Six months later
Paris
I WANTED TO freeze time.
Sitting out at the gazebo with a pitcher of lemonade, I was talking to Wilhelmina about the pros and cons of naming the baby Tyler Justin Ryan Holiday, IV when Tyler Justin Ryan Holiday, III came speeding down the valley in the red pickup beeping his horn.
Wilhelmina got to her feet. “What on earth is the matter?” she shouted to him as he got out.
I set my glass down and shielded my eyes from the setting sun. I wasn’t worried. He loved that truck so much, he seemed to always be making a show of driving it around the property whenever he could.
Yanking the tailgate down, he marched over to us. He kissed Wilhelmina on the cheek. “Nothing is the matter, old lady,” he told her and then took a step and leaned down to kiss me on the lips.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he said back. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“At least you’re in time for the sunset.”
He bent down to kiss the baby in my belly. “I know. That’s why I was rushing.”
When he started to untie my Converse sneakers and then took them off me, I thought he’d lost his mind with the whole barefoot and pregnant thing.
“What is going on?” I quipped.
Nonchalant-like, he dropped a blindfold on my protruding belly.
I raised a brow and Wilhelmina cleared her throat. “Should I leave?”
Tyler laughed. “Nothing kinky, gran-gran, I promise. Not this time, anyway.”
That had me blush a thousand shades of pink.
“Come on, Love,” he said, and tugged me from my seat.
After he wrapped the piece of silk around my eyes, he took my hand. “Follow me.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He guided me down the steps and over to his truck. “Patience,” he drawled in that sexy voice that did silly things to me.
Still, I had to laugh at that. He was one to talk. Moments later I heard some scratching of metal and the sound of him grunting.
What in the world?
“Okay,” he said, “Now lift one foot as if you were going to take a step into the bathtub and then set it down.”
“Tyler,” I protested.
“Trust me,” he said, and I did, so I followed his instructions. As soon as my bare toes hit the soft surface, I knew immediately what I was doing. “Oh, my, God,” I shrieked in glee and yanked my blindfold off.
“Where did you get these already?”
His smirk was arrogant and I loved it. “Gable’s property has two vineyards ready for early harvest.”
We’d taken Vince Gable to court and proved he’d altered the property lines illegally. That wasn’t how we’d gotten his property, though. We’d been awarded the original plat boundaries and refused to allow him access to the highway once we had. It took Vince four months to beg us to buy the land sandwiched between ours.
Tyler and I didn’t have the money but it turned out Tabitha was looking for an investment. She’d come into her giant trust fund and wanted something to occupy her. Projects. She was all about projects. And this was a big one.
Now Highway Jane is five hundred acres and one of the biggest wineries in the valley with two attorneys on the board, I might add.
This business was never getting screwed again.
I looked down just as Tyler was whipping his beat-up combat boots off and watched as he stepped in beside me.
The metal tin was filled with red grapes and as soon as Tyler took my hand, I started stomping like a child, moving my knees up and down. I smiled as the skins squished between my toes and my husband stood by my side, sharing in my joy.
This was him.
This was me.
Our grapes. Our wine. Our vineyards.
This was our life.
And it was a good one.
Great one.
The best one.
Then again, we had been lucky. Doing what most people can’t, we had been able to rewind time and get back what we’d once had.
I’d go as far as to say, we’d reWined our lives.
Wouldn’t you? ;)