Page 11 of The Bear's Mail Order Mate

Was she ready for this? Was she good enough?

A flutter of nerves stirred in her stomach. If Kris was going to push forward with plans for the restaurant because of her, she did not want to let him down.

But as her gaze landed on Kris, the flutter turned to excitement. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was fate. She was meant to see that ad, and she was meant to be here.

Was it ridiculous that she sensed he felt something, too?

He paused before a row of large barrels, resting his palm on the smooth oak. “We have a mixture of both French and American oak here,” he explained. “Different barrels for different wines, different intensities. You can get everything from subtle vanilla notes to deep smoky undertones.”

Cassia nodded, absorbing his words. “I’d love to note these differences. It’ll help me think about the menu. The kind of dishes that might go well with the intensities you get from each aging process.”

Kris flicked his gaze to her, and she was struck by how earnest he looked. Despite the jokes about a non-existent job, he believed in this place. It radiated off him in the way he lingered over the details, the way he smoothed his fingers across the barrel’s surface as though it were precious.

She closed her eyes briefly, imagining his fingers trailing across her skin as if she were precious to him, too.

“So, shall we?” he said, and her eyes flew open as her cheeks flushed pink. It was a good thing he could not read her mind.

But she sure would love to read his. What exactly did he think of her? It’s not every day that a stranger turns up unannounced for an interview for a nonexistent job. Yet he’d been such a gentleman about the whole thing.

“Cassia?”

She shook her head, trying to focus, but it was near impossible when he was so close. “Sorry, I was just thinking about…”You, a small voice inside her added.

“Thinking about?” He leaned slightly forward, his dark eyes mesmerizing. And she longed to thread her hands around his neck and pull him closer.

“The wines, the menu…” She smiled brightly—too brightly. “But I should probably learn more about your different vintages before I start planning anything concrete.”

“Then come this way.” Kris motioned for her to follow him toward a steel platform where a few smaller barrels were set apart. “This batch has been aging for about twelve months. It’s one of our more experimental blends. We tried a heavier Cabernet base with some lighter, fruitier grapes for a layered effect. Do you want to sample?”

Cassia smiled and nodded, never able to say no to tasting. “Absolutely.”

Kris grabbed a small, stainless steel sampling tube from a nearby hook and carefully drew out a measure of deep, ruby-red liquid. Cassia held out her glass, and he poured the sample into a slow stream. The wine’s aroma wafted up to meet her senses before it even settled. She closed her eyes to focus, inhaling slowly. “Ooh,” she murmured softly. “Dark fruit…blackberries, maybe a hint of blackcurrant. And there’s a bit of spice—cinnamon? Possibly clove?”

Kris watched her intently. “That’s exactly what we’re aiming for. A bit of depth and warmth.”

She took a sip, letting the wine linger on her tongue. It was bold, a touch tannic, but still balanced enough to leave a smooth finish. “I’m picturing a menu item that plays with those same spice elements. Maybe something slow-cooked—short ribs with a cinnamon-clove rub. That would really draw out the warm notes.”

His eyes lit up. “Short ribs, huh? I can see that being a hit in a cozy vineyard setting.” A self-conscious grin tugged at his lips. “Look at us, brainstorming. Feels good to be making progress, right?”

She let out a small laugh. “Yeah, it does. A lot better than me standing around, feeling like I’d stumbled into some kind of cosmic misunderstanding.”

“A cosmic understanding, huh?” He looked as though he wanted to say more, then hesitated. “Anyway, I have a feeling your ideas could really inspire us.” He then quickly added, “To actually start the restaurant.”

She’d never seen herself as inspiring anyone or anything before. But it was hard not to be inspired by Thornberg Vineyard. Or Kris Thornberg himself, a man who surely could work magic, judging by the wines she’d tasted so far.

She lowered her gaze to the wine in her glass, staring at the swirl of deep red. She could fall for a man like him.

But that was not happening. She needed to keep her personal life separate from her professional one, or she might blow this chance at a dream job.

She caught Kris watching her, and for a breathless second, she wondered if he could read her thoughts. The notion made her heart pound. She cleared her throat, setting the glass aside on a nearby barrel. “I should probably jot some notes down before we move on.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “My mind’s racing with ideas, and I don’t want to forget any.”

Kris nodded, stepping aside to give her space. “Sure, go for it. I’ll draw another sample if you’d like, from an older barrel we keep around the corner.”

“That’d be great,” Cassia agreed, rummaging in her purse for a small notepad and pen. It was bright pink, a reminder of the lightheartedness she used to feel before her fiancé’s betrayal. Focus on the now, she told herself, flipping it open. At the top of the page, she wroteThornberg Vineyard - Sample Blends, then quickly scribbled tasting notes:

Crisp fruit with a subtle spice—blackcurrant, blackberries. Potential dish: spiced short ribs or slow-cooked lamb with a cinnamon-clove rub.

She paused, chewing her lower lip, then jotted down a quick reference:12 months in American oak, heavier on Cab base.

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