by Megan Ryder
“You’re returning to Houston?”
He pasted a smile on and gestured to the door, deliberately ignoring her question. “Want to see the rest of the place before the storm hits?”
“What about heading back to the island?”
He glanced at his watch. “I think that ship has sailed. We needed to get in the air over an hour ago. If we try to go now, we could run into the rain bands and wind. The island is already feeling the outer edges.”
She jabbed a finger in his chest. “You knew that when you suggested this side trip. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He stepped back and rubbed his chest. “Would you rather stay at the seedy motel next to the airport? While I relax in front of my fire in my house? What kind of guy would I be if I let that happen?”
She folded her arms and looked out the window and dark sky. “You should have told me.”
“Would you have still come?” he asked softly from behind her.
She turned, a smile creasing her face. “That depends on the tour and the wine, not to mention dinner. I have expensive tastes.”
He grinned. “I think I can accommodate that.”
He showed her around the barns, where they made the wine, stored it, and some of the vines. He was demonstrating the different grapes, tying the vines, and the types of grapes when the storm hit. The wind lashed them, driving rain against them as they ran from the fields to the house, splashing in the mud up to the porch. Once they got to the porch and out of the weather, they both stopped, breathing heavy. Delaney was laughing so hard she was having trouble catching her breath. She bent over at the waist, desperately wheezing. Ethan leaned against the wall, not breathing as heavily but laughing at her.
Finally, she stood up, still holding her side. “I haven’t laughed this hard in...I don’t know how long.”
He wiped her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a moment.
Then he shook his head quickly. “Let’s get you inside and dried off.”
He brought her up to a guest room and bathroom where she could shower and change. She walked into the small bathroom and was instantly charmed by the black and white claw-footed bathtub and shower. The old world feel of the bathroom combined with the modern touches made for comfort and a relaxing shower. When she emerged to the guest room, clothes were laid out on the bed for her. She was glad to see they weren’t women’s clothes, or else she would have wondered where they had come from, who had left them. Instead, a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants were laid out. She quickly dressed and rolled the pants a few times to keep them from dragging on the floor, tripping her. She wandered downstairs to the front hallway. She ran her hands over the antique table and mirror. The pieces were not museum quality. They were broken in, well-used, and loved, with nicks and scratches, not showpieces designed to reflect a person’s wealth and status.
The banging of pots and pans drew her down the hallway to the back of the house and the large kitchen. Ethan stood in front of the stove, clad only in low slung sweatpants, and he was cooking.
Cooking?
She inhaled deeply and let it out. “Steak? Are you cooking, Ethan?”
He whirled around and grinned, looking boyish with damp hair hanging over his forehead. “I had to eat. Lola cooks sometimes, but I had to learn sometime, right?” He pointed to a bar stool at the island in the middle of the room. “Have a seat. Glass of wine? I have this fabulous red that we’re trying made with our muscadine grapes.”
“I’d love some.” She settled on the stool and surveyed the spacious kitchen.
He poured her a glass and handed it to her. “A toast. To Caroline and Matthew. And to old friends.”
They clinked glasses and she took a sip then paused, swirling the wine in her mouth. He studied her, a half smile of expectation on his face.
She glanced up. “Wow, that’s really good. You made this?”
His smile was unlike anything she had ever seen on his face, even when he graduated college and asked her to marry him. He had never looked so pleased or proud before that she could recall. “We have a unique climate here in East Texas, unlike other wine regions in Texas. We have diseases and humidity that other areas don’t have so our grapes have to be able to withstand that. So, we’re trying these grapes, along with a few other vineyards, to see how they grow. This is our first real success.”
“I would definitely say it’s a success. This is pretty fantastic.”
His grin broadened and the muscles in his shoulders loosened. “Yup, the grapes give it that flavor. A nice, full-bodied taste and the grapes are hardy. People are going to love it. And, we limited the tannins and sulfates so you shouldn’t get a migraine.”
“This is great, Ethan! You’ve done a wonderful job here.”
He glanced outside at the fields. “Considering it wasn’t what I had planned on doing, I actually love it.”
The sizzle from the pan turned his attention back to the stove.
Delaney sipped her wine and considered her next question. “So, why would you move back to Houston?”
He froze for a split second. If she hadn’t been watching, she wouldn’t have seen the tensing of his shoulders, the momentary hesitation in his stirring of the vegetables. It was gone quickly, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. The silence lengthened and she waited.
Finally, he turned the temperature down, tossed the towel over his shoulder and faced her. “My father wants to retire. He wants me to take over now, so he can ease his way out.”
She nodded. “That’s to be expected. He’s getting older and Kira probably wants to spend some time with him. But why you?”
His face twisted in a grimace. “I’m the eldest, his son and heir. My sister works there, probably is better than I ever was, but my dad is old-fashioned.”
“I remember your sister. Scary smart and ruthless. Nothing got in her way when she wanted something, even at Monopoly. Why can’t she take over?”
