Page 45 of Wild Abandon

I lean forward and grab the bag before peering inside. He also got me a hairbrush and hair ties.

“You’re nicer than you look, Nathaniel Teller.” A smile spreads across my lips, and I turn around and head back into the bathroom.

chapter NINE

As we’re driving up Highway 29 in Nate’s truck, I play with the radio in search of 101.3, the only station I seem to like out here. It is seriously the coolest station. One minute, I can be listening to Lionel Richie and then Beyoncé the next. Right now, Justin Bieber is crooning. I was not a fan of the Biebs in his teenybopper days. But, lately, I’ve become a Belieber.

Nate reaches over and changes the station.

“What are you doing?” I put my music back on.

“You like that crap?” He switches it back to a station playing hard rock.

“It’s not crap. It feeds my soul.” I put my music back on and hold my hands over the radio, so Nate can’t change it again.

“Justin Bieber feeds your soul?” He has his baseball cap on backward right now and is eyeing me in disbelief.

“Yes.” I raise my chin at him in defiance.

The side of his mouth turns up, and his eyes crinkle. “You do know your soul-feeder has tattoos.”

I move my hands from the radio and lean back into my seat. “I didn’t say I wanted to sleep with him.” That’s actually a lie, but Nate doesn’t need to know that.

He shakes his head and drives us into the town of Yountville. He turns onto a drive for Domaine Chandon. We get out of the car and walk toward a parklike area covered in gorgeous trees that branch out closer to the trunk than the oak trees I’m used to back home. Irregular, twisted, and light-gray branches lead to lanceolate-shaped leaves that are whitish on the underside and bright green where they face the sun.

“They’re olive trees,” Nate says from beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Come on.”

He starts walking toward a trellis, so I follow him, a grin on my face.

The entrance to Domaine Chandon looks like a grotto. The archway opening is covered on all sides by greenery. If it wasn’t for the two large double doors that lead inside, I would have thought this was a secret cave. Through the doors, the corporate vibe of the facility is front and center when we walk through a gift shop. Champagne bottles the size of my suitcase are for sale as are many other delicious-looking beverages bottled in gorgeous packaging, ready to be taken home for consumption.

I follow Nate up the stairs to the wine-tasting room. Wood-planked ceilings give the room a warm feeling against the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Along one side of the room is an ultra-long bar that lights up like a chic nightclub with bottles and bottles of sparkling wine.

Nate and I walk up to the bar and order a tasting. The server places two menus in front of us with the four wines we’ll be trying today. He explains the first and then pours two glasses for us.

I lift my glass to my nose and breathe in the aroma. “Red cherry,” I say before taking a sip. “And strawberry.” I savor the taste.

Nate drinks his as well. He is a whiskey guy through and through, but there is no denying that he’s enjoying the crisp, seductive taste of the rosé.

“You’re good at that,” he states, referring to my wine-tasting expertise.

“I’ve been practicing. Let’s take our next drink on the terrace.”

We walk out the side doors and onto a terrace in the gorgeous sunshine. There are tables and chairs that look out onto trees. Spying a small hill to the left, I start walking up it, my heels making it a little difficult. Nate grabs my elbow and helps me keep my balance. When we get to the top, we are staring down at the valley.

“When you said we’d go wine-tasting, I wasn’t expecting champagne.”

“Sparkling wine.” He raises his glass in correction. “I wanted to start with something classy.”

“Where are we gonna end? Henley’s?” I joke.

Based on his shrug, I wonder just how far off I am.

“You told me last night that you wanted to be a total tourist. So, today, we are tourists.” Nate takes out his phone and holds it up. “Say cheese.”

I put my hand in front of his phone. “Stop that! Not when I look like this.”

He thinks I’m joking, but I am serious. I might have tamed my hair into a braid, but I still look like I spent last night bathing in Jack.