Chapter Six
If you can taste the smoke, then you’re already in trouble.
Rezi
The evening airwas crisp and filled with the scent of pine as I arrived at the elegant dinner table on the terrace of the property. The way the land was nestled in the mountain countryside left a magical feeling lingering in the moonlight.
As I made my way to my seat, my body began to ache, proof that he was near me … not that any was needed. His scent captured my attention before he uttered a word.
“You look stunning,” DeShawn said.
Peering behind me, my chin gently brushed against my shoulder. “You clean up nicely yourself,” I replied, and man was it true.
He was handsome, and his navy-blue suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly. Lightly grazing his rich walnut skin when I grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray, I sighed, the contact sparking my desire. My goal just a couple hours prior had been to distract myself from thoughts of DeShawn, and here he was making that almost impossible once more. His presence giving me that feeling of comfort and excitement combined.
Prior to Shawn and I sleeping together on the plane, I felt like my body was calmer in his presence. The feelings of irritation I had toward him were always in the forefront of my mind. But our cannabis-induced experience had changed something within me. It felt like I was forgiving him. Or, at the very least, moving past it. Both possible outcomes causing a strange sensation.
However, even more than the emotional alteration I could feel taking place, there was a carnal craving our sex had triggered. My body was as keen to his presence as ever it had been before.
“I always loved you in red,” DeShawn whispered, closing any distance between us. I forced myself not to shiver under the seductive timber of his voice. He wasn’t touching me, deliberately I assumed, yet there couldn’t have been even an inch between us, increasing the sexual tension tenfold.
Red was his favorite color, which I deemed a bit odd for such an environment-loving man like him. But subconsciously I knew I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t chosen this dress over the four other choices Anna had provided me, just to see this look on his face.
“DeShawn White and Rezi Stone, I’d like to introduce you to a couple of our friends,” Mathias interrupted, allowing me to take a much-needed break from the intoxicating pressure brewing between us.
While I greeted the new acquaintances, Shawn took a moment, his gaze fixed on me before he moved on to address the others. It was the way his eyes lingered that made my heartbeat quicken, my inner voice reminding me that he was the type of man that I could never shake loose from.
Making our rounds, we met dozens of guests, but besides DeShawn, the décor and unique hors d’oeuvres kept gaining my attention as well. The vine-wrapped railings made it feel like the lush greenery below the terrace was all a part of the design. Meanwhile, the chandelier lights dangling from the trees with string lights melting into the night sky bought a sense of calm and elegance. Yet, the real showstopper of the evening, outside of Anna Maria’s rose embellished dress, had to be the cannabis towers displayed throughout.
Now typically when I think of vertical plant towers, they seemed like nothing more than a method to grow more plants when horizontal space is limited. I’m sure they have a bunch of other purposes, too—like saving water and higher crop yield. However, what made these towers so much more interesting, was they had been retrofitted to include serving sections. The change unmistakably had nothing to do with increasing growth and everything to do with providing a memorable aesthetic.
“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered to DeShawn when I felt his presence slide in beside me and caught him eyeing the same towers.
“Weed plants serving up blunts, cookies, and a bunch of other stuff?” DeShawn asked rhetorically. “I think that’s exactly what that is.”
“A person could truly lose hours just admiring these towers,” I stated in awe.
“Do you remember that time we got lost in the garden maze?” he asked, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
I giggled softly, the memory flooding back with vivid clarity. “How could I forget? We were so determined to find our way out, convinced we were on the verge of discovering some hidden treasure.”
“Until we stumbled upon that patch of poison ivy,” he interjected, a playful twinkle in his eyes. The kind of glimmer that still made me feel like I was high and floating on clouds.
“The itching and scratching that followed is still an experience I never need to repeat,” I noted. “We must have looked crazy slapping all that calamine lotion on before we even left the pharmacy.”
“But we made it out in the end, covered in rashes but victorious nonetheless,” he remarked, a note of pride in his voice.
“But we didn’t even make it out of the maze,” I reminded.
“We survived poison ivy though. It shouldn’t have been in the garden maze in the first damn place.”
I nodded, muttering, “That’s true,” before my eyes wandered back to the towers.
“Oh nah,” Shawn added with a slight chuckle. “Now I know you feel like a G now, having survived your first marijuana-mushroom cocktail, but I’ve seen this look before. Don’t go getting any goddamn ideas.”
I licked my lips, his bossy yet concerned words activating my naughtier side. “With how that experience ended and how you benefited, I’d say you should be careful of your own thoughts not mine.”
“Well, if you’re going to put it like that, then maybe you should go take a hit.” He smiled.
My response fell on deaf ears because Shawn got pulled away by one of the models we’d worked with earlier. Honestly, it was probably for the better, as our conversation was beginning to heat up.
I was not a smoker or a edibles kind of girl coming into this journey, but watching half the party partake had me almost ready to do the same. It was about the way the smokers held the blunt between their fingers before taking a puff and passing it around. Or how the edibles were being divided and shared by people who spoke two different languages. I guess to sum it up, it was the comradery and vibe that was pulling me in while it spread throughout the space like wildfire.
As if opening up their home to all of us wasn’t enough, the Murillos were excellent hosts, and although most of the attendees didn’t speak English, there remained a sense of inclusion throughout the night. People from different walks of life coming together to share a meal … and a blunt.
I recognized a few of the guests as workers from the fields we’d visited today. While others were clearly more professional types. The combination of folks looked like a group that wouldn’t be mingling but worked in the most unique way.
