Page 65 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

She gives me a sweet smile. “It’s okay. I want to talk to you, too. Can we walk over to the barn?”

“The barn?”

“Yes. I’d like to take a look at it if you don’t mind. I’ve already found a job planning a wedding, and there’s an interest in having the reception here. The barn may be the perfect place.”

I scratch my head in confusion. “Who would want to do that? Wouldn’t the country club be better?”

She wrinkles her nose in that cute way I remember and giggles. Man, I’ve missed her musical laugh. “No! Barns are all the rage for special events. And this is a very special place.” Her voice trails off and she looks away, as if going back in time. “It’s always been a special place.”

“That’s fine. Use it if you want. I just can’t picture it. Maybe you can show me what you mean. It’s likely going to need a lot of work to get it in good enough shape, though.” I suppose it would be great publicity for the winery, and we could use the business. I keep that thought to myself for now.

“Leave that part to me. That is, if I can borrow my father.”

“Of course. It’s probably on his list of things to deal with anyway. So much was neglected by the guy we recently had to let go.”

Once inside the barn, Joselyn lays out her vision. Her enthusiasm is infectious and takes me back to when we were planning our own future together. She stops talking in mid-sentence, catching me staring at her.

“What?”

I reach out and touch a strand of her hair. “Your hair is different.”

“Yes. I got tired of controlling my curls, and I needed a more professional look for work.”

“I like it.” Although I miss burying my hands in those curls and giving them a tug, which never failed to ignite her passion back then. I keep that thought to myself, also.

“You look different, too.” Her hand cups the side of my face, rubbing the scruff of my barely-there beard. Her touch kindles a spark within me that threatens to torch us both if I don’t get us out of here. I don’t think either one of us is ready for that. But I need to talk to her about my idea before she makes me forget what I wanted to say. “Will you sit in the garden with me for a minute?”

“Sure. When I was here the other day looking around, I was drawn to the garden. It brought back so many memories. I never dreamed I would run into you there.”

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you, either. Even though Emma told me you were back in town.”

It seems natural to take her hand in mine. It used to be as natural as breathing. “Let’s sit on my mother’s bench so we can talk.”

We settle into the sanctity of my small piece of paradise, the sounds of nature all around us. I turn to face her, taking her hands in mine. I take a deep breath.Here goes.

“Joselyn, I’ve been thinking about us and wondering how we might rebuild trust. I may know of a way. Have you ever heard the termshibari?”

Her eyes widen, and her breath catches. “I—I have.”

“What do you know about it?”

She looks down, as if gathering her thoughts, then gives me a smile.

“When I was working in Vegas, there was a convention at the hotel. As the event coordinator, I was on hand during demonstrations. I was immediately drawn in to the beauty of the rope designs. The idea of being restrained and surrendering control resonated with me.”

I nod, silently encouraging her to keep talking.

“I wanted to know more. I took some of the educational materials being distributed and studied them. I learned that shibari is not necessarily about sex or for couples, but a form of artistic expression and connection. It can meet many needs. I suppose most people think about its potential to enhance the connection between partners, but I was more interested in connecting with myself. In being able to let go of stress and quiet the noise in my head left over from all of the trauma and drama back here. I spoke with a rope master and his model at length and they explained how shibari could give me those things as long as I participated in an appropriate and safe environment and with an experienced rigger. They recommendedSin City Shibariin Vegas, a club dedicated to rope play, and after one session, I was hooked. It’s been my therapy—my outlet. Since I left Vegas, I haven’t had that. And I haven’t had time to look into it here. I miss it. I need it.”

Mind blown. Never in a million years would I have guessed my sweet Joselyn craves the ropes as much as I do. I want to give her what she needs. As a rope master, it’s my responsibility to give her what she needs. I squeeze her hands, reinforcing our connection.

“Brennen. Why do you ask? What is shibari to you?”

“After you left, I was lost. Broken. Angry. I needed something to calm all of the noise and center me. I needed something that I could control instead of having it control me. And I had no idea what to do about it. I was delivering wine to one of the mansions in Cedar Grove one day. And what I saw there was life changing. The owner had me take the case down to the storage area in the basement. As I was walking down a corridor, I noticed artwork hanging on the walls. Each piece was a stunning display of rope art. Intricate designs and complex poses. I was mesmerized.”

I pause and let out a chuckle. “The owner caught me gawking and we struck up a conversation. His mansion houses a private club and studio. Once he saw that I was truly interested in the art form and not drooling like a horny teenager over naked pictures, he invited me to a demo. When I realized that shibari could help me heal, I was all in. I went to the Shibari School in Miami and studied under Rope Master Gee. Eventually, I became a master rigger. I currently service models and rope bunnies at the private club.”

I’m thrilled to see the excitement in her eyes, encouraging me to continue. And I’m grateful that she understands what shibari is truly about.

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