Page 132 of Gone With the Wine

That smile reassures me that I’m doing the right thing.

Yeah, I recruited Rosa to help me. Luckily, she was a willing accomplice. And with that smile, she disappears back up the stairs.

Bianca slowly steps down the remaining stairs. She eyes me warily, a small groove between her eyebrows, a troubled bow to her mouth. “I thought you were in Los Angeles.”

“How did you hear that?” I only told one person where I was going.

“Millie said she heard it from Oren at the market.”

I throw up my hands. “How the hell did he know?”

“Millie said his sister works at the airport in San Franciso and she must have seen you.”

“Jesus Christ.” I rub my forehead.

Bianca shrugs. “That’s how it goes here.” Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip briefly. “Why did you go to Los Angeles?”

I can read the apprehension and worry in her expression. “I had to talk to Stephanie.”

Her bottom lip quivers but she catches it her teeth again. “That’s what I thought. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, no.” But I sigh because I don’t blame her for jumping to that ludicrous conclusion. Serves me right.

I’m standing next to an oak barrel that I’m using as a table. I reach for the bottle of wine there and pour some into two glasses. “Here. We do need to talk.”

“Well.” She walks closer. “You know I can’t turn down wine.” Her gaze lowers to the bottle and she lifts eyes that are now as big and round as hockey pucks. “That’s my wine.”

“I had to taste it.” I hand her a glass.

She lets out a short puff of air and a ghost of a smile passes over her lips. “Jansen.”

I shrug.

“Where did you get it? I don’t think you can find it here.”

“Los Angeles. I had to hunt all over the fucking city for it, but I found it.”

Her lips twitch. “So taste it,” she prods me gently. “Tell me what you think.”

I swirl the glass, inhale the aromas. “Complex,” I say. “Although I’m probably the least qualified person to be judging this.”

Her lips curve upwards a little more.

I taste the wine and savor it, concentrating. “Intense. I taste minerals.”

She nods.

“Am I crazy to say I taste peppers? Like, roasted red pepper.”

Her smile broadens. “Not crazy at all.”

“Mmm…black cherry. Chocolate. And…” I sip again. “Spices. I’m not sure what they are. Cinnamon, maybe? And a hint of vanilla, which I think is from aging in oak.”

“Yes.”

“It’s amazing, Bianca. Mouth watering. I can see why it’s nominated for an award.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes glow with pleasure.

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