Page 65 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Because last week you gave the espresso machine a lecture about optimal extraction pressure.”
“That machine needed guidance.”
“It’s a machine, Grayson. It doesn’t need your approval.” He shakes his head. “Just... try to talk about wine like a normal person. Avoid construction metaphors.”
An hour later, I’m standing in Twin Waves Wine & Spirits, watching Jessica study labels with the intensity of a girl preparing for comprehensive exams.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she says when I approach. “I’ve been staring at these bottles, and they all look the same.”
“They’re definitely not the same.” I pause, realizing how little I actually know about wine beyond basic categories. “Though I’m not entirely qualified to explain the differences.”
“Michelle said you have sophisticated taste.”
Michelle is optimistic about my qualifications in numerous areas. “What’s the occasion?”
“Romance.” Jessica’s grin is pure mischief. “The ladies are excited about recent developments in local romantic drama. You two have provided excellent entertainment.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “We’re not entertainment.”
“You absolutely are. Mrs. Hensley witnessed the coffee shop incident and immediately called her entire contact list. Which is basically the whole town.”
Of course she did. Privacy in Twin Waves is purely theoretical.
“So,” Jessica continues, examining a bottle with scientific focus, “what’s your wine philosophy?”
“I prefer red. Michelle prefers white. When in doubt, expensive.”
“See? You do know about wine.” She selects a bottle with impressive confidence. “This one’s perfect. Elegant without being pretentious, sophisticated enough to impress, not so expensive we feel guilty drinking it.”
The cashier, a college student with paint under his fingernails, grins at us. “Wine for the book club meeting? My neighbor Hazel’s in that group. She’s been talking about the romance between the coffee lady and the grumpy developer.”
“I’m not grumpy,” I protest automatically.
“You’re totally grumpy,” Jessica and the kid say in unison.
“But in a good way,” he adds. “Hazel says grumpy guys make the best boyfriends once they figure out how feelings work.”
Outside the wine shop, Jessica turns to me with an expression I can’t quite read. “You know Michelle talks about you constantly, right?”
My pulse jumps. “She does?”
“Your coffee order. Your schedule. The way you actually listen when people talk at meetings.” Jessica pauses. “She notices everything about you.”
“I notice things about her too.”
“Good. Because that woman has been waiting her whole life for someone to really see her. Don’t make her wait much longer.”
The words carry weight I’m not sure I understand, but before I can ask for clarification, my phone buzzes.
Michelle: How’s wine shopping going? Please tell me you’re not explaining grape varietals using construction terminology.
She knows me well enough to predict my potential for social disaster. The realization is both unsettling and intoxicating.
Me: Jessica prevented architectural wine metaphors. Your friends are protective.
Michelle: They’re protective of more than my wine education. Fair warning.
Me: Should I be concerned about interrogation techniques?
