Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Me: Meet me behind the winery, baby. I won't keep you long.
Constance: Liar.
Me: I'll be on my best behavior.
It's not actually a lie. I won't let her miss going to see her brother. But I need ten minutes alone with her first to talk to her about all of this shit. And, quite frankly, I need her in my arms before she goes. She's been in my bed every night since I lied to get her to dinner. I won't sleep a wink tonight without her. I need to see her before she goes.
She sends back a side-eye emoji, which I take to mean she thinks I'm full of shit. And then she follows it up with an eggplant and a raindrop. I guess that means she wants me to fuck her against the harvester before she goes.
Like I didn't already plan on doing that.
I can be quick. I know how to have her coming all over me in two minutes flat at this point.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, jogging up the driveway to my parents' house. I find my dad standing on the porch, a beer in one hand and a smile on his face.
"I thought that was you stumbling down the path," he says, tipping his head to the side, a question in his gaze.
"I was on my phone," I mutter, climbing up the steps to meet him.
"Ah." His eyes crinkle. "Nathan warned me that you would probably find your way over here soon. Miriam called him."
"Jesus. Are there any secrets in this family?"
"Fuck no," he smirks. "There hasn't been a secret in this family in thirty years, kid. Your mother and your aunts have regular meetings to share any hint of gossip."
"Uh, I'm pretty sure you and my uncles gossip as much as they do."
"Fuck yeah, we do. How the hell else are we supposed to keep tabs on them?" He cocks a brow at me like he thinks I'm slipping or something. "You know damn well what they're like."
I smile because, yeah, I do know what my mom and aunts are like. And I also know that my dad and uncles love it.
My cousins and I have all been scarred by the things we've accidentally walked in on or heard. Believe me, no teenager ever wants to walk into the kitchen after football practice to see his dad's bare ass or hear his mom moaning. Honestly, therapy should have been part of our inheritance. We probably all need it after the shit we've seen. Our parents are sickeningly in love.
I'd be lying if I said I don't want the same goddamn thing with Constance. In thirty years, I want to be the motherfucker chasing her around the house like getting inside her is my only job.
I lean against the porch railing, glancing toward the door. "Is Ma home?"
"She's in the kitchen."
"Does she know what I'm planning?"
"Nah, I didn't tell her," Dad murmurs. "I figured you'd want to do that." He eyes me, his expression soft. "I'm proud of you, son."
"For what?"
"Being you," he says simply.
I clear my throat, glancing away. "I'm worried as hell that I'm going to fuck it up."
"You want to know something? I've had your mother for over thirty years, and I still live in fear of fucking up and losing her. When the worst possible thing you can imagine is losing them, that's how you know it's real."
"Yeah," I murmur. Christ, losing Constance is the worst possible thing I can imagine. The vineyard has always been my life, but I think she might be my soul. There is no competition there. I need her in a way I've never needed anything.
"You'll fight every day to keep her because she matters to you more than anything ever has. You can't fuck that up." He pats me on the back. "Now, go on inside and talk to your mom."
I jerk my head in a nod, rising to my feet. And then I pause. "You think she'll agree?" I ask, worried she might say no and send my plan crumbling to dust.
"I think if it's important to you, it's important to your mom," he says. "And I think she'd move heaven and earth to make sure you end up with the woman bringing you back to life in a way you haven't been in years."
"Shit," I mutter, clearing my throat again. "I've been breaking her heart, huh?"
"She worries about you more than any of the other kids," Dad admits, not lying to me. "You work too much. You made the vineyard your life instead of letting it make your life fuller. She never wanted that for you." His lips quirk into a grin as he takes a pull from his beer. "But something tells me that won't be a problem any longer."
"No," I say softly. "I don't think it will."