Crazy Thing Called Life Read online

  Grant bends back up from his laughter, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

  "You do realize you've had this playboy football god reputation since high school, right?"

  I chuck one of the squeaky toys at his head.

  "I can't help it if girls run their mouths to each other about me and that I'm an MVP. What am I supposed to do? Make them sign a non-disclosure and play like shit?"

  He slams the car door shut and leans against it.

  With extreme sarcasm, he advises, "First of all, you could take that stupid thing out of your tongue. Second, you keep your dick in your pants. Third, keep a damn shirt on in pictures."

  I turn my back to him as I walk back into the house to get Fuzzy. Grant follows me close behind to keep his list going.

  "Grant, I might just punch you for good measure if you don't shut up."

  He points a finger at me. "See? Anger issues. Can't be punching your own brother."

  I hate flying more than anything in the world.

  The normal cool, yet outspoken and will talk to strangers Natalie Lyons is absolutely scared to death of flying. Like 100 percent, possibly throwing up, and crazy heaving scared to death.

  Usually, I have to take a sleeping pill to make it the several hours from Houston to Napa. I had it planned out perfectly every time so that I would fall asleep within minutes before take-off. I really tried to think of it as a flying car, but I failed every time. Between the take-offs and landings, plus the popping ears, my stomach hated it. The only reason I fly instead of driving or taking the train is to save traveling time. The faster I got to Napa, the faster I got to see my family.

  My dad flies down when he can, but I haven't seen Aunt Mimi and Uncle Richard since last year because of their schedules with the vineyard. I'm so proud of everything they have done with it over the years, I just wish I could see them more.

  I've always been close to Aunt Mimi, especially after my mom died, and I miss her. She tries more often than not to get me to move back, but I'm fairly stable in Houston and don't want to rock the boat right now. I've had enough change the last few years to make a big move again.

  The stability doesn't stop me from taking a much-needed vacation. Every Christmas, Aunt Mimi and Uncle Richard host a family reunion at the vineyard, closing it down to the public. Some say it’s stupid to lose that money at Christmas, but it's never been about money for Mimi and Richard. It's about celebrating the holidays with the people they love.

  I have a big group of cousins, my mom's family still attend even though she's passed away, and Aunt Mimi has so many friends that just stop by for the barbecue that it's worth the insanity to fly.

  If only I could just get there so I can see everyone with all of my nerves intact.

  Did I mention I hate flying?

  The line for security was longer than I anticipated, even after arriving two hours early. I barely have time for the sleeping pill to kick in before take-off.

  If it kicks in at all.

  Oh lordy, I'm going to have a panic attack.

  My flying anxiety starts to get the better of me and before I can stop it, I’m hyperventilating into the air sick bag, freaking out the surrounding passengers.

  I've never felt more like a freak. Please, please let the pill kick in soon.

  It feels like hours of hyperventilating that I'm surprised I haven't passed out from the lack of oxygen. My lungs feel like they're going to burst out of my chest, and not one person has stopped to ask if I'm okay or even help me.

  I can't even reach the sleeping pill bottle from my bag from my blurred vision.

  I see a shadow fall over me, and I'm hoping it's a flight attendant with water. Instead, a big hand lands on my knee. I calm down enough by the touch to look up toward the shadow and see the face that I have dreamt since he hit it big with the Rams.

  Colin Shaw.

  I really hope I'm not hallucinating his presence.

  He's even hotter in person than I remember, even with the concerned look on his face right now. His pale green eyes are helping me focus on my breathing instead of the germ-infested bag in my hands.

  "Natalie? Natalie, are you okay?"

  Whoa, he remembered my name. I mean, I guess the clinic incident was only a few days ago, but he was so freaked out at first, I didn't think he paid attention. Plus, he's a big celebrity in Houston, he probably meets people all the time and doesn't remember them.

