Page 63 of One Last Rainy Day
“Wine drinker or not, this is delicious.” She scans the label. “Point Lookout, that’s where we are?”
“Yeah, the guy who owns it is a relative of Tyler’s. He attended West Point.”
“He really was bred from a loyal military family, huh?”
“All of them. Every single one,” I tell her. “Except Tyler’s mom.”
“I’m guessing from your tone, that’s not good?” she prompts.
“Not for Tyler’s mom,” I confess, tucking the weed into the ready paper.
“How so?”
I shake my head, catching myself. “Not my shit to tell.”
“Ahh, more secrets.”
“Yeah, so keep that shit to yourself,” I snap a little too harshly.
Jesus, fuck, Dom.
She takes another drink, eyes flaring before they soften as she lowers the bottle. “Want to talk about it?”
“Consider ‘never’ my standard answer for that question.” I swipe away debris from the table.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She rolls her eyes.
As much as I like sparring with her, it feels off now, considering what just transpired between us physically.
I’ll never get this right.
Soaking the closed joint between my lips, I feel the familiar weight on my profile.
“I’ll never get tired of watching you do that,” she whispers heatedly, “it’s sexy as hell.”
There it is again, the discomfort. Though I can’t really fault her because we both speak bluntly, Cecelia’s bold truths provoke a raw type of honest response that pry into me. Keeping to my task, I catch another involuntary, full-body shiver in my peripheral. She’s still cold.
Tucking my blunt behind my ear, I snatch the unopened bottle in one hand and hold out my other, nodding toward the wine she holds. “Cap that. Let’s go.”
“Already?” she deflates, eyes dropping while taking my hand and reluctantly standing.
Back in the car, feeling her disappointment from where she shivers next to me, I make a fast decision and turn right, treading slowly up the paved, steep inclined road that leads to the top of the mountain. The main tasting room and reception hall to our left, Cecelia audibly gasps when she sees what’s waiting on the right as it gradually comes into view. “Dom, oh my God, this is...wow!”
Transfixed, she exits the car in a dream-like state, and I grin and follow. I pass a handful of tables to join her where she sits on the waist-high rock wall lining the cliff. Before us is an endless view of the peaks and valleys of the BlueRidge Mountains. We spend a few minutes in comfortable silence. It’s when I light my blunt that she rips her gaze away, glancing over. “So that’s your only true vice,” she nods to the joint, “besides breakfast,” she giggles.
“Don’t drink too much,” I warn. “Red wine has a way of sneaking up on you.”
“Iamfeeling a little tingly,” she admits.
“I don’t fuck the unconscious,” I warn.
“Wow,” her eyes widen in mock surprise, “such a gentleman,” she muses before grabbing another eyeful of the landscape. “You know, for a guy who thinks romance is a gimmick, this is pretty incredible.”
“Not a gimmick, just not—”
“—something that interests you, yeah, yeah, heard you loud and clear the first time. At least we’re past the fuck-you-eyes and grunting stage,” she jests as I give her a warning look.
“Oh, nope, seems we’veregressed,” she giggles again.
