AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If he’d asked me this question yesterday, I would’ve respectfully said no. But if what Will says about my mom is true, then I need to start looking for her. Unfortunately, I can only do that when I’m asleep.
In the meantime, I guess I have nothing better to do with my days.
“Sure,” I tell him. “I’ll take it.”
“Excellent.” He seems surprised by how easily I agreed to the whole thing. “Keema knows you’re my first choice so she hasn’t posted the position. You can start today.”
I spend the majority of my first day working the tasting rooms, collecting dirty wineglasses, and scraping crusted cheese off of wooden boards. At the end of my shift, Keema hands me a packet of information about each wine and tells me to memorize it.
Before I can blink, a week has passed, and I can confidently recite the differences between a Cabernet and a Merlot.
Working at the winery isn’t as boring as I thought it would be. Chastity almost never deigns to come out here, and Edward pays me in cash, so he doesn’t have to worry about the fact that I’m underaged. There’s always plenty of extra cheese and prosciutto to go around and getting to meet new people every day is a nice distraction. Keema’s a really great boss, too. She’s hardworking, but not a hard ass. And it’s nice to have someone friendly to talk to during work hours.
In my dreams, Will and I explore the property, and he helps me look for my mother.
So far, we’ve found no sign of her.
After the first couple of nights, I began to worry Will might be mistaken about her presence here. Then I wondered if he was lying about it altogether.
“Are you just telling me she’s here so I won’t go home?” I asked him one night after we’d searched the winery a third time.
He eyed me with a curious expression. “Now why would I do that?”
I didn’t want to say what I was thinking. That maybe he wants me around because he’s lonely, or because he likes me as more than a friend. That maybe these nights we’ve been spending together, lounging in the grass, dancing chest to chest, circling the grounds a hundred times, have inspired more than a fondness for each other.
I’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at me, like I’m some kind of marvel. And he’d have to be oblivious not to notice the way my breathing changes whenever he touches me. I love the way he touches me, like the simple act of our skin making contact is a miracle.
For the first time in over a year, I feel like I’ve stumbled upon a small, fragile sliver of hope. I have a day job I don’t hate on the most beautiful property I’ve ever stayed on, and I look forward to seeing Will every night.
On my tenth night at the estate, he took me to see the horses.
At first, they were skittish. Only one of them came over to investigate, a gorgeous brown boy with a black mane. Will whispered to him and stroked his flank. I asked how he was able to touch them, when he couldn’t touch anything else—besides me. He said animals are grounded spirits, part of the land in intrinsic ways that people are not.
After a few minutes of trust building, the brown horse let Will climb onto his back.
The sight of Will straddling a horse made me want to rub my thighs together. It was like watching an old painting come to life. A soldier riding into battle, or a knight on his trusty steed. His body was made for combat.
He trotted the horse over to me and then pulled me up to sit between his thighs. I prayed he was too distracted to hear my gasp as his arm went around my middle.
“Hold onto his mane,” he said.
We rode from one side of the vineyard to the other and back again, the horse’s rhythm doing wonderful things to the sensitive parts between my legs. I imagined Will’s hands slipping under my shirt to cup my breasts. The fantasy alone was almost enough to make me come right there on the horse, with Will’s chest at my back. His arm tightened around my waist, and I swear I felt the whisper of tiny pinpricks scraping my bare shoulder where my oversized shirt had slipped.
When it began to rain, Will climbed off the horse first and then helped me to the ground. My body felt so warm, I expected to see steam rising from it. Will’s eyes glowed brightly, bordered by rain-soaked lashes. He looked beautiful with droplets streaming down his face.
I wanted to kiss him so badly.
His hands remained braced around my ribcage, and I longed to know how they would feel under my wet clothes. The first time we slow danced, it was like we were striking flint against steel. Being that close to him, feeling the sturdiness of his body, ignited a spark that started a fire inside me that hasn’t stopped burning.
I dated a little in high school, but I’ve never had sex. For the longest time, it’s just been me and my own fingers for company.
These days, I can’t fall into bed without immediately reaching for my clit. And when I do, it’s Will’s face, his body, his mouth that I picture. I want to strip him down and pour myself all over him. But as fascinated by me as he seems, I can’t assume he wants me with the same intensity.
I’ve given him every opportunity to kiss me, but he hasn’t made a move. Instead of pulling me closer, he lets go, reaching for my hand as we set off in search of my mother’s ghost or move on to some other family-friendly activity.
Sometimes we sit by the fire in the library and read. We talk about books and read passages from our favorites. He asks about my life back in Baltimore, and I listen as he tells me stories about fighting alongside King Henry V in the Hundred Years’ War.
Will insists he’s not a ghost, but what else could he be? Either he really has been dead for five hundred years, and his spirit somehow found its way to Red Cliff, or he died sixty years ago and dreamed up a history for himself that he can’t escape from.
