“Why? Do you not want to go?” I asked.
“It’s not that. It’s just kind of a random thing to do on a Sunday morning.”
“Maybe I enjoy the spontaneity.”
“Can I take a nap after?”
I chuckled as I escorted her out the door and to my car. It didn’t take us long to get there, but it did take a little coaxing for me to get Michelle into the balloon. But the second we were in the air, she couldn’t take her eyes off the scenery. With the sprawling vineyards below us and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, there was nowhere else I’d have rather been. She pressed her cheek against my chest and gazed out over the whole of Napa Valley, our pilot enabling us to ride the wind. The fire roared beside us and Michelle’s fingers dug into my lower back. I held onto her closely, pressing kisses to the top of her head.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “You know, besides the part about being up so high.”
“I’ve got you,” I said. “You’re safe with me.”
She looked up into my eyes and I held my breath. The beauty of her features was astounding, and the woman they were attached to made it all the more memorable. I pressed my lips to her forehead, making sure I didn’t breach any boundary she didn’t want me to. Then, we gazed back out over the horizon.
It really was beautiful, but I knew part of that was due to Michelle being at my side during the spectacle.
Eventually, the hot air balloon made a controlled crash to the ground, and Michelle was all giggles. I took her hand and led her out of the basket as a car came and picked us up from our destination point. It drove us all the way back to our starting point where my car was parked, and I twirled her around before she crashed into my chest. I rose my hand to cup her cheek. Slid my thumb over her skin and watched her eyes light up. Her gaze fell to my lips, and for a moment I debated on kissing her. On taking advantage of the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
But I held off, hoping that her happiness foreshadowed my own.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re not done yet.”
“Don’t tell me we’re going on another balloon ride,” Michelle said. “That was fun, but I don’t know if I can do the heights again.”
She shivered in my arms before I pulled away and helped her into my car.
“Nope. We’re going to stomp grapes,” I said.
“Wait, actual grapes?” she asked.
I took her to my vineyard processing barn where barrels of freshly-picked grapes were ready to be smashed. Most of my vintages used grapes that were smashed and ground up using machines, before being filtered through layers of sieves. But for a few of my vintages, I took the old school route. And I was producing a holiday wine that year for which I’d chosen to use the old school route.
“Can I actually do it?” Michelle asked.
“Take off those flip flops, dip your feet in the cleansing water, then hop on in,” I said.
She looked like a kid in a candy shop. I helped her over the edge and held her hand, watching as she squealed and grimaced at the feel of the grape flesh between her toes. She threw her head back and laughed. She took her time sinking to the bottom to make sure she crushed every grape she could. The light in her eyes was something I committed to memory. Something that I would forever hold near and dear to my heart.
“Do you crush the grapes, too?” Michelle asked.
“I have once,” I said.
“Will you get in with me?”
My eyes connected with hers as she ceased her movements.
“Please?” she asked.
“Well, when you ask so nicely.”
I took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, then hopped in beside her. Our fingers threaded together as we held one another up, stumbling around and crushing all the grapes in our path. They poured more in as we hopped and skipped. We shared some laughs before the two of us almost fell into the massive batch of grapes. We kept taking breaks before digging into more of them, giving the workers a run for their money.
I picked her up and swirled her around before the two of us fell into the skins and seeds.
“I think we should get cleaned up,” she said, through her giggles.
I held her close to me, watching as grape juice trickled from the tendrils of her beautiful red hair.