Page 32 of Our Sadie

Nor do I care to know.

Sometimes it’s best to swerve around that shadow on the pavement when you’re pretty sure it’s a pothole.

Sadie is the one who breaks eye contact first when she picks up her pencil and sedately rates each vintage with barely legible, deliberate strokes. If writing something out is that difficult for her, it’s no wonder she hesitated. Not that she ever mentions her injuries. She hasn’t complained about her situation, but she hasn’t explained it, either.

I’ll keep letting her lead on that.

She rates a mellow, buttery merlot as a four out of five. It’s her highest.

“Care for more of wine number three?”

“Do you have more varieties to tempt my taste buds?”

She lowers her lashes when she inquires about this. Allows them to flutter over her cheeks enticingly as she peers back over at me. It’s not an overt flirtation, but it’s something I won’t ignore.

“I do.”

Rinsing out her glass at a miniature-sized sink behind me, I return it to Sadie along with five new choices. None of those receives over a four, either, but one of them ties. A cabernet sauvignon. “Would you like a glass of the merlot or the cabernet sauvignon?”

She evaluates the bottles, then hands me her glass. “You tell me. What’s your opinion?”

Dutifully, I taste both, finding each rich and full-bodied. But the first one appeals to me more.

“If it were up to me, I’d take the merlot.”

“Wine me up, then.”

I sock the rest of the bottles away, watching out of the corner of my eye as she sips at it. Then, I put on my best swagger, leaning over her. “Care to find out what part two of this magnificent evening entails?”

“That depends.” Another lowering of those lashes. “Are you going to blindfold me again?”

Does she want me to blindfold her again?

“Not yet, but let’s just say doing so later is very much on the table.” I’m rewarded for this purred sentiment with the creeping up of her lips at each corner. Not enough to be considered a smile, but it’s a more accessible expression than she typically wears.

It’s why I’m cautiously optimistic as we hike out of the basement, me carrying her glass. So far, so good.

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