Where Sea Meets Sky (30 page)

“Guys,” I say as I slow Mr. Orange down so a car from behind can overtake us. “It’s Christmas in two days.”

Amber laughs from the back. “Are you serious?”

I look at Josh and he looks mystified. “Wow,” he says, “it does not feel like it
at all
. How can you deal with having Christmas in the summer?”

“Well, we have a thing called Christmas on the beach and it’s awesome,” I tell him. “It’s also a song.” I sing a few silly notes of it. “Which isn’t so awesome.”

Josh grins at me and places a large, warm hand on my bare thigh. “You could sing anything and it would sound good,” he says earnestly and gives my leg a squeeze.

“Ugh,” Amber calls from the back. “You guys make me sick.”

I eye her sharply in the mirror. This makes her sick? Does she have any idea how hard it’s been not to fuck Josh senseless in front of her? Yesterday when Josh invited me to take a shower with him, I was
this
close to going. The only thing that held me back was the fact that Amber was listening.

And yet him putting his hand on my thigh and paying me a compliment grosses her out? Yeesh.

“You think that’s bad,” Josh says to her over his shoulder, “just imagine all the things I’m going to do to her tonight.”

I can’t help but laugh. Leave it to Josh not to beat around the bush.

It doesn’t take long before we’re motoring past the vineyards of the Hawkes Bay area, heading toward the city of Napier, my home. Actually, the vineyard is a little north of the city and I find myself growing both relaxed and nervous with each kilometer we pass.

Relaxed because the bright, wide sky above us and the rolling green farms in the area will always be home to me, even though it holds a lot of difficult memories. Nervous because I’m not sure how Josh is going to react to my family or how they’re going to react to him. The last they knew I was seeing Nick, I had a job lined up, and everything was in order.

My mother thrives on order. It’s one of the reasons why she’s been able to run the vineyard so successfully, especially after Dad died and our lives were thrown into turmoil. But where she thrives on order, it also means she doesn’t allow for a lot of mistakes. She’s hard on me but hard on herself, too. Even though she’s closed off and reserved, we’ve made a lot of progress over the years. Believe me, I have the hours of therapy to prove it.

Still, I’m going to assume she won’t be happy about leaving someone like Nick, who has it all, and being with someone like Josh, who . . . well, doesn’t have it in quite the way she expects. I’m starting to think it would be best to keep our . . . whatever this is . . . under wraps, at least at first.

My Auntie Jolinda, who runs the vineyard with my mom, will take to him like a fat kid to cake, though. I warn him about her.

“My aunt is a cheek-pincher,” I tell him as we pass the airport and beaches, “and not the ones on your face.”

He grins. “Those are my favorite kind of aunts. Is she hot?”

I give him a look. Not funny.

Soon the vineyards and orchards grow more vast and I’m pulling off the highway down a dirt road, past a sign my dad painted:
HENARE WINES
.

We bounce down the road for a bit among the rows and rows of pinot gris and sauvignon blanc grapes, then come to a stop outside the barn where the barrels are kept. I park Mr. Orange next to the beat-up old truck of Jez, our winemaker.

I turn to Josh and Amber and say, “Well, this is it.”

It’s like he notices I’m nervous because he briefly grabs my hand gives it a squeeze. But he lets go and I think he knows not to act all PDA going forward. I breathe a sigh of relief and then step out.

The last time I was here was in the winter and everything had a look of cold death about it. Now the rows of grapes are young and bright green and the barn has a fresh stain on the gray-brown wood. Tibetan prayer flags hang between it and the house, remnants of my father; he was very earthy, very spiritual. My mother took them all down except for these ones.

The gravel of the driveway crunches under our feet as we walk to the front door, and before we can get close, it swings open and out comes my mom and my aunt.

My mother’s smile is warm as she looks at us, although it falters for a moment at the sight of Josh. I keep forgetting he’s this big, tall dude with tattoos and dangerous looks, nearly the opposite of what she expects from me.

“Gemma,” she says, her voice light and airy. She gives me a hug, which generally consists of a light embrace and a pat on the back. Her eyes briefly flick to Josh and back to me but I don’t say anything.

She moves on to Amber. “My, my, Amber,” she says and embraces her the same way. That’s just the way my mom hugs. “I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.”

“Hi Aunt Justine,” she says brightly.

