2. Vines of Passion

CALEB

Like a twisted rom-com where divine timing plays cupid, the woman before me and this moment, could only be described as serendipity's finest work.

There she sat, a vision of surprise and beauty, locking eyes with mine in a moment so unexpected, it nearly coaxed the laughter from my lips. In that instant as I looked at the woman I feared I’d lost forever, I silently whispered a prayer of gratitude to The Big Man Upstairs, thanking him for bringing her back to me.

I didn’t anticipate walking up that morning without Lisa in my arms, though as I now stood before her, I realized that wasn’t even her name. The bed I’d shared with her was vacant of her presence, haunted by the ghost of her laughter and her warmth. The reality was as cold as the sheets beside me; I had no means to find her — no phone number, no social media, no idea where she was staying in town, just a generic first name.

How the Hell was I gonna find someone named, Lisa?

The day I met her had been consumed by the weighty deliberations over the fate of The Thompson Vineyard, discussions with my parents that left me seeking solace in the bottom of a glass off our property. Benny's Bistro, with its comforting familiarity nestled on the first floor of The Wave Hotel, served as my refuge, and on occasion, my makeshift office.

It was there, amidst the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation, that I first saw her. Cloaked in the richness of caramel skin, her beauty was accentuated by the playful dance of cotton candy curls and coils framing her face. The sight of her, so engrossed in her phone, yet oblivious to the world around her, stole my breath away. Fate, it seemed, had reserved the seat beside her just for me.

Our conversation flowed as easily as the wine Brandon kept coming, she was smart, funny, filled with stories and also proved to be a great listener. Her suggestion to leave together felt like a reward from a previous life, a karmic gift for things I hadn’t even realized I’d done.

Sex with her was a potent mix of passion and tenderness. I cradled her gently, almost fearful that she might shatter under the intensity of my touch, her sensitivity evident in every quiver and sigh. Beneath her sharp wit and sarcasm, I glimpsed her vulnerability in those intimate moments.

She carried pain, hidden scars. Was that what brought her to this town? A need to flee from something, or someone? Was I just a momentary escape for her? I pushed those troubling thoughts away, focusing on the feel of her beneath me, and around me.

Her arousal soaked my sheets as her cries for me kept me grounded in the moment. The feel of her bright orange finger nails digging in my back as her legs squeezed around my waist, them in my hair as she looked down at me while her heels dug into my shoulders as I ate the sweet and damp fruit between her thighs, I found myself trying to etch each second into my memory, not wanting to let go of a single detail of the time spent with this extraordinary woman I had found on the most ordinary day.

And then, just as quickly as she had entered my world, she was gone, leaving me with nothing but the echo of our shared ecstasy.

I found myself praying that morning, an earnest plea to the heavens to bring her back. Yea, the sex was undeniable, but it was more than that. The ease of our conversation, the undeniable connection we shared, it all felt too precious to let go of just yet. I made a silent vow, promising to be a better man, more obedient to the paths laid out before me, if only she would return.

Although I tried to believe my prayer was enough, part of me was ready to turn the world upside down to find her. I hit up Brandon at Benny’s, trying to get a lead on who she might be. But in a moment of misguided chivalry the night before, paying for her tab had wiped away any chance of a paper trail.

Once I got off the phone with him, I headed to every social media app I thought she’d be on, searching for a Lisa that matched her face. It was a quest I knew bordered on the impossible, aware of Lisa being a common name across the globe. Yet, driven by a sense of urgency, a desperation to reconnect, I persisted.

Each click, each profile, felt like grasping at shadows, an acknowledgment of the futility even as I began. But the connection we shared, fueled my determination to try against the odds. The pursuit felt personal, had me pacing the length of my room, phone in hand. How could I have let this woman slip through my fingers.

Where are you, Lisa?

Pissed at myself for not getting any of her info, I stormed over to the winery, my mind set on resuming the hunt the moment I stepped back into my house.

And then as if summoned by my plea, there she was, a testament to the belief that sometimes, miracles do happen.