“Samantha is a woman. My dad expects that she will get married, get pregnant, and be focused on kids, diapers, schools, all the family things. Not to mention she won’t carry on the family line. There’s always been a Van Owen at the helm.” He said the last words in a deep intonation, probably like his father, then sighed. “She loves the business. More than I do, truth be told.”
“It must really hurt her for him to want you and not her.” Delaney studied him over the rim of her glass.
Ethan braced himself on his hands on the island and stared at the wall. His jaw clenched then relaxed. The timer dinged and he shook himself.
“I guess.” He turned back to the stove and flipped the steak. “I haven’t really talked to her. He’s always expected me to return. I still have an office there and a staff to dust it. This was only supposed to be a temporary respite, an exile.”
“An exile?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You had to have known that. My father thought this would be a good distraction for me.”
“And get you out of the office until everything blew over.” She finished. “Hermitage Vines. Is that where you got the name?”
He put the food on two plates. “I thought we’d eat in the living room in front of the fire.”
He handed her a plate and she followed him to the living room and the small table set up in front of the stone fireplace. They sat on cushions and ate quietly. The crackle of the fire accompanied by the staccato of the rain against the house and the howl of the wind, combined with the early darkness outside, added to the feeling of being isolated, alone. Like on the island, the real world was far away and they were wrapped in their little cocoon, private, intimate, personal. Once they had finished eating, Ethan cleaned up, returning with a second bottle of wine. The power took that chance to flicker. Once, twice, then out completely. A rumble started, then the generator kicked in. Ethan stood and walked to the windows.
Delaney stood and followed him. “Do you need to check the barn
s?”
“No. See the lights on the outside? We rigged them to let us know the generator had kicked in. If the lights weren’t on, we could know that immediately and head out. It helped us out last year in the hurricanes. I never had to leave the house to know the wine was okay. It was worse then because we were actually making the wine and needed the power to keep it going. Now we just need the temperature control for the winery.”
He walked back to the fireplace and sat. He pushed the table out of the way and leaned against the couch.
She settled next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You never answered me about the name of your vineyard.”
He sighed and swirled the wine in his glass. “Yes, I changed the name to Hermitage Vines. For the first year or so, I rarely left. Matthew actually coined the phrase, saying I had become a hermit out here and needed the appropriate name.”
“Your father suggested you leave Houston?”
He nodded. “The rumors led to questions and a lot of our clients were concerned. Dad thought a break might be needed. Besides, my head wasn’t in the investment game at the time. I was going to work but not really there, if you know what I mean.”
Her heart ached and tears gathered in her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Ethan. But I had to focus on my family. I was overwhelmed, dealing with so many things I had never understood, much less knew how to handle. And you were busy fielding questions at work. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do both.”
“So, you chose your family over me.”
“You chose your family over me when you went to work every day when I needed you.”
He pulled away and looked at her. “You never let me help you. You never asked for help. You never let me in.”
She looked down and bit her lower lip. “I was embarrassed. Do you know what it’s like being the daughter of a criminal? I know he wasn’t convicted, but that’s only because he died before the trial. We all know it was a foregone conclusion. Do you know how that felt, to have your friends insult you, yell at you, attack you? It was vicious, Ethan.” She paused. “Around that time, I was barely sleeping. My mom had a breakdown and became housebound, and I became her only contact. One night I was up flipping through channels and I saw a nature show. Lions stalking a yak. They cut a baby yak from the herd and chased it down, finally all swarming and attacking, feeding while it was still alive. You could see the pain in its eyes, the knowledge of its death. The mother stood by, helpless to save her baby. Finally, she rejoined the herd.”
She turned his face to her with two fingers. “That’s how I felt. That was my life at that time. I couldn’t drag you down with me. I had to let you go. Do you understand?”
Anger was replaced by sadness in his eyes. “I had no idea. I would have stood by you. I could have protected you.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Really? When you, just by associating with me, were banished?”
“We were more than associates. We were engaged. I thought you loved me.”
She smiled a sad smile. “I thought I did too. But maybe it wasn’t love, if we could separate so easily. We’re not the same people we were back then.”
His shoulders slumped, the fire going out of him. “Maybe not.” He studied the fire for a long moment. “Did you ever think what would have happened if we had gotten married back then? What our lives would have been like?”
The fire mesmerized her, the dancing flames lulling her into visions of the past and what might have been. “All the time,” she finally admitted. “What do you think?”
He sighed and didn’t answer for a long time. “I think you were right. We would have married. Had a couple of kids. I would have worked eighty hours a week. You would be working on some charity organizations. We would have been polite strangers with our children raised by nannies.”
She shrugged. “That was our expectation, the lives we knew. So sad, isn’t it?”
He pulled away and turned sideways on the pillow. “Maybe the split was the best thing. I don’t want that life anymore. I like my life. I want to live here, with a family, working the vines.”
“So why are you going back to Houston?” she asked softly.
