“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 and 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 . . .”