Page 39 of Sweet Escape

“It’s delicious, thanks,” I reply. “I’m a chardonnay snob, and this is one of the best I’ve tried in quite a while.”

He rests one hand on the countertop, the other on his hip. “The 2016 reflects the dry spell we had that year.”

“Yeah,” I say, lifting it to my nose. “It’s got a toasty vibe.”

“That’s the oak barrels and a bit of vanilla.” He chuckles. “Toasty vibe. I like that.”

I laugh. “I call it like I see it.”

“Cory,” he says, sticking his hand out.

I set down my glass and place my hand in his. “Vivian. Nice to meet you, Cory.”

“I’ve seen you here before. A couple of days ago. You visiting or new to the area?”

“Ah, visiting. Just in town for a few weeks for a little working vacay. Murphy told me Rosewood is the best place for an escape, and she was right.”

Cory’s head tilts to the side. “Oh, so you know the Hawthorne family?”

I swirl my wineglass. “I do. Murphy and I have been friends for a long time.”

“You from LA, then?”

“Yup. Born and raised.”

He laughs. “I didn’t think anyone was actuallyfromLA. I thought everyone moved there from somewhere else.”

I laugh too, enjoying the truth in his words.

But before I can respond, a familiar figure steps behind the bar.

“Are we working, Cory? Or flirting?”

Memphis’s question clearly flusters the bartender, but instead of giving Cory a chance to say anything, Memphis speaks again.

“The kitchen needs help with bringing out dishes.”

It takes a second for Cory to understand he’s being dismissed to go help somewhere else in the restaurant. Once he does, he tucks his bar rag into a back pocket and heads that way, barely glancing my way as he goes.

“It would be nice if I could talk toanyof your bartenders without you sending them off to do something else like I’m some kind of leper.”

“You know whatelsewould be nice? If you weren’t always trying to talk to my bartenders.”

I smirk, leaning forward. “A little jealous? Because I promise you, I have no interest in Cory. There’s only one man in this restaurant that I want to see naked.”

His nostrils flare. “You already saw me naked,” he grumbles, his voice dipping low.

“No, Ifeltyou naked,” I reply, my eyes trailing him up and down. “In the pitch black. And since I don’t have infrared vision, I can guarantee you that I have not seen all I want to see.” I pause. “Yet.”

Memphis shakes his head, his lips upturned the tiniest bit. “You are incredibly stubborn.”

“I prefer tenacious. Speaking of seeing you naked, I have a proposal for you.”

He winces and glances at his watch in an overly dramatic fashion. “So sorry, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be, so ...” Then he taps the bar top twice and heads off, just as Cory returns with a glass rack filled with freshly washed wineglasses.

“Thanks for the wine,” I tell Cory, dropping cash on the bar as Memphis pushes through the back patio door and steps outside. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

I haven’t gotten a full tour of the property yet, since Murphy was supposed to take me around but then got pulled away to San Francisco. Thankfully, the instructions about where to meet for the tour were very simple and specific. All tours now leave from the restaurant patio.

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