Enough trauma.
Enough confusion and rage and fear.
I want normal and this … none of this is normal. Neither the bad nor the good.
Ethan moves against me in his sleep, his hand curving around my waist, pulling me into his body, into his heart. And I forget for a little while what it is I want and concentrate instead on what I have.
Because Ethan is enough. Ethan is more than enough. As long as I concentrate on that, the rest of this stuff can take care of itself.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Thanks again, Rodrigo!” I say as I climb a little unsteadily out of the passenger side of one of the vineyard trucks.
“No problem, Senorita Chloe. Call me if you need anything else.”
“I will. But I think I’m good. You have a good night! Give that beautiful toddler of yours a kiss for me.”
He laughs, blushes a little. “Si. I will, I will. My little Padma will love it! Her mother says she’s talked about nothing but you since she met you this morning.”
“Well, that’s only fair, since I’ve spent a good part of the day talking about her, as well. She’s such a lovely child.”
“Si, si. I definitely think there is a mutual admiration society going on between the two of you.”
“There is at that,” I tell him with another wave as I stumble toward the front steps.
“Are you okay, Senorita Chloe?” Rodrigo calls. “Do you need help into the house?”
“No, I’m good. I’m good.” I wave him away. “Just a little tipsy.”
Then again, tipsy might be an understatement. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might actually be really, really drunk. Though I swear, I’m not exactly sure how it happened. One minute I was having a good time at the wine tasting, listening to Lucia expound with enthusiasm on the various types of red wines Ethan’s vineyard is known for.
She was very excited about a full-bodied cabernet, which was a little too dry for me. But the pinot noir she poured for me was as fantastic as Ethan promised. As was the house blend of reds and a couple of others that I lost track of somewhere along the line.
The typical wine tasting consists of four small glasses of wine, but being the vineyard owner’s girlfriend comes with some perks, I guess, because it seems like I had at least double that. Maybe more. All I know is I tried a lot of wine today, including a delicious moscato. I bought several bottles of it—or should I say, accepted them as a gift, take that Ethan Frost—and can’t wait to show them to Tori. If there’s anyone who likes sparkling wines more than I do, it’s that girl.
Drunk, happy, more than a little in love, I all but float into the house determined to find Ethan—and maybe convince him to have a short middle-of-the-afternoon nap with me. After a not-so-short middle-of-the-afternoon lovemaking session …
I have to admit, just the thought of finding Ethan in the middle of some boring business call and dragging him off to bed makes me more than a little horny. Then again, it could be the wine. Or the fact that I am totally relaxed for the first time in longer than I can remember. Whatever it is, it feels good and I plan on going with it. The real world will intrude soon enough.
It’s our fourth day in Napa and while the forest fires are finally getting contained in San Diego—after burning hundreds of thousands of acres that included businesses, homes and even part of the famous Safari Park—Ethan has decreed that we don’t have to leave until Sunday. Which means we’ve got two more glorious days up here. Two days that I plan on taking full advantage of.
Humming, this time out of happiness rather than a determination not to think, I make my way down the front hall to Ethan’s office. He’s spent pretty much every minute with me since we got here, but this afternoon he had some calls to take care of—Trifecta merger type calls—so he got Rodrigo to babysit me. He called it showing me around the vineyard, but I know a babysitter when I see one.
I probably would have been insulted if Rodrigo, his wife, Lucia, and their daughter, Padma, hadn’t been such delightful company. But they were—so happy and charming and nice, so nice—that I couldn’t do anything but enjoy spending time with them.
And now I’m back and tipsy—or drunk, depending on how you want to look at it—and horny. If I’m very lucky, Ethan will be willing to take advantage of the second in order to do something about the third.
Except when I get to Ethan’s office, he’s not there. He’s not in our bedroom, either, or out on the patio taking a call as he often likes to do. He’s not in the kitchen or the family room or the upstairs media room. In fact, he’s not in any of the places I’ve seen him frequent since we got here and I’m beginning to think I missed my chance. That he’s gone on some business errand and I’ll have to spend the rest of the afternoon amusing myself.
Suddenly, everything seems just a little dimmer, a little less sparkly.
I want Ethan.
Pulling out my phone, I text him a quick, Where are you, then wait impatiently for an answer that doesn’t come. Which is strange—unless he’s in the middle of something really, really important, Ethan never ignores a text from me.
I’m not too alarmed yet—how can I be when we’re in Napa and everything is beautiful? He’s probably just on a business call that he can’t break away from. Or in a meeting where it would be rude to pull out his phone to check it.
That’s all it is, I assure myself as I make my way back to the kitchen. While I’m enjoying the wine buzz, I should probably have a little food to help soak it up. Especially if Ethan’s not around to put the buzz to good use.