  I feel his strong hand massage my knee, which is definitely taking my focus off the fact that we will be thousands of feet in the air, and putting my anxious energy in places elsewhere below. I wish the massaging was happening a little farther up my body and in a more private setting. With less clothing.

  He knows he's causing this, right?

  Massaging my knee and holding his squat position in the cramped spaces between the aisles, he blocks the last-minute passengers.

  A flight attendant appears next to us and is not too happy that we're delaying the boarding process.

  This couldn't get any worse.

  "Mr. Shaw, I'm sorry but we're going to need you to head back to first class so we can board the rest of coach and close the door for take-off."

  He stands up, making me feel so tiny in this little seat as my anxiety attack wears off. I'm so ready to pass out now that I only half pay attention to Colin talking to the attendant. I don't even care they're talking about me when I'm one foot away from the both of them.

  "I'd like her to have my first-class seat, please? It's clear she could use the space, and she's a friend of mine."

  Probably calculating the risk of pissing off a celebrity, she suggests, "Well the seat next to you is vacant. The passenger manifest had it listed as empty. She is welcome to sit next to you if you'd like."

  Crouching back down next to me, his gravelly voice relaxes me. "Natalie, I'm going to bring you up to first class with me so I can take care of you. I don't want you to be alone on the flight."

  All I can do is nod for several reasons. One—I'm still catching my breath after that mini anxiety attack. Two—I think the sleeping pill is finally kicking in. And three—THE Colin Shaw wants me to sit with him in first class and has his hand on my knee again.

  Who knew touching a knee could be such a turn on? The heat from his hand takes my body to a whole new level of lust.

  My joints feel slightly stiff as I rise from my seat, and the attendant helps me get my carry-on so that we can walk up to first class. She stows my bag away near what I assume is Colin's seat and scurries to the other side of the aisles, leaving us alone.

  His face looks at mine with concern before he asks, "Do you need anything? Water, ginger ale, wine?"

  Trying to find my voice for the first time since boarding, I hoarsely reply, "A water would be wonderful."

  Colin rings the attendant who brings me a mini bottle of water, and the cold liquid feels amazing down my throat. I close the cap and hold the bottle in my lap before taking a glance at Colin. His Adam's apple bounces up and down, teasing me with wanting to lick his neck. My eyes travel lower where I can see his tattoo peeking from the short sleeve of his shirt, where I would also love to trace with my tongue, like in my past fantasies. If only I could see the other tattoos up close, but I doubt he'd take his shirt off for me on the plane.

  I'm taken out of my daydream by the sound of a voice clearing.

  "So what takes you to California?"

  "I um... I'm from there. I go back every Christmas for a family reunion."

  "Where in California are you from?"

  "I'm from Napa Valley. My family has a vineyard and inn there. It's fairly large, and I loved growing up there." Thinking about seeing my family in just a few short hours brings a sense of calm over me for a brief moment until the captain comes over the intercom telling us we're getting ready to taxi on the runway.

  A warm, callused, and strong hand grabs mine, bringing a flutter to my stomach and an aching feeling of need to my core.

  Does this man not
realize the effect he has on womankind?

  "Tell me more about the vineyard."

  It's obvious he's trying to distract me, and I very much welcome the distraction.

  "Mes Trois Chiens Vignoble has been in my dad, Paul's, side of the family for over 150 years. Over the past forty or so, my aunt, Miriam, AKA Mimi, and uncle, Richard have been adding all sorts of new ideas to it. The inn was the first to be added on and then the stables. The restaurant started right after I was born and thus all the weddings came pouring in to round out fancy events. Mimi and Richard do those wine and paint classes, plus they teach Viticulture and Oenology at seminars every year."

  He laughs for a second at my rambling, and it's a laugh that I melt for.

  "I have no clue what either of those means."

  I giggle because he's definitely not the first person to be confused. "Mes Trois Chiens Vignoble means My Three Dogs Vineyard. Oenology is the study of wine and winemaking. Viticulture is the study of grapes, the science and production. That's your first wine lesson, Mr. Shaw."

