Page 9 of The Vineyard Crush

A bubbly giggle slips free at her adorable tippy-toes mannerisms. “You got it, kiddo. Lunch first, then we can play - sound like a plan?”

Her enthusiastic nodding sends those wild walnut curls bouncing, and I can’t resist pressing a smacking kiss to the crown of her head. Unfortunately, the office kitchen is a sad, bare-bones affair with nothing more alluring than a battered mini-fridge and some stale graham crackers. Definitely not up to discerning toddler standards.

“C’mon, Buttercup,” I hoist her higher onto my hip, relishing her warm weight. “Let’s go raid the big kitchen and see if we can scrounge up some better grub.” Thankfully her hunger dims the spark of my grief over her situation to just a low smolder, overshadowed by her wide-eyed wonderment when I carry her into the industrial-sized cooking quarters.

It takes a bit of creative ferrying and rummaging, but soon I’ve assembled somewhat of a balanced meal: applesauce, string cheese, Ritz crackers, and a banana for dessert. Avery digs in with toddler gusto, smearing the peach goop all over her cheeks and making me laugh until my sides ache. When the last bite is polished off, she claps her sticky hands together and declares gleefully: “Pay! Pay pay!”

“You wanna go play, huh?” I brush the crumbs from her lap and nose affectionately. “Alright, little Miss Impatient. How about I take you to a very fun place that Ethan showed me?”

She bobs her head up and down vigorously, chestnut curls bouncing in sweet disarray. My heart squeezes at her unbridled enthusiasm over even the simplest pleasures. If only the rest of us could view the world through such bright, shiny lenses of pure delight. I text my mom to tell her to take over the reception during my shift that starts in five minutes as I will be at one of the Vats.

Scooping her up, I nuzzle into the powdery warmth of her neck, inhaling that delicious fresh baby scent. “To the vineyards, noble steed! Our quest for merriment awaits!”

Avery dissolves into peals of giggles as I gallop dramatically from the tasting room, jostling her in my arms. The floral headiness of ripening vines washes over us as soon as I breach the towering french doors leading outside. Heat shimmers in wavering mirages over the endless rows of verdant grape leaves, draping their canopies to shelter the deep blue-purple orbs peeking out from tangled clusters.

An earthy, dusty perfume hangs thick in the arid spring air, ripening vines plumped to bursting. I breathe it in greedily, never tiring of this scent that feels as primal as the earth’s very bones - crisp, spicy-green, and ripe with the intoxicating promise of fermentation to come.

Avery squirms restlessly in my arms, clearly nonplussed by my poetic musings. With a soft laugh, I aim us towards the large wooden vat tucked around the side of the main outbuilding. Ethan had shown it to me this morning, explaining how it collects the stemmed grape rejects deemed unsuitable for vintage - blemished orbs and shriveled skins that will go to waste otherwise.

For my purposes today, though, their imperfections are absolutely perfect.

“Come on, buttercup,” I croon, balancing Avery on my hip as I step into the vat, sighing at the sumptuous slide of skins and pulp underfoot.

It takes a few seconds, but then she must decide it feels just peachy because she launches directly into squishing the grapes between her tiny palms with glee. Reckless flecks of deep purple spray in every direction, spattering our clothes and hair with sticky remnants.

“Eeeeeeee!” she shrieks joyfully.

Laughing in delight, I retaliate by flinging a handful of pulpy skins directly at her tummy. A fresh peal of delighted shrieks erupts as she flings her arms wide, positively showering us in a sudsy purple rain.

“Emm…ma!” she gurgles breathlessly, shaking her riotous curls to rid them of stray grape detritus. Then she launches right back into mushing with abandon, lost in the pure childlike bliss of this simple activity.

I can’t resist following suit, stomping and twisting my bare feet into the slick mash, grinding the ripe flesh and pulp through my toes. Swirling kaleidoscopic stains of plum and aubergine blossom and slither across my pale calves, lapping against the hems of my cut-off shorts.

An involuntary shiver ripples through me at the weird wet friction, as I add my own raucous shrieks and cackles. I’ve never felt so free, so untamed, as I do surrender to this fun messy ritual. Every anxiety, every grown-up care evaporates as I lose myself to the purely hedonistic joy of squishy grapes and Avery’s rosebud laughter.

At some point, the back door crashes open and heavy footsteps thud across the crushed gravel. “What’s all the commotion out here?” Ethan calls, sounding more amused than irritated as he comes around the corner.

“Et’an! Et’an!” Avery shrieks gleefully upon spotting him.

Grinning, Ethan hops up onto the vat’s edge, booted feet dangling into the slick mess. “Well, don’t mind if I do join the party.”

With that, he vaults himself in, sending a tidal wave of pulpy juice sloshing over us. I shriek as the icy shock of sugary sweet must rains down, only to quickly dissolve into helpless laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Ethan comes up spluttering, hair dripping in sticky rivulets down his forehead.

“Having fun there, short stack?” he teases, stooping to scoop up a fat handful of grapes to wing directly at me.

I duck just in time, the gloppy mass whizzing harmlessly past to explode in a thick splatter right across the oncoming solid wall of muscle behind me.

“What in the name of holy hell is going on here?” a low, gravelly baritone growls in a tone that instantly liquifies my insides.

Ridge.

Five

Ridge

After dropping Avery off at the vineyard, I spent the morning doing chores around the ranch. The work got done faster today without having to check on Avery every few minutes. My mom was picking up Lily and Cody later, and they were going to spend the night at her place since it was a holiday tomorrow.

Once the ranch work was taken care of, I grabbed a quick burrito for lunch while going over some paperwork. After that, I cleaned up around the house picking up the scattered toys and books, placing them back where the belong. That’s when I got a text from Ethan.

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