Page 100 of Perfect Pairing
Brie sighed, a blissful smile spreading across her face. “I love that man.”
“He loves you too,” I assured her. “That’s why he gets a little crazy.”
“I guess as a parent yourself, you’d know firsthand.”
I nodded. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure Hansen grows up without knowing the pain I’ve endured. I hate more than anything that he already understands what it’s like to lose a parent, exactly like I did, but luckily for him, he gets to grow up with the same role model and teacher I had. Between me and my dad, we shouldn’t screw him up too badly.”
Brie stepped closer to me, sliding her arms around my waistand tipping her head back to look up at me. “That little boy is lucky to have you as a father, Ez. You’re doing amazing with him.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to fight off the emotion suddenly clogging my throat.
“I try,” I croaked eventually, and she rose onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to the underside of my jaw.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the cellar. The walls were exposed brick, and though the space was dry and cool, a slight scent of softly decaying earthiness hung in the air.
“Did you know my great-grandpa opened this place during Prohibition?” Brie asked as she led us through another doorway and down a hallway. No modern updates had been made beyond the installation of electricity, and sconces dotted the walls at regular intervals. Beneath our feet, the floor was hard, packed dirt, loose bits floating upward with every step, turning the air around us hazy.
“I did not,” I replied, curious where she was going. She didn’t actually expect us to sleep down here, did she?
Before I could ask, we reached the end of the line, where our path was blocked by a solid brick wall.
Brie turned to me with a wicked, mischievous grin. “He had to get creative with storing his products. Prohibition ended seven years after this place became operational, so for nearly the first decade of business, my family smuggled wine from right here to much of the Midwest.”
My eyes widened in shock.
“Yep,” Brie said proudly. “Chateau Delatou was built on a foundation of criminal activity. We may be on the right side ofthe law these days, but I like to think some of that recklessness still lives on in me and my sisters.”
From what I’d seen in my years around the family, it definitely did.
“I don’t understand. How did they operate as a winery without being able to…sell wine?”
“Great-Grandpa ran it as one of those old-fashioned soda shoppes. Though, I guess back then, it wouldn’t have been old-fashioned,” she added with a giggle.
“Well, while that’s an interesting piece of Delatou family history, it doesn’t explain what we’re doing down here.”
Wordlessly, Brie reached for the final sconce on the wall, gripped its base, and pulled.
A moment later, after a loudthunkand much lower, ominous creaking, a crack appeared in the brick wall before us.
“Smuggler tunnels,” I breathed.
“Smuggler tunnels,” she confirmed with a smirk. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble my sisters and I got into down here as kids. We’d climb on each other’s shoulders to reach the sconce and go crazy.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can imagine,” I said with a laugh. “Where does it lead?”
Brie pressed a palm flat on the door and pushed it further open. “Follow me and find out.”
Then she disappeared beyond the door, the darkness swallowing up her body almost instantly.
I could do nothing but trail after her, curiosity dragging me forward.
Emboldened by the darkness that descended once I crossed thethreshold and the door shut behind me, I reached out blindly for Brie. As my hand connected with what I assumed was her arm, she stilled, and I used that moment to locate her hips and latch on.
I pushed her backward until her body collided with something hard.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“What are you doing?”