  His thumb draws circles on my wrist, making my pulse race faster than the flying nerves ever cause. Suddenly my words trail and it isn’t until his smooth voice demands my attention and reminds me that I was mid-sentence when his touch completely stopped me silent.

  "I see animal loving runs in your family. What about your parents’? Are they involved with the vineyard?"

  "My mom wasn't. She was a highly demanded interior designer in Northern California, but my dad did the books for the vineyard. When he moved back, he started again."

  Colin looks at me questioningly. "Your mom didn't move back?"

  A wave of sadness falls over me whenever I explain about my mom. I didn't realize I spoke about her in the past tense, but I did.

  Colin places a hand on my cheek and guides my eyes back to his.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry and make you upset."

  I lean into his palm, not realizing it’s the comfort I need to hold back the tears.

  "It's okay." I take a slow, steadying breath. People always give me a look of sympathy whenever I talk about my mom. It's gotten easier with time, but that hole in my heart from her absence will always be there.

  "We moved to Houston when I was sixteen when my mom, Celia, got offered a great set of projects for some of Houston's elite socialites." I smile, thinking of my mom's amazing gift to design everything from a homey general store to an ostentatious seven-acre mansion and compound.

  "Shortly after the move, my mom went in for her annual exam, and the doctor found lumps in her breast. The biopsy confirmed cancer, but it had already spread. She died when I was nineteen. My dad moved back to be closer to his brother and our family again. I stayed in Houston because I was already starting my junior year of college."

  "You were a junior at nineteen? I was barely finishing sophomore year when I was nineteen."

  I nudge his shoulder with mine. "Football must've taken up a lot of your time."

  His warmth invades me. He leans in far enough that our noses are nearly touching, and his breathing matches my own. The fresh mint scent dances across my cheeks. He drags his piercing across his lip before he replies, "I wanna know more about you."

  My chest heaves with the impending gasps that catch in my throat. Colin Shaw wants to know me.

  My reply is staggered. "But...but why? You could know any groupie, model, or actress you wanted. I'm not the hook up with a celebrity kind of girl."

  His voice takes on a hard edge. "First of all, I'm glad you're not an actress or model, and I’m definitely glad you're not a groupie. Half of my team has hooked up with a bunch of the same groupies, and that holds no appeal to me. Second, when I met you, the way you handled everything with Fuzzy is what first attracted me to you. The more I talked to you and Dr. Schultz's rave reviews, the more I wanted to know. I was too chicken of pursuing you through with all the drama surrounding me."

  I'm taken aback by his words and also a little flattered that he actually took Dr. Schultz's words to heart about my skills as a vet student. I look at him and I believe the sincerity in his eyes, even if I'm still overwhelmed by the day.

  My dad's car pulls through the long, Christmas decorated driveway that leads up to the family plot on the vineyard. My aunt made sure that we had a family home close enough to the inn, but far enough that we wouldn't be randomly running into guests at odd hours. I still ran into some when I did my morning runs and rides through the vineyard, but most just ignored me.

  Mimi is standing in the doorway with her three dogs lying not far from her feet, and I jump out of the car before my dad comes to a full stop. After the flight I had, being with my family is the perfect way to relax. Her hug is exactly what I need right now.

  She walks around the dogs and pulls me in, squeezing me until I can't breathe. "Oh baby girl, I missed you so much!"

  With a little air, I croak, "Mimi, we just spoke yesterday."

  She releases me and looks the inch down at me before speaking, "Honey, talking to you and seeing you are two different things." She looks at me from head to toe, and a concerned look passes her face. "You look a bit frazzled. Come inside and have a glass of the new Chardonnay to calm down."

  We walk past the relaxing pups into the gorgeous house of my childhood. My dad trails behind us and heads up the stairs to my old room while Mimi walks me to the kitchen.