He sighed. “I have family obligations. But I can split my time between both places.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Ethan, you can’t live your life split in two, torn between loyalties. Trust me, I know this. It tears you apart inside. I tried it and it almost destroyed me.”
He swirled the wine in his glass, studying the play of color, and she laid her head on his shoulder, letting him think. They were both at a crossroads in their lives, both having families and duties that pulled at them. She was still trying to figure out her next steps, stay in Houston and fight for a chance to be someone at the museum or leave and start anew somewhere else. Ethan had to decide to be what his father wanted or follow a dream he never knew he had. Could there be a place in there for a relationship or had too much time passed? Had their time come and gone?
“I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I don’t know where I’m going, Delaney, but I know this. I want you by my side. I want to see where this is going.”
She avoided his gaze and considered his words. What was really keeping her in Houston? Her mother was moving to Arizona and her job wasn’t exactly a career. But a farm, even a vineyard? Her mind had been filled with ideas for his events barn, for what he could do with that space. She had always known how to throw a party, often coordinating the museum fund-raisers over the past few years. But first, she had to be sure.
She raised her face and met his gaze squarely. “Ethan, what are you saying?” Dare she hope he was saying what she wanted to hear?
“I’m not sure exactly what I’m saying. This week has been great, spending time with you, figuring out what went wrong. We’re both different people now, and I think I want to try again.”
She considered his words, her heart pounding in her chest. “The past few days have been wonderful, a bit stressful but I’m glad I came to the wedding. Seeing you again brought back all sorts of feelings that I thought I had dealt with but, honestly, they’re all coming back again. I don’t know where my life is going. I’m still trying to figure everything out but I can tell you this. I’m a different person, as are you. I’d like to get to know the new Ethan. I’d like to try this again.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, a light kiss, a tentative foray into this new space. She kissed him back, pouring her newfound hope and dreams into it, willing him to understand what she was saying. He plunged his fingers into her hair, tilting her head for better access. His tongue swept along the seam of her lips, teasing and taunting her, igniting a heat she hadn’t felt in years. She slid her hands up his chest and curved them around his neck, pulling him closer. He shifted and laid her down on the floor, coming on top of her, lips never breaking contact. He braced himself on one hand and traced her cheek with the other hand, eyes full of tenderness.
“Are you sure, Delaney?”
She smiled. “Definitely. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Ethan lowered his head and took her lips in a deeper kiss, their tongues tangling with each other. He swept a hand down her side and slipped under her shirt to caress the soft skin on her belly. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tugging at his hair, holding him close to her. He stroked higher until he felt the soft curve of her breast and he pulled back.
“You’re full of surprises today.”
She grinned. “Everything was soaked. My bra is still hanging in your bathroom. Unless you mind.”
“God, no,” he replied fervently and swooped down for another kiss.
She wiggled a leg free and wrapped it around his thigh, settling him more firmly against the soft vee of her core. The position felt like home, where he was supposed to be. He flicked his thumb over one nipple and her laugh turned to a gasp.
She arched her neck and moaned deep. “Oh, my God, Ethan. Again.”
He chuckled and flicked
it again, over and over until she was pushing up into his hand and begging for relief. He pulled the T-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. He slid down farther and took the same nipple in his mouth, sucking it deep, then tweaking it with a gentle nip of his teeth. He switched hands, bracing himself on one, and using the other to torment her other nipple, pinching and kneading it. She burrowed her hands in his hair, flexing her fingers, holding him close, her body twisting beneath his, grazing his cock with every movement, making him harder and closer to losing control.
His hand swept down her body and plunged into the front of her soaked panties. She arched into his hand with a small cry. He rose up and pressed his lips to hers, drinking in her cries, while his fingers plied her soft, wet flesh. Her head twisted back and forth and he watched the play of emotions on her face, something he never thought he’d see again. He found the hard nub and circled it harder and harder until her back bowed and she came with a loud cry. He covered her lips and drew out her orgasm until she rested boneless on the floor.
While she rested, he slipped out of his sweatpants and placed a couple of foil packets on the table next to them.
“You’re feeling optimistic,” she said, her voice low and languid.
He turned back to her and smiled. “I have a lot of time to make up for.”
He reached for one of the condoms on the end table and tore it open with his teeth, hands too shaky to manipulate the small packet. When he rolled back, Delaney had propped herself on one elbow and was watching him. Her eyes drifted downward and her hands quickly followed, pushing him on his back so she could explore. She ran her hands over the hard ridges of his muscles, his cock twitching as she caressed closer and closer to his groin. Finally, she gently circled him with her hand and began stroking, up and down, harder and harder. He threw his head back and groaned.
“You’re killing me.”
“Good,” she softly replied.
She took the condom out of his hands and quickly sheathed him. She moved to straddle him, but he rolled her over, wanting, no, needing her beneath him this first time, needing to see her expressions, needing the connection. He positioned himself and slowly entered her. She was tight, gripping him like a glove, but her previous orgasm eased his way.