If Naomi thought she could slip away from me again, she had another thing coming.

As my mother announced the end of the session, and the class, along with my parents, started to leave. I noticed Naomi struggling to pack her papers into her handbag, looking worn out. It was clear the nights's events, and maybe more, had taken a toll on her. She attempted to stand, winced in discomfort, and sank back down, seemingly defeated. I couldn't help but smile as I approached, settling onto her desk with a casual ease.

"I couldn't help but notice, but there's no 'Lisa' listed for this retreat," I observed, making a show of recalling every name I'd memorized, locking my gaze with hers.

"Um, about that..." she stammered, a nervous bite to her lip as her eyes met mine.

"Trying to pull a fast one on me? Use me for my body and then vanish? That’s cold!" I joked, feigning a wounded pride.

Her laughter, tinged with embarrassment, broke the tension. I reached out, gently lifting her chin to ensure our eyes met.

"What's your real name?" I asked, the moment hanging between us.

"Naomi... Naomi Turner," she replied, her voice a soft whisper.

"Naomi," I echoed, feeling the name suit her perfectly, a fitting piece to the puzzle of her identity.

I let my hand fall away, half-jokingly afraid it might ignite from the blaze in her eyes. She was stunning, and those eyes were holding secrets I was eager yet careful to uncover. The intensity of her orgasms aside, there was depth, a vulnerability glimpsed through her tears last night. I sensed the need for a gentle approach.

"You alright, Naomi?" I asked, a playful smile on my face as I tilted my head to the right.

Her attempt to shield herself with that tough New York facade was almost convincing.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she countered.

"You seem a bit...overwhelmed. Like last nights marathon left you needing a recovery day," I quipped, unable to resist teasing her.

She turned away, a smile she couldn't hide betraying her, then busied herself with her bag again, "I'm just fine, Mr. Thompson Jr," she insisted, emphasizing the junior.

"I’m Mr. Thompson now?" I echoed, amused thinking of how my name sounded during her waves of ecstasy.

"You never mentioned this winery was run by your family when I talked about it yesterday," she pointed out, a hint of accusation in her tone.

"I said a know a thing or two about wine," I replied with a casual shrug.

“A thing or two is putting it mildly, Sir.”, she said rolling her eyes.

Naomi tried to stand quickly, a grimace of pain flashing across her face. I would have missed it if I wasn’t busy study her. I resisted the urge to help, hands buried in my jeans pockets, a show of restraint as I made my offer.

"You should come back home with me," I suggested, following as she started to leave. "Let me take care of you, run you a bath, feed you…"

She spun around, the determination in her eyes stopping me in my tracks,"Whatever happened last night, it was a one-time thing. Ok?"

I couldn't help but laugh, louder than intended.

"You don't seem like you're used to 'one-time things,'" I remarked, still chuckling. “You’re bad at it. Worst I’ve seen.”

Rolling her eyes, she seemed out of her element as she crossed her arms over her breasts. The same ones she had no problem with me taking into my mouth last night. Things had taken such a turn.

"I get it, you’re on vacation, wanted a bit of fun. Why stop? I didn't expect to run into you here, but maybe fate has other ideas," I suggested, trying to soften the mood.

“Or maybe it’s just a glitch in The Matrix.”, she suggested.

"No," I affirmed, closing the gap between us, firmly believing that there was no accident in our meeting.

"No?" she echoed, taking a step back, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"The universe is deliberate in its actions," I countered with conviction. “This is no mistake.”

She paused, her eyes probing mine for truth, then sharply retorted, "Guess that's something we'll never figure out, huh?"

Her challenge only spurred me on, her resistance igniting a deeper desire.

"You've got a stubborn streak, Miss Turner," I observed, our proximity rekindling the raw intensity of my longing.

Despite the urge to pull her close, put her on my desk, rip those jeans off of her and devour her until she was hoarse, I continued to restrain myself, respecting the boundary she was trying to set. She held her ground, despite the visible swallow, her resolve as clear as the defiance in her eyes.

