Page 11 of Perfect Pairing
Neither my dad nor I were looking forward to keeping our driveway clear, however. I was a city boy to my bones; I’d never needed to learn how to use a snow blower, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d do when the winery closed from January through March. Since I finished my culinary arts program and became a full-time chef, I’d never had much down time, and I had even less as a father.
Maybe Dad and I would tackle some house projects…
The gravel of the lot crunched satisfyingly under my tires as I pulled in and parked near the front door, then my shoes as I made my way inside. Leon and Lena waited for me, glasses of red wine resting on the table in front of them.
Leon shook my hand when I reached the table, and I dropped a kiss to Lena’s cheek.
“Would you like some wine?” she asked as I sat.
“I have to work later,” I reminded her.
She shot her husband a wink and said, “I don’t think your boss will mind.”
On cue, my boss raised his own glass and tilted it toward me in toast. Lena poured me a healthy serving, and I lifted it to my nose, inhaling the cherry and chocolate notes of Chateau Delatou’s signature Pinot Noir. When I sipped, aromatic liquid hit my tongue, spreading over my taste buds. I savored theflavors before I swallowed, sighing when warmth instantly hit my stomach and coated my limbs.
“So good,” I said when I returned my glass to the table.
“The best,” Leon agreed. “Lena worked hard perfecting all our recipes.”
I quirked a brow. “You mean these aren’t the ones your family started with?”
Leon boomed out a laugh as Lena chuckled indulgently beside him. “Hell no,” he said. “I loved my grandfather, but that swill they produced back then is nothing compared to the stuff we make now.”
“I’m sure technology has a lot to do with it.”
“That and…well, I’m a certified sommelier, so I like to think I know my way around a wine blend,” Lena said.
I blinked, surprised. These people were truly fascinating, and I loved simple meetings like this, when we got to sit and converse. I learned more about them each time, and it amazed me how poised they both seemed while running a wildly successful business and raising five daughters. Some days, I could barely keep my head above water with one kid. I’d spent time traveling after culinary school, and I could honestly say I hadn’t met anyone as worldly as Leon and Lena Delatou.
“How do you do it all?” I blurted.
The skin between Leon’s brows puckered, but Lena gave me a soft, understanding smile.
“We had help,” she said, reaching out to place her hand over mine. “A lot of it.”
I nodded and swallowed thickly. “Thank you for being that for us. I know we’ve only been here a few months, but I have noidea how we’d survive without you.”
“Anytime,” she said. “We never got the chance to raise a boy, and now that our babies are grown, well…it’s nice to have that energy back around the house. Hansen is a wonderful kid, far too smart for a two-year-old,” she added with a chuckle.
I snorted. “Don’t I know it.”
“But really, we don’t mind.”
I took Lena at her word. This winery and the enterprise it represented was their livelihood, sure, but their daughters were their entire world. Since moving to town, I’d met all but one. Chloe was the oldest, the one Leon hoped to pass the mantle to one day. Delia, the classic middle child, practically burst with restless energy and had a wild streak. I could admit, though—the girl was a hell of a social media strategist. Ella, the quiet second youngest with dainty, fine line tattoos lining her arms, had a love for flowers and nature.
And, of course, there was Brie.
The baby.
The baker.
The girl I hadn’t been able to get out of my head for nearly three months.
I didn’t know how to explain it other than to say something electrified the air between us that day, and I’d been shocked by my reaction to her. After Shannon, I was sure I’d never feel that way about anyone ever again. Hell, I’d never really felt it for her. But Brie Delatou called to some basic part of me, and learning she was moving away for a year had settled like a lead weight in my stomach.
She’d felt it too, right? The spark? She hadn’t been able to takeher eyes off me, and she’d agreed so quickly when I asked if she wanted to bake for me sometime.
No, she definitely felt it—as had her parents. It was why Leon had made that comment about us only being friends.