Upon taking our seats, the striking soft candlelight that made up the centerpieces proved only the tip of the iceberg, as the most decadent feast grew before us. Platters of empanadas, golden and crispy, filled with savory meats and spices, beckoned from the center of the table, while bowls of creamy ajiaco, rich with chicken, corn, and potatoes, offered comfort in every spoonful. As we dove deeper into the spread, fragrant arroz con coco could be found, infused with the sweetness of coconut milk, paired perfectly with tender carne asada, grilled to perfection. With each bite, I discovered new depths of taste and texture, each course a tantalizing array of Colombian tradition, flavor, and love.
The Murillos had a flare for extravagance—if their own attire and demeanor weren’t a testament of that fact, this dinner party surely was. As they bustled about the table, our laughter merging with the clink of silverware and the gentle murmur of conversations in various languages, I couldn’t help but smile that at this moment. This was a part of my life. An evening where every need was met, every dish enjoyed to the fullest, and every guest was made to feel special. I remained sober, but still the stars seemed to shine even brighter in the black of night as the last traces of food were cleared away.
With a gentle smile, Mathias raised his glass, the crystal catching the light.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice carrying with it a sense of warmth and sincerity. “Anna and I are truly honored to welcome you into our home this evening, to share in this celebration of friendship, heritage, and indulgence.”
Anna Maria joined her husband as he switched from English to Spanish, her elegance taking center stage. I assumed he was sharing similar sentiments to all the guests as he added French into his blended speech. Regardless of what he was saying, though, the affect it was having on the guests seemed obvious with smiles erupting from one end of the table to the other.
“Tonight has been wonderful, and thanks to this exquisite woman standing to my right, tomorrow will be another adventure as we travel to one of my favorite places in the Amazon.”
My face scrunched as I tried to understand his meaning. My trip here to Colombia was supposed to last another couple of days, but it sounded like the Murillos would be leaving, making completing our business far more difficult.
“Making the unattainable achievable has always been the name of the game, and I look forward to bringing that to life with the help of my new friends. Cheers! Salud! Acclamations!”
On cue, DeShawn slipped a glass of champagne in my hands. His gaze meeting mine before the clinking of our glasses.
As Mathias and Anna Maria raised their glasses in the final toast, the table echoed out in applause. Perhaps everyone was as slightly confused as I was, given the mixture of languages the Murillos had spoken, but the sentiment was absorbed. The energy of the night feeling higher than ever.
Walking back to our room half an hour later, DeShawn and I discussed the evening’s events which had surpassed both of our expectations.
“It was just wild,” he stated. “I may have gotten a small contact high from that hotel mogul Mathias introduced me to.”
“Oh really?” I grinned. “Y’all kept speaking in Spanish, so I dipped out pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, he was talking about hiring me for an opening of one of their new locations, but he kept taking puffs in between his words, and blowing that shit in my face as he spoke.”
We both laughed, jumping from person to person, topic to topic, our excitement resonating with each word.
“You were the most gorgeous one out there tonight,” he stated somewhat out the blue.
I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes rang with a sincerity that silenced me. I considered myself a confident person, but the evening had been filled with exotic models and beautiful women dripping with style. Therefore, I hardly felt like the most stunning one there. Despite that fact, though, DeShawn always seemed to see me that way. Even when I was straight out of bed, hair wrapped and teeth waiting to be brushed, he’d tell me how beautiful I was in a way that convinced me, too.
Arriving at our doors, I could feel the dynamic between us shift. There was a thickness in the air, as the magic of the day mixed with the possibilities of the night. My eyes unintentionally traveled up his body, lingering on his white button-down that was slightly undone. His side fade was on point, with his short curls adding a sexy touch to his appearance. To be frank, DeShawn looked fine, bringing back the arousal I’d felt seeing him earlier.
“You look good, too,” I caved, and suddenly a smug smile was plastered across his face.
It was true, but I knew my comment would give him a big head as his probably did for me.
Raising onto my tiptoes, I crashed my lips into his, the urge getting the better of me. As he parted his mouth, the soft taste of champagne tickled my senses, before his tongue entered, intensifying the moment. The softness of his lips mixed with the slight wetness of mine from my lip gloss, as our tongues began to dance together.
We had sex on the plane, but it wasn’t until this very moment that I realized we hadn’t touched on the lips, not even once. Kissing Shawn unleashed a whirlwind of memories. Some good. Some naughty. Some sad.
The comfort and security his kiss could bring was in those recollections. The passion it unlocked when I least suspected it. The partnership it confirmed every time our tongues intertwined. All of that was here in this embrace. He felt like … home. His lips being one of my favorite things in this world once upon a time.
Pulling away from him, I could barely move. My thoughts and memories were overwhelming me. I may have been fully clothed, standing in a hallway outside of my room, but somehow, I felt naked. I thought I knew what I wanted from him tonight, as I had on the plane. But in the sober gleam of the hall sconces it was evident that I was wrong. I wasn’t ready for this at all.
“It’s okay,” he stated. “I already know and it’s okay.”
My face must have given me away, although I couldn’t even look at him yet.
He kissed me on my forehead, before opening my door as I remained frozen in my fear.
The rhythm of the evening had lowered all my defenses. All the laughing ringing amidst the chatter, with the symphony of flavors setting off the entire night. I’d been duped from the very first bite, forgetting all my problems and reservations until now. Until we kissed.
And it wasn’t just a simple kiss, but the hypnotizingly delicious kind that you could feel throughout every nerve in your body. It was real, and that authenticity is what made the entire sentiment feel like a lie.
When I finally found my feet again, I turned, entering my room, still unable to meet his eye, but I could feel his gaze upon me. He didn’t question me though. Proof he still knew me better than I thought, as I closed the door, my impenetrable walls scaling back up to full attention.