"Your usual charm might work on every other woman here, but what happened between us stays a one-time deal, for real. Let it go," she insisted with a firmness that matched her gaze.

Drawing closer, I cupped her chin gently, my lips grazing her neck in a whisper of a touch before meeting her eyes again.

"That’s how it is?" I murmured, challenging her resolve.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice steady but her body betraying the tension of our encounter.

Her resilience intrigued me, and as I stepped back to let her go, I couldn't help but admire her more. She was walking away, but I knew this wasn't the end. The way she had talked about this place, before knowing my connection to it, she wouldn’t allow her discomfort with us to keep her away. However, waiting until tomorrow seemed like an eternity.

"How about dinner?" I called after her, hoping to extend an olive branch.

"No!" Her refusal was sharp, the door slamming shut behind her as she left.

This girl was going to make me work for it, but I as I stood in the empty classroom thinking back to how it felt to fall asleep with her in my arms just hours ago, my mind was made up. I was more than ready to rise to the challenge.

I headed straight to the office and logged into our merchant account. Once I found her name, it was all there, her address in New York, email, but what I really wanted her phone number that I began to copy into my phone, saving her as Naomi with the lady of liberty emoji saved next to her name.

“If you’re in here stealing that girls information…”, my mothers voice said as she entered the room.

"Huh?" I feigned ignorance sitting behind the desk, but it was a feeble attempt at best. My mother's ability to perceive the unspoken truths of my life had always left me both baffled and slightly admiring.

“Huh?”, she mimicked my response with a hint of sarcasm, her eyes narrowing slightly in that all-too-familiar way that said she already knew more than I was willing to admit.

For a moment it made me think of Naomi who had done the same thing just minutes after meeting me.

Caught in the act, I could only offer a sheepish grin in response to my mother's knowing gaze. Her ability to arrive at just the right moment was uncanny, a trait that had always kept me on my toes since I was a little boy. The mix of amusement and mild reproof in her expression told me she wasn't entirely surprised by my actions, yet her presence underscored a silent warning about respecting boundaries.

"Stealing is a strong word, Ma," I defended, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "I work here. I'm just...borrowing some information for a good cause."

Her sigh, heavy with the wisdom and patience of a parent accustomed to the impulsive decisions of their offspring, filled the room.

Despite the questionable method of acquiring Naomi's contact information, my intentions were rooted in a genuine desire to connect, to bridge the gap that the retreat's formalities and unexpected encounters had placed between us. My actions were a testament to the depth of my interest, a step towards uncovering the potential of what could be between Naomi and me.

"And just what exactly is going on between you and Naomi? She looked like she saw a ghost when she laid eyes on you," she pressed, her curiosity mixed with concern.

"Yeah, we, um..." I stumbled over my words, my mind racing to piece together a coherent explanation. "We met at Benny's yesterday, and, well, the night turned out to be longer and more eventful than expected," I confessed, scratching the back of my head in a gesture of nervous honesty.

"Son, please," she sighed, her expression a mixture of exasperation and disgust. “Guess that explains why she was…out of it today despite how excited she was to sign up.”

"I had no clue she was attending the retreat, and she was just as surprised to find out my connection to this place. It's funny how the universe works, isn't it?" I said, hoping to convey the genuine astonishment and delight I felt about the whole situation.

My mother's response, a mix of skepticism and acceptance, signaled her understanding of the unpredictable ways in which life can intertwine paths. Her knowing look reminded me that, despite the unexpected turns my relationship with Naomi might take, I had her silent, albeit watchful, support.

“I believe you, no need to explain.”, she said as she went over to the printer, “But I will say, the way you two looked at one another, I know there’s something there. So don’t mess it up.”

I chuckled, putting my phone in my blazer pocket as I stood up from behind the desk.

“Mess it up? Ma, I’m not that bad.”, I asserted.

“You’re not Caleb, I know that.”, she said with love in her eyes, “It’s just that…you changed a bit after…you know.”

