Page 67 of Perfect Pairing
Once we were seated—and I was once again forced to make sweeping cutting motions across my throat at our waitress behind Damian’s back as she approached our table—he took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of wine to share.
“I’m a bit of a wine-o,” he said, giving me a sheepish grin. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I shook my head. “Go for it.”
Our waitress stood idly by while Damian perused the menu, and I was annoyed on her behalf. He could have asked her to come back, but he held up a finger when she said she’d give us a moment to decide…then proceeded to ask questions about every wine on the menu.
The poor girl’s eyes kept darting to me, knowing I couldanswer them all better than she could, but I was just along for the ride, and what a bumpy one it was proving to be.
At last, Damian said, “We’ll take a bottle of the 2000 Cabernet.” He grinned at me as he handed the wine menu back to the waitress, who scurried away quickly.
When she returned with our bottle, Damian poured us each healthy servings, swirling his around and holding it up to his nose.
“Great bouquet,” he said absentmindedly then took a small sip, smacking his lips together as he let the liquid coat his tongue.
God, I needed to get out of here.
Desperate to take the edge of my annoyance, I swallowed a large mouthful despite my dislike of Cab, and Damian narrowed his eyes on me.
“You’re supposed to savor it.”
I plastered a phony smile on my face and shrugged. “Sorry.”
“I will say, though, I’ve sampled wine all over the world, and this”—he brandished his glass, the deep red liquid sloshing up the sides, dangerously close to the rim—“is really good liquid for this being such a small operation.”
I’d lifted my water glass to my mouth to wash away that dry mouth feel the Cab left on my tongue, and I was grateful that pretending to choke on the water covered the sound I made over his comment.
There was nothing small about the Chateau Delatou operation. This winery was the flagship business, where everything was made, bottled, and shipped from, yes. But our wines were in restaurants, bars, and clubs across the entire globe. We’d won numerous awards for quality, taste, and packaging, going toe-to-toewith other big-name wineries in the world and beating them.
But I wasn’t going to waste my breath explaining that to him. Instead, I nodded and drank my wine as quickly as I could, grateful when the waitress returned to take our orders.
“I’ll have the ribeye,” Damian said. “Medium rare, with Hasselback potatoes and a garden salad.”
“Dressing?”
“Whatever you’ve got for vinaigrette,” he said. “On the side, please.
The waitress nodded then turned her attention to me. “And for you?”
“I’ll have the whitefish cakes with a Caesar salad on the side.” I lifted my empty wine glass. “And could I also get a glass of Lena’s Best Sangria.”
The waitress grinned as she punched my order into her tablet. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back with that.”
When she disappeared again, Damian turned a disappointed frown on me. “You don’t like the wine?”
“I’m not really a Cab girl,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s okay,” he said, reaching across the table to pat my hand condescendingly. “Not everyone can have a palate as refined as mine.”
God, what was wrong with this guy? What happened to the sweet man I’d spent the last week around? The one who seemed genuinely interested when I told him about the businesses lining Main Street alongside the bakery? Who raved about my food and the slice of paradise in a small town I’d carved out for myself?
Conversation was stilted—and mostly one-sided—after that, and I heaved a sigh of relief when our food arrived, saving mefrom having to make any more small talk about his travels or stupid TikTok follower count.
For the record, Delia had more followers than him, and she rarely ever talked about it. But Delia and Damian were clearly very different people. One was someone I loved deeply, who was loyal and funny and would literally give anyone the shirt off her back if they needed it.
The other was…a douche.
I eagerly dug into my meal, my mood lightening for the first time since we walked into the building as the first bite of the whitefish cake hit my tongue. The smoked fish, combined with the spices and bright cheese, was heaven in my mouth. I hadn’t let myself enjoy Ezra’s food in too long, but in that moment, I happily let his expertise distract me from my disastrous date.
