Sunday—March 29, 2020

We ride out past the winery and various other buildings I've seen on the route up to the big house. I've also seen the neat rows of vines, but it's always been a distant view of green grassy hills lined with brown. But no more. Edward directs the cart directly toward the tangled rows, and when we reach them, he turns between the first two.

Slowing, he nods toward the vines. "You see that?" He points to the tiny green that's protruding from the brown. "The buds are about to break. If we're lucky, some have already started. It's a fascinating process."

In a hurry now, he guns the cart while keeping his eyes peeled. He's on a mission, looking for something in particular. The joy and excitement coming from him is contagious, and I eagerly join the search, even though I'm not quite sure what we're looking for.

Three rows later, after going up one and down another, he slams to a stop and jumps off the cart like an excited little boy. "Come on, babe," he calls, motioning me over. "Check this out."

His enthusiasm is contagious and I hurry over to bend down beside him. He's pointing to another green bud, except this one looks like it's ready to explode. "See this? It's allllmost ready." He moves his finger along the vine to another, except this one has burst open and tiny tendrils are reaching out. "This one probably broke yesterday. Notice how the shoots are only about an inch long? They'll keep growing, and collectively, they'll fill the vines with greenery."

His tone is filled with awe, and I nearly choke up. Not that what he's saying is anything magical or moving, but the reverence in his voice as he speaks of it bowls me over. He loves this place, this job, and I could never take him away from it.

Looks like I'm destined for a life of wine.

I can dig it.

I dig him.

"Edward," I say, and my voice sounds desperate. He notices because he stiffens, his head swiveling in my direction. "I want us to stay." I pause, swallowing down my burning need. "Here. On this vineyard."

He goes from patient to urgent within the blink of an eye, and he's on me, his arms encircling my back and pulling me close. His tongue peeks out and teases my lips, urging them to open and accept him inside. My mind goes fuzzy with his taste and my body sings under his masterful technique.

"Blanket," he murmurs between soft open-mouth passes. "Hurry."

Even as we break apart for him to grab the plaid throw, I don't release him, instead wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and loosening his belt. He groans, and the sound shoots straight to my center, causing the ache between my legs to throb.

"Fuck." He turns in my arms, attacking my lips. The blanket drops to our feet as he reaches for my sweater. "Off," he demands, tugging it up. "All of it."

Clothes fly, landing haphazardly on the grass or across a vine, and neither of us seems to care. We sink to our knees and barely straighten the throw before he flops to his back, and I straddle his trim hips. The franticness is replaced with a moment of quiet softness as he cups my jaw.

"I love you, Bella."

I lift and take him inside, the stretch intensifying the ache in the best way. Under the bright California sun among the vines he loves so much, I show him exactly how much I want to build a life with him.

Here.

On this vineyard.

See you tomorrow :)