  Richard is standing at the stove, cooking away, until Mimi walks up behind him to grab the bottle and hints him to my presence. He turns around and drops the spoon onto the floor before we meet by the island.

  He swings me around in a circle, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and we do our secret handshake. "Baby girl! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

  Mimi is standing behind him when she says, "Oh so looking at me for the last forty years has been making your eyes sore? Do you want to sleep in the barn tonight?"

  Richard is still holding me and turns us both to look at Mimi while she's uncorking the bottle.

  "Now, my dearest Miriam, you know looking at you is the highlight of my life. My eyes are sore from crying when I cut the onions."

  I break out in laughter at his attempt to save himself. My parents’ used to act like this all the time, and I'd usually leave the room right as the kissing started.

  I was close with my parents’, but not enough to watch them make-out. Same for Mimi and Richard.

  Boundaries are a necessity in a nosy family like mine.

  The aroma of food and sweet wine makes my stomach grumble through Mimi and Richard talking. Even on the flight, I barely nibbled on the snacks that Colin insisted I eat before I took a small nap. Thinking about how sweet he was brings a smile to my face and goose bumps across my skin.

  "Oh, honey, I see that goofy smile." She hands me a glass of wine and pats the bar stool next to her while Richard goes back to cooking. "Now tell me all about him."

  "Who is him?" my dad asks, walking in into the kitchen before I can tell Mimi about Colin. My dad's a Rams fan so he would definitely know who Colin is, which terrifies me.

  I blush thinking about his hands on mine during the flight and how he asked me out once we were both back in Houston. He was telling me about Fuzzy doing better and his nephew loving her, plus all the other stuff he bought him for his birthday. It's clear how much he loves his nephew.

  "Well, Dad, you actually know of him. We're only friends, though, so don't freak out once I tell you who he is."

  My aunt squirms in her seat, waiting for me to reveal Colin's identity.

  "Now I really have to know."

  I take a deep breath and start my story of Colin and Fuzzy. When I start in on what happened on the flight, Mimi is practically falling off her chair and I've stunned my father into silence for a few moments. Richard has even stopped cooking. He and dad watch football together all the time.

  Clearing his throat, my dad finds his voice. "So you're telling me that Colin Shaw, number one draft pick from The University of Oklah
oma and MVP recipient, got you to stop hyperventilating on an airplane—which even I can't do—and got you a first class seat?"

  Sheepishly I reply, "He told the attendant he wanted to give up his seat, but she offered me the empty one next to him instead. I don't think she wanted to make him mad."

  My dad shakes his head. "Well, I'll be damned. After the year that boy had, he's looking at a promising career." He puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not freaking out, just shocked. All I ask is that you be careful, sweetie. Don't get caught up in the celebrity of it all."

  With that, he leaves the room and my aunt grabs the bottle from the counter and pours us both another glass. Richard sets a plate of snacks in front of us before following my dad out of the room. They tend to leave Mimi and me whenever boys are involved in the conversation. Lord knows we'll need the privacy when I tell her about the fantasies I've had about Colin Shaw. Mimi and I have no secrets. Boundaries, but no secrets.

  "I know there's more so tell me everything. First, I wanna see a picture of him."

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and notice a text notification from Colin.

  So I stole your phone from the drink tray while you were sleeping

  and added myself. Let me know when you get to the vineyard, please. :)

  -Colin

  Mimi reads over my shoulder and grabs my phone before I can start a reply. She clicks on the picture he set for the contact and her jaw drops.

  She points at my phone and shrieks, "That's him?!"

  Swiftly, I grab my phone back and pull up a shirtless picture of him from one of his ads just to mess with her. Her eyes bug out so much, a little "awooga" should be above her head.

  "If you don't want him, may I have him?"

  Laughing at her, I reply, "I doubt Uncle Richard would be okay with that."

  "Text the boy back before I do and embarrass you in the process."

  Taking a healthy sip of my wine, I text him back.

  Made it safely. Thank you for everything today. It really meant a lot to me.