My mom smiles and then rests her eyes on Josh. “And is this your boyfriend, Amber?”

Josh steps forward, his hand out. “Uh, no. I’m just a friend. My name is Josh.”

“Oh,” my mother says, looking to me in surprise as she shakes his hand. “This is the Josh you were telling me about, the Canadian?”

I nod. “Yes, Mum, this is Josh. I still hope it’s okay that he spends Christmas with us.”

“Of course,” she says without hesitating. She’s nothing if not polite. “Your uncle Jeremy is coming over tonight with Keri and Kam. They’ll leave on Boxing Day, so if you three don’t mind sharing a room for a few nights . . .”

Inwardly, I groan. Loudly. But I smile at my mom. “That’s fine, we’re used to it.” To get off the subject I look at my Auntie Jolinda hovering behind my mother. “Hey Auntie Jo!” I say, holding my arms out for the big hug I know is coming.

Auntie Jolinda isn’t hot in the way that Josh was asking about. She’s from my father’s side, as are most of my aunts and uncles, so she’s got dark, sturdy looks, as we all do. But she’s round-faced and has the prettiest greenstone-colored eyes and has a way of making you feel loved.

She pulls me into an embrace. “Gemma,” she says happily. Like my mom, she’s quiet and conserves her words but she doesn’t have to say much to get a feeling across.

She strokes my cheek fondly and then lights up at the sight of Josh. I have to bite my lip from laughing as she goes for him. Thankfully she only hugs him hard and doesn’t grab his butt, but I’ll have to keep an eye on her after a few glasses of wine. Not that I can blame the woman. Josh has the best ass to pinch.

“I thought Nick was with you, Gemma,” my mother says suddenly.

Amber, Josh, and I exchange the subtlest of glances before I put an appeasing smile on for her. “He went back to Sydney early,” I say, which for all I know could be true.

To my surprise, she doesn’t look disappointed. “No worries,” she says, “that’s one less person to eat Uncle Jeremy’s famous kumara slices.”

“Oh, kumara,” Josh says excitedly. Of all the Kiwi things he’s picked up on this trip, eating kumara—a type of sweet potato—and dipping it into sour cream and sweet chili sauce has become his favorite. That, and doing me, I guess.

We go back to Mr. Orange and haul our packs into the house and up the stairs to my old room. As usual, the house is immaculate but it still has this rustic, homey vibe. It’s very much a Kiwi farmhouse, with wainscoting and rugged brown boards in all the right places and smooth finished wood in others.

“This is an awesome house,” Amber says. “My parents’ house is so boring and stucco. Total subdivision banality.”

I lead them down to my room. It’s quite large and has enough space for my queen bed and an air mattress or two on the floor. One wall is entirely devoted to sports medals and ribbons. Football, field hockey, women’s rugby, netball, tennis—I’ve done them all.

Josh marvels at them, mouthing the names and dates of the competitions. “Wow, Gemma, you really like to whack balls around don’t you.”

“I like them better in my mouth,” I answer smartly. It brings out another annoyed groan from Amber.

“Seriously. You. Guys.”

I stick my tongue out at her and place my backpack by the bed, opening my window. The view here is always beautiful. My room looks out onto the back vineyard and a dirt road that runs along the property all the way to the beach. I can see the holiday baches and Norfolk pines that line the bright blue ocean.

“Your view growing up was a lot better than mine,” Josh says behind me, pushing my hair over my shoulder and kissing my neck. I close my eyes and melt into his touch.

“Hey, can we take a tour of the vineyards or something?” Amber asks.

I turn around and eye her. “Sure, but don’t you have, like, Napa Valley by you?”

She ties her curly hair back into a braid. “It’s not exactly nearby,” she says. “Besides, I’ve been in the bus all day. I’d like some fresh air before I stuff myself with what smells like amazing cooking.”

I nod and bring them outside. I lead them down a path lined with cabbage trees as it winds over to the vines. I can see Jez, his blue ball cap poking up way in the distance.

There isn’t much for me to point out. We’re a boutique winery and we’re not open for tastings or anything touristy yet, so it’s just the vines for acres and acres. We grow three types of grapes and would like to do more than pinot noir in the red department but the land doesn’t quite get hot enough, except on the south end of the small rise near the edge of the property. But my parents started it back when my father was a struggling artist and, throughout the years, either the winery kept the art afloat or the art kept the winery afloat.

