Page 36 of Gone With the Wine

I smile. “That’s the nose.” I take a sip. And savor it. Then I make a noise of delight. “Ohhhh. I think I just had a winegasm.”

He grins. “A what now?”

Wow. That full on smile is…hot.

I give him a cheeky grin. “A winegasm. That little thrill you feel when you take your first sip of a really good wine.”

His smile expands and he shakes his head.

I sip again. “Wow. Full-bodied. Vibrant acidity and smooth tannin.”

Now he takes a sip, his eyes never leaving my face. “Black cherry.”

I smile.

“Oak. Of course.” He sips again. “Silky? That’s not a taste.”

“Mouth feel. That’s a thing. And you’re right, it is silky.”

“There’s something…” He sips again. “Is it cloves?”

I grin. “Yes, I taste that, too.” I toast him, then drink more. “This is exceptional. Thank you for sharing it.”

“Wine is better when it’s shared.”

I can’t stop smiling. “Like a hockey game.”

“Yeah.”

A moment of shared recall stretches out.

“Taste is unique to everybody,” I say. “What really matters is if you like it.”

“Okay. Tell me how to make wine that everyone likes.”

I laugh. “I went to university for four years to learn that, and it doesn’t always work. I’ve had critics pan my best efforts.”

“Well, fuck those idiots.” He frowns.

I laugh again. “I make whatIlike. I can’t try to please everybody.”

“That makes sense.” He drags his gaze away from me and looks around the kitchen. “I promised you dinner.”

“Don’t worry?—”

“No, it’s fine. I picked up some stuff at the farmers’ market yesterday.”

I lean against the counter. “Are you a good cook?”

“Mmm. I like what I cook. I don’t know if that means it’s good.”

“Fair.”

He goes to the fridge and starts pulling things out. “My plan is a sheet pan ratatouille with sausage.” He pauses. “You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“I ate a corn dog last night.”

“Right.” He sets a package of sausages on the counter. “These looked really good. Handcrafted in Petaluma.”

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