Page 35 of Gone With the Wine

“He was a good boy.’ I smile, determined to be upbeat. “I’m sure Jack is, too.”

He grimaces. “I’ve never had a dog. He’s a lot of work.”

“Aw. Are you?” I rub his head again. “That’s okay. He needs you.”

“I don’t need a dog.”

“Everyone needs a dog. Dogs are unconditional love. All you have to do is feed and water them, play with them a bit, and be kind, and they’ll love you no matter what.”

We both standand walk farther into the house, Jack prancing behind us. I’m not even sure why I’m here. I’d planned to go see Uncle Geno at Belmonte today, but when faced with a choice of looking at beautiful grapes with a handsome man or giving my uncle shit…I chose this.

Well, there was also business. I wanted to see his amazing lab. Because I already know my answer to his plea for help.

As I step down into the sunken living room, I look around. Eek. I do remember it from my teenage years, and he’s right, it hasn’t changed much. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth as I take in the orange and brown patterned carpet covering the floor. The massive stone fireplace fills one wall, and another wall is paneled with wood. “I see what you mean. That carpet is hideous. It has a great mid-century modern vibe, though. This house probably was probably built in the sixties. You could totally take advantage of that and have a really cool look.”

“I don’t know what mid-century modern is.”

“Oh. Check out some pictures online. That teak paneling is amazing.” I point at the living room wall. “The fireplace is a little…overwhelming. But I love the vaulted ceiling and the big windows…” I stop myself. “Sorry.” I’m babbling. Now that I’m out of my element—the lab, the cellar—I’m freaking out.

This man unnerves me. He followed me around, watching me intently, making my skin hot and sensitive. I could focus on grapes and pH levels and tannins in the vineyard, and in the lab. But now, I’m in his house and I’m flustered, and how the hell is this man so fascinating? So appealing.

“The first thing I’m renovating is the kitchen,” he says. “Come on.”

I follow him into the kitchen. Jack’s little nails click over the floor as he comes along with us. “I see what you mean.” I drag my fingertips over the chipped green laminate counter and study the wood cabinets. “At least your appliances aren’t avocado green.”

His lips twitch.

“But there’s lots of space to make it a dream kitchen. You could reconfigure it and have a big island and…” I stop again. “I probably watch too much HGTV.”

He gives a little huff that might be amusement as he pauses in front of a wine rack and pulls out a bottle. He holds it up for my inspection.

I nod.

As he cuts off the foil and works the cork out of the bottle, I spy glasses on a shelf and I move to pick up two of them. “These are gorgeous glasses.”

“Thanks. I don’t know that much about wine, but I like drinking it out of nice glasses.”

“Oh, me too! I love a nicely shaped glass. And a delicate stem.” I trace my fingers over the glass, aware of his gaze following my motions. Which makes me aware that my nails are dirty. Shit. But when I look up at him, his eyes are hot. And so am I. “Are you still using corks?” I blurt.

“No.” He clears his throat. “We’ve moved to screw caps.”

I nod. “I approve.”

“I was afraid you were going to give me shit for that.” He pours the wine into the glasses.

I laugh. “Nah. I get the appeal of corks. The tradition. They’re a renewable resource. But we have to be practical, too.”

“Screw caps are much more affordable.”

“Exactly.”

He hands me a glass and picks up his own. Our eyes meet.

His attention dips to my mouth and lingers. My belly swoops and my thighs quiver. “To…perfectly ripened grapes,” I say softly, lifting my glass.

He touches the rim of his glass to mine with a delicate ping. Again he watches me as I swirl and sniff. “Oh yeah. Black fruit and violet. The age gives it notes of cedar and eucalyptus.”

A notch forms between his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if that sounds tasty.”

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