My mother's words, gentle yet laced with concern, struck a chord within me. The mention of Jasmine, albeit indirect, brought a shadow of past pain briefly in my chest. The betrayal had been a turning point, forcing me to reassess not just my relationships, but my approach to life and love itself. It was a wound that had taken its time to heal, shaped by introspection, therapy, and a damn good divorce attorney.

"Ma, I've learned a lot since then," I said, the assurance in my voice mirroring the growth I'd felt within. "I'm not the same person I was. What happened... it was tough, but it taught me about what I really value, about honesty and being upfront."

She nodded, her expression softening, "I know, honey. And that's why I believe when the right person comes along, you'll know how to make it work. Just... be careful with your heart too, okay?"

"I will, Mom. I promise." The conviction in my reply was as much for her reassurance as it was a pledge to myself.

"So you spent time together but, now you’re in here borrowing her info. Looks like things are off to a complicated start," my mother added as she grabbed some freshly printed paper.

"Yeah, that's the thing, though. She's got her guard up. Seems like she's wrestling with the fact of who I am here. Worried, maybe, about what you and Dad might think. Concerned that there could be some lines blurred, given she's here for the retreat," I shared, trying to dissect the layers of Naomi's apprehension.

Understanding flashed in my mother's eyes as she processed my words, her experience in navigating the intricacies of human emotions evident.

"That's a valid concern," she acknowledged, her voice carrying the weight of empathy for Naomi's position. "This retreat, our home, it's a place of healing, growth, and learning. It's important she feels safe and respected here, Caleb. When we met yesterday, something told me she needed to be here. It’s why I squeezed her in."

I nodded, fully aware of the delicate balance that needed to be maintained.

"I know, and I don't want her to feel any discomfort. It's just... there's something about her, Ma. I can't quite put it into words, but it feels different," I confessed, trying to articulate the depth of what I felt for Naomi, despite our brief encounter.

My mother moved closer, her presence always a source of comfort and wisdom.

"If there's truly something there, she'll come around. Just be patient, Caleb," she advised, her hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder.

Her advice resonated with me, a reminder of the values she and my father had instilled in me from a young age.

"You're right, as always. I'll take it slow, make sure she knows she's in control of whatever happens between us," I said, my resolve strengthening.

"And remember," my mother added, "transparency and honesty are key. Let her see the real you, the man we raised. That's the best way to break down any wall."

I kissed my Mother on the forehead, thanked her for her words and headed out. As I hopped in my black Shelby F-150, her words lingered in my mind, a gentle reminder of the delicate situation with Naomi. She was guarding herself, constructing barriers for reasons deeply her own. Understanding this, I knew patience and a slow, respectful approach were key.

Yet, the essence of me nudged me to test the waters, to initiate a connection that spoke of my intentions, albeit gently. The urge to reach out to Naomi was irresistible. With a quick tap, I sent a text, a playful hint of boldness:

Me: See you tomorrow at the luncheon 🍷🍇

The typing indicator danced across the screen, as I awaited her reply, almost certain she knew it was me on the other end. Understanding her need for some distance, I couldn't shake the thought of giving her a heads-up about when and where our paths would cross next.

It seemed a considerate gesture, ensuring she wouldn’t be taken by surprise. More selfishly, it offered me a pretext to reach out, to bridge the silence between us with a few fleeting moments of connection through our messages.

Naomi: Lol, you're on thin ice, Mr. Stalker. I might just have to report you to your parents.

Her words brought a grin to my face, a mix of amusement and challenge.

Me: Duly noted. Hope you find sleep more comforting without my charming presence.

Naomi: I’m sure I will. Goodnight, Caleb.

Her retort, teasing yet warm, echoed in the silence of my truck as I started the engine, my phone now resting in the console. This exchange, light and filled with the promise of more, solidified my resolve.

Naomi might not know it yet, but she had already started to change my world, and I was ready to show her just how much.

To Be Continued…