The money that my father left behind, thanks to what my mother calls carefully selected stocks, has kept this place going, and the winery even flourishes, depending on the year. It’s a good life. There was a moment there after his death when I thought my mom was going to pack it up, but with Auntie Jolinda’s help and Jez staying on as winemaker, it’s still going strong.

I only wish I liked winemaking—or, really, wine in general—enough to want to be a part of it. Give me a brewery any day.

When we get to the crest of the low hill and can see over the vines to Hawkes Bay, Port of Napier, and the rolling hills on the other side of Highway 2, Amber decides she’s had enough.

“Want us to come with you?” I ask and she shakes her head and says she wants to use the washroom. We watch her blond head pass along the vines as she goes back to the house. I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s leaving on purpose. Seeing as we don’t have a lot of privacy here, I could kiss her for it. Sometimes she really is the best cousin ever.

I start wondering what I should buy her for Christmas—hell, what I should buy Josh—when I feel his arms slip around my stomach, embracing me from behind. In the distance I can see plumes of dust rising from the long driveway, meaning Uncle Jeremy and his eight- and eleven-year-old kids will be here any moment. But out on this hill, surrounded by undulating green, it feels like we have eternity.

Josh kisses the rim of my earlobe, his lips pausing by my ear. “Can you remember the last time we were alone like this?”

I can’t quell the excitement growing inside me. My hormones start to alight, starting off as flames and growing into Roman candles.

“I think the last time we were alone, you were fucking me against a tree,” I say, almost whispering, as if my voice could scare him off.

“No trees here,” he murmurs and presses his erection into my ass. “Only wood.”

I grin at that but it melts away into hazy lust. I can’t stand it. I turn around to face him and he grabs me, kissing me hard. I match his intensity, hot, hot, hot to the touch. His tongue, his lips, his mouth, they’re all sparks to fuel the fire. He kisses me like he’s addicted, needing his fix, and I can only respond in kind. The more he fucks my tongue with his, licks my neck, bites at my collarbone, the more I think I might spontaneously combust.

His fingers deftly undo my shorts and slide down into my underwear. He inhales sharply when he feels how wet I already am, but he must know by now what affect he has on me. He pushes a finger in deep, then two, then three.

I groan and my neck falls back, like my head is too heavy to hold up. I just want to submit and have him do terrible, dirty things to me here among the grapevines. I want him inside me, hard and fast or slow and deliberate—I don’t care.

But then I find myself pulling away from his hand just when his other is slipping under my T-shirt. I drop to my knees, feeling the soft, cool earth beneath me, and reach up for his zipper. I glance up at him with mischievous eyes and he bites his lip before grabbing the hair at the back of my head in a tight fist.

It hurts but it’s a good hurt. He’s the master of hair-pulling. I slowly, teasingly unzip his fly, then pull his jeans down bit by bit. Once they drop to his ankles, I do the same to his boxer briefs, until his cock is free and jutting out in front of me. It really is a beautiful sight and I find myself marveling at it for a few moments. In the pool room at the house party, in his room, by the road in Le Bons Bay, I never really had the best look. His cock is as flawless as it feels between my hands, hot, silky steel.

I take a firm hold around his shaft, holding him taut as I lick a path up and down him, from base to shiny, swollen tip. His fist in my hair tightens and he moans. “Oh fuck.”

I smile and continue. The sound of his pleasure only adds to mine. I go from slow to fast and back again, and before long he has both of his hands at the back of my head and he’s fucking my mouth, his hips slamming into my lips in controlled movements. I try and let my lips and tongue be all he feels, but occasionally my tooth razes him; it only seems to turn him on more. Just when I think he’s about to shoot his load down my throat, he pulls my head back and his wet cock bobs out of my mouth.

Somewhere in the distance I can hear voices, my family, but they’re of no consequence. Josh tears his eyes away from mine and glances lazily at the horizon. When he looks back to me, a languid smile stretches across his face.

“They might start looking for us,” he says, “if we give them something to look for.”

Suddenly he crouches down behind me so that we’re both hidden and pushes his hand between my shoulder blades so I’m on my hands as well as knees. He pulls me by the hips so my back arches and slides my shorts down over my ass and thighs.