His Princess - Stacy Gail Page 0,27
again as they pulled up to what was clearly the main house, complete with a wide porte-cochere, the air perfumed with the thriving bougainvillea climbing riotously over the thick pillars holding up the porte-cochere’s roof.
“Welcome to Tilted Windmill Vineyard.” A fifties-something woman came out to greet them with a couple teenagers in matching Tilted Windmill polo shirts. “Are you Augustus Bloch?”
“That’s me,” Gus nodded while coming around to open Joelle’s door.
“Wonderful! You’re right on time. My son Brendon here will take your luggage to your bungalow. Would you like to take a few minutes to settle in first, or would you prefer to be shown to your table straight away? Everything is as you requested, and is waiting for the two of you.”
Gus, who’d slung an arm around Joelle’s shoulders, looked at her with raised brows. “Your choice, my lady. You hungry?”
“Starving.” Besides, who wanted to be stuffed away in a boring hotel room when there was so much to see?
“That settles it. Table it is.”
Within a handful of minutes, they were led around a multi-leveled patio, with several wrought iron tables and chairs. Joelle assumed they would be shown to one of those tables, but to her surprise they continued on to a meticulously maintained cinder path that eventually wound its way to a whitewashed gazebo on the edge of the hill.
“This is where weddings are usually conducted, thanks to the view.” Their young guide smiled shyly as she made a welcoming gesture toward the white linen-covered table, a candle burning in a mini hurricane lamp set as its centerpiece, along with a small bouquet of freshly cut flowers placed on each of the gilded charger plates. Off to one side, a decanted bottle of wine sat waiting for their attention, and the faint breeze carried the lush scents of flowers and eucalyptus. “I’ve always thought that this exact spot is the happiest place in the whole valley. I hope you’ll think so, too.”
“I think she’s right,” Joelle managed after the girl left, all but dumbstruck as Gus led her to a chair before sitting across from her. “And forget the valley. I can’t imagine there’s a place on earth that’s more perfect than where we are right now. I mean, just look at the view we have of the valley from up here.”
“I’m looking. Just not at the grapes.”
She tore her attention away from the rolling hills, awash in late afternoon sun and covered in neat rows of grapevines, to Gus. The deep, russet-tinged brown of his eyes seemed softer in the golden glow of the sun as he stared at her like she was the only true natural beauty he wanted to see. “You really are good with the smooth talk, you know that?”
“It’s easy to be smooth when you’re talking truth. Wine?” he added, reaching for the bottle.
“Absolutely. That’s what we came here for, right?”
“Among other things.” With a smile, he poured a couple fingers’ worth into their long-stemmed glasses, then raised his glass to hers. “This is that Malbec stuff you said made your taste buds dance with joy, so you should know right now I’ve got high expectations.”
“As long as you don’t call it fermented grape juice, I’ll be happy.” With a laugh, she clinked her glass to his, took a moment to breathe in the wine’s exquisite bouquet, then sipped savoringly.
Ahhhh.
Looking out at where this wine had been birthed, it was no wonder it tasted like laughter and sunshine in a glass.
“I think you’ve probably realized by now that I was the teeniest bit pampered before my parents died,” she said after a minute, while her taste buds did their best to dance with joy. “But not even they ever pulled off something this over-the-top thoughtful. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness.”
“Stop right there,” he said, then leaned back in his seat when two servers appeared, one with a breadbasket and water pitcher, the other with salads. When they were alone once more, he ignored the food in front of him to instead give her a scowl. “I thought you had high-society manners. You’re not supposed to pay people back when they decide to do nice shit for you. That’s like asking how much a gift cost.”
“You’re right, and shame on me for clumsily wording what I meant to say.” Calmly, she draped her napkin across her lap and began picking through her salad. “What I meant to say is that I’ll always treasure your