Page 96 of Love on the Vine
When he saw me, Jake’s entire face lit up, and he held up a cardboard sign with my last name on it. Laughing, I launched myself at him. He spun me around and then kissed me like his life depended on it.
“You’re here.” He smiled against my lips.
“I am.” I stroked his cheek. “I missed you too.”
It had only been a week since Lucie’s wedding, but I’d been overflowing with anticipation to be back in Moustiers. I’d sailed through the week of classes, amazed by what a difference a full heart had made in my mood and my creativity. Even Chef Bernard had noticed, singling me out for praise for mysauce viergeandcabillaud en croûte. The best part of the week though, besides killing it in knife skills and sauces, was finally being able to share the experience with Jake. We talked everynight, sometimes until I fell asleep and woke up with my phone on my pillow, well-rested and content.
Nothing beat having his strong arms around me, though. I squeezed him tighter, burying my nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. “Is this some sort of new vacuum seal technique you’ve learned?” he joked. “Are you trying to press all the air out of my lungs?”
I nodded and rubbed my face into his chest before finally releasing him so he could put my bag in the trunk. Climbing into the soft leather interior of the car, I sighed with pleasure at the familiarity of it all. How many hours had I spent in this car falling in love with him?
Jake slid into the driver’s seat and then bent over to adjust my seat belt, planting another kiss on my lips in the process.
“This is the most unusual car service I’ve ever had,” I murmured against his lips. “Do you kiss all your passengers?”
“Only the ones with forget-me-not eyes.”
“In that case, I insist on screening your future clients.” Jake dimpled again and turned out onto the coastal road, but in the opposite direction of Moustiers.
“Where are you going?” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice. After hours on the train imagining in detail everything I wanted to do to him as soon as we got back home, I was impatient to get to it.
“You’re going to have to wait. I promise I’ll rip your clothes off as soon as we get in the gate.” He grinned at my obvious frustration. “But first I want to show you something.”
“Ooh! I love surprises.” My stomach fluttered.
“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. “Must run in the family.”
“Can I guess what it is?”
“You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be able to figure this one out.” He slid his sunglasses down and shifted gears. I bit my lip. Anticipation could be a real bitch sometimes.
“You reserved a night for us in Saint-Tropez?” I guessed finally, stumbling on the least likely explanation for the detour.
He raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“We’re going on a cruise?”
“Hell no.” He shivered at the prospect, and I made a mental note never to suggest we go on a cruise through the Aegean. Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. “Please don’t tell me you’ve invited people over for the weekend.”
“No,” he said. “I did invite my mom over last weekend, just before the wedding. Again, thanks to you.”
“You did? How was it?” I twined my fingers through his. I would never get used to how perfect they looked together.
“Interesting. She’s learning to cook and is a certified yoga instructor.” He turned off the main road onto a gravel-lined path that was vaguely familiar. “And she’s in a relationship with two people now. A couple from Utrecht. She wants me to come meet them.”
“Really? So all these years she must have been lonely and frustrated. That explains a lot.”
He nodded in agreement. “She admitted she never wanted to be a mother. But she does want to get to know me now that I’m an adult.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? Is that what you want?” I stroked his hand. Renewing his relationship with his mother might be just what he needed to start healing old wounds.
“Strangely, yes, I do.”
As we drove around the next bend in the road, I gasped as Reynaud’s vineyard came into view. I’d never seen it from this perspective, coming from the sea. I stuck my head out to breathe in the familiar air—there was no more lavender, but I could still smell the rosemary and pine. Jake slowed down and pulled in front of the distillation building.
“What are we doing here?” I asked as I stepped out of the car.
“I promised you a harvest, didn’t I?” Jake took my hand and led me toward the open doors of the distillation room where the sound of laughter greeted me. It looked like the whole village had gathered to pick through the grapes. “Technically, the harvest is done, but we’re just getting started with the fermentation.”
