He began to thrust.
I let out a high-pitched gasp at the sudden, intense pleasure and ran my hands down his back to end at his ass, relishing the hard feel of his working muscles under my palms. We moved together, like sensual poetry, the pleasure building higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go except over the edge. I cried out, blissful spasms wracking my body as distantly, I heard Grayson grunt his own climax, his hips making two last clumsy thrusts as he came, shuddering and then breathing harshly into the crook of my neck. The world was suddenly still as I floated back to earth, Grayson's ragged breath slowing against my skin. The clouds floated lazily above, birds cried out in the surrounding trees, and my husband's heart beat against my own. And it felt as if the world was only filled with beauty.
"What other lessons can I look forward to as a winemaker's wife?" I asked breathlessly. Grayson laughed against my skin.
"Oh, I have lots of teaching to do. That's only the very beginning." He rolled off me and kissed me once more, smiling against my mouth. I shivered slightly in the crisp air, and we sat up and pulled on our clothes. Grayson took out a thermos of coffee, Charlotte's cranberry orange muffins, and a plastic container of strawberries. We ate our picnic breakfast together, laughing and chatting, and if there was happiness greater than this, I thought, I couldn't imagine what it was.
**********
The next afternoon, the rain came down. It drummed on the window, painting the outside world in misty watercolors. I sat in Grayson's office, staring out at the oak trees and the front gates beyond, the printouts of accounting records spread out on the clean desk before me. I'd organized his office, and now everything had a place, whether it was in a file folder labeled neatly in his bottom desk drawer or in one of the stacked paper trays sitting on top of his desk. As I stood up, Sugie chuffed at my feet and yawned.
"Stay here, girl," I soothed. "I'll be right back."
I found Charlotte and Walter in the kitchen, sitting next to each other at the large dining table, a cup of tea in front of them both.
"Oh hello, dear. Would you like to join us for a cup? The temperature has really dropped today."
"Sure. But I'll get a mug. You stay there," I told Charlotte distractedly when she began to stand. I sat down at the table, holding my cup toward Charlotte as she poured from the pot already on the table. Thanking her, I put my hands around the warm mug and let the heat seep into my skin.
"Are you all right?" Charlotte asked, a note of worry in her tone. "Is everything okay with you and Gray? It seems like—"
"Yes, everything's fine with us." I smiled. "Better than fine." I worried my lip. "It's something else." I looked back and forth between Charlotte and Walter, not wanting to put into words what I suspected, but knowing I had to.
"What is it?" Charlotte asked. She and Walter had seemed to become very still.
"I've been inspecting the old accounting records and it seems . . . well, it seems as if Ford Hawthorn purposefully ran this vineyard into the ground. Is that even possible?" I whispered. Charlotte and Walter glanced at each other, their expressions grim.
"You mustn't tell Grayson what you've discovered," Charlotte said. "I'm not generally in favor of withholding the truth, but . . . he's suffered enough at his father's hands and this . . . it would destroy him. Maybe someday . . . I think we'll know when the time is right, but not now. He's only just begun to heal."