Page 30 of A Taste of Chardonnay

The use of baby froze me in place. “Don’t call me that.” Baby was used for lovers, and we were definitely not lovers. He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me.

He shrugged and turned away as if he threw that endearment out all the time. I’d never heard him use it. Till just now.

“I’ll go grab the whiskey.”

“Because that’s the most important thing on the list.”

“We know where everything is, and the power is still on. The whiskey isn’t going to drink itself.” He made his way to the stairs.

“I guess I’ll get the flashlights. You know, the important items.”

“Whiskey will keep me from wanting to strangle you. I’d say that’s priority.”

I narrowed my gaze, tempted to stick my tongue out, but I was an adult, not a child.

“I’ll grab the blankets while I’m up there. Don’t want the princess to get cold.”

I was going to say we should head to the offices. It would be more comfortable, but it would also be closer quarters. Staying in the tasting room gave us plenty of room to keep our distance from one another.

It was bad enough we were stuck together; we didn’t need to really torture ourselves by holing up in a small office.

After I retrieved the flashlights, I placed them on the bar and grabbed a bottle of merlot. If he was going to drink, so was I. Maybe it would keep us from killing each other. The last thing I wanted was my family showing up tomorrow morning to start snow cleanup and finding him dead on the floor.

The stairs creaked, but I didn’t bother to look as the sounds of Brady’s feet on the wood echoed through the unusually quiet tasting room.

I poured my glass and kept the bottle on the bar. It was going to be a long night after all. A bottle of whiskey and a rock glass appeared next to the wine bottle, and a blanket draped over my shoulders.

I blinked up, shocked he didn’t just ball the blanket up and toss it at me. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He plopped on a stool a few away from me and held my Kindle in front of him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to stave off the sudden panic in my voice.

“Just wanted to see what you’re reading.”

“Give me that.” I jumped off the stool, the blanket falling to the floor, and grabbed for my Kindle, but despite my heels, I was five inches too short and a hundred pounds too light. “Stop acting like a child and give it to me.”

“Why would I do that?” He pressed the power button, and my defense mechanisms kicked in. I might’ve been too short, but I was also the oldest of the Grasso sisters, sandwiched between two older brothers and two younger brothers. I knew how to fight.

I went low and threw an elbow into his gut. His stomach was much harder than I anticipated, and he didn’t even bend over as I hoped.

“Did you just elbow me?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, and if you don’t give me my Kindle, I’ll aim for your face.”

“You really don’t want me to look at what you’re reading, do you?”

“A person’s book choice is personal, and, quite frankly, no one else’s business.” I held my hand out. “So if you can refrain from violating my personal space, I would very much appreciate it.”

He pressed the power button again, the screen going black as he handed it to me. “I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Thank you.”

“But now I can only assume you’re reading smut.”

The word annoyed me, but not as much as my desire to hide my hobby as if it was a dirty little secret. “That term is offensive.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

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