Page 14 of Taken With You
They were consenting adults.
“Garrick,” she said, sounding winded. “Why couldn’t we do this in the cabin?”
Because it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol when you and I are one staircase away from a bed.
He said, “We need perspective.”
“You need to concentrate on what I’ll be teaching you, not the magnificent view.”
Of your legs.
“I mean a newmentalperspective.” He shifted the picnic basket to his other hand. “Your attention will be divided if we’re anywhere near the crush pad.”
“Don’t worry about my focus. You dialed that up about a thousand percent.”
“We’ve got an hour. Do your best.”
She made a sound like a balloon losing air. “You realize that people spend a lifetime learning about wine.”
“I just need the basics.” They came up over the rise to a view of Sonoma County below. “I’m good at cramming.”
“There’s no way to turn lead into gold.”
“Ouch.” He dropped the picnic basket in a shaded clearing and grimaced at her. “Direct hit.”
“Not. Unjustified.”
She glared, stony. He hadn’t yet seen Angry Amanda. The woman was petite but she packed a lot of passion.
“Listen. I can’t manufacture light-up pens, either, but I can still run the company.”
“It’s not that.” She shifted her stance. “You should have told me this earlier, before I signed the partnership agreement.”
“I didn’t want you to change your mind.”
Her jaw flexed. “Partners tell each other everything.”
Not quite. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her he was jealous of Miguel’s proximity to her little cot in the cave.
“Here. Hydrate.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the basket and held it out. “Breathe. Then forgive me.”
She swiped the water out of his hand, unscrewed the top, and drank. He tugged a red-checkered tablecloth out of the basket and spread it over the ground. Dropping down onto it, he pulled out two sourdough baguettes, some soft cheese, and searched through multiple bottles of wine to pluck out half a dozen red apples.
As he arranged the feast, she frowned, water bottle in one hand, cocked hip in the other. “If you know nothing about wine, how did you manage all this?”
“The young woman at the store was very accommodating.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She dropped down next to the basket and twisted the bottles to glimpse the labels. “Not a bad selection. Smart to stick to Northern California wines.”
“And they all have corks.”
“Don’t judge a wine by how it’s sealed. White wines do well with screw caps and so do young reds.” She sank back, puzzled. “Haven't you ever taken clients out to fancy restaurants?”
“Picking the wine was my partner’s job.”
“Your partner?”
“Dominic.” She must have done a Web search on him. “My brother.”
