince women of that fact. We can’t all just walk into a room like Josh or Bax.”
“Fuck off, man. Trust me, I’ve worked my ass off to convince certain individuals that I’m her type.”
She shoots me a look and then her lip curls as she turns back to Sam. Yeah, I’m not a good man. I won’t walk away from her tonight.
“She moved here from the city to get away from the world she was in. She’s twenty-nine. She wants to be a writer. Nonfiction, I think. Oh! Stay here.” She bolts into the tunnel, emerges minutes later with one of our pricer bottles of sparkling.
We do it with Champagne Methode but have to call it sparkling because it’s not made in the Champagne region in France. My four times great-grandmother, Emma LaChappelle, the 4G, carried the root for the Chardonnay from her family’s Champagne vineyards in a large handbag when she moved here. Her father forbid her from making wine. He told her to be a good wife, so she convinced her w
inemaking husband to leave and go to California to create their own winery. The Cab, Merlot, Pinot, and the Chardonnay all have some of that original rootstock still a part of their grapes. We’ve cloned and grafted over the years, but the original French root lives on.
But Emma took special care with the Pinot Meunier, her favorite Champagne grape. She wrapped it in wet burlap because she loved bubbles but hated her parents. She dug it up and cut it herself. The Meunier is just a lab sample stock now. We had a hard time making it grow. But it’s a classic ingredient of the perfect Champ.
Our sparking is simply Pinot and Chard these days. I should tell Elle that story. It’s a good one. She was the first of the LaChappelles in California and according to legend, a badass. I’ve been told no one could say no to her and she always got her way. Gee, who else do I know like that? Elle has the balls to expertly open the bottle in front of me, even though we could have sold it tomorrow. Then hands it Sam.
“Tell her it got opened by accident, and I asked you to deliver it to her because it’s her favorite. She likes bubbles. Then tell her I said it was okay to go home. But I need her early in the morning to help me with clean up. But go. Take her. Have a great night.”
“Elle, who said you could open that?” I say authoritatively.
She turns to me quickly and flashes me a sexy eyebrow raise. I’m going to see my handprint on her ass tonight. And it appears she wants that as well.
Sam turns to me. “This woman. She gets shit done. And that shit includes getting me done.”
I shout, “That she does. Always in control. Always a plan. Always finds a way to get what she wants. Every decision weighed and precisely executed. She’s always accomplishing things, never a moment to relinquish jurisdiction or dominance.”
I purse my lips and do an eyebrow raise of my own. Her knees buckle. I’m wearing her thong around my wrist, and I smell it while she’s still staring at me. I enjoy that she seems to be stumbling over her words.