Page 20 of Love on the Vine
So Jin and I had attacked the cellar with gusto. Or rather, I had. Jin let me do all the heavy lifting because he’d decided I was supernaturally strong. Really, he just hated sweating.
Jin was a tough and, at times, hypercritical boss. Okay, admittedly, in the beginning I was constantly making mistakes: standing the wine upright when it should have been horizontal; misplacing two very expensive bottles of Petrus that we eventually found; and once dropping a case and breaking a $125 magnum of Champagne. But I didn’t mess up as much as he liked to pretend.
Despite his draconian teaching methods and his tough boss act, Jin was a very sensitive soul and we’d grown close. I’d learned all about his childhood in Singapore, his strained relationship with his father—worse now that he’d finally come out to his parents—and his anxiety about Jake not seeing him as a potential partner in the business.
We didn’t talk much about Jake, thank God, because I would have done a terrible job at hiding my interest in him. Yet, part of me was dying to ask Jin more about him. If there was anyonewho could give me a few more pieces to the main puzzle, it was Jin.
“I’m exhausted,” I announced, gathering up my notebook and wishing that Jin would let me have a glass of wine to help me forget my aching muscles. But he never let me enjoy an entire glass. Every tasting was organized, methodical, and clinical rather than sensual like it had been with Jake. Even now I warmed at the memory of his arms around me when he’d shown me how to open the bottle.
“Nap time?” Jin suggested.
“No, I’m meeting Michel for apétanquelesson. He’s going to show me how to put some spin on the ball.” Jin rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand why I had agreed to join Chantal’s husband and his friends for a nightly game ofboules. I didn’t understand it at first myself, but now I was into it. I’d even beaten Michel yesterday, and he’d given me a bottle of Ricard, an anise-flavored liquor, as a victory gift.
“I’m not interested in hearing about Michel’s balls. However, if you’re going into town, there’s some fantastic limestone near theboulangerie.” During our lesson today, Jin had pulled a handful of chalky stones from his pocket and told me to put them in my mouth. I’d thought he was joking at first, but he’d insisted.
“No way, Jin. I’m not licking rocks in town. It’s bad enough that I speak French like a Neanderthal, I don’t want people thinking I’m deranged.”
“Your loss.” A banging sound from the front of the house made him cover his ears. “There he goes again.”
Jake had been working on his car every afternoon. He was clearly anxious about something, but when I asked Jin about it, he just smirked and wouldn’t give me any answers.
I’d been hoping to talk to Jake about Callie coming this weekend, but not if he was in a bad mood. Maybe when I gotback from pétanque and made dinner I could entice him to eat with me, although I wasn’t counting on it.
He hadn’t eaten my food since our wine tasting, even though I was cooking like a woman possessed these days. I never thought that learning to taste wine would also inspire me to create new recipes, but my tasting notes were filled with ideas for flavor combinations. At night, I made dinner based on perfect pairings for the wines I was allowed to swirl in my mouth but never swallow.
Chantal was also teaching me to make Provençal specialties during my lunch break, and every afternoon I’d bring back some for the boys. Today, I’d madepanisse, little pillows of fried chickpea flour served with a bright tomato sauce, andpissaladière, a savory tart of caramelized onion topped with wrinkled black olives and thin strips of briny anchovies.
As usual though, only Jin had eaten my food. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did.
I left Jin to change into the loose white pants and striped tank top that I jokingly referred to as my pétanque uniform. As I slipped on my tennis shoes, I noticed the cat lurking around by the pool. We too were slowly becoming friends.
He still wouldn’t let me touch him, but he came by every morning for milk and then again in the evening for the scraps of fish that thepoissonniersaved for me. I always had a little plate prepared forle gros matouas Chantal liked to call him.
“At least someone wants to eat my food,” I muttered as I darted into the kitchen and grabbed a little plate of sardines from the refrigerator. But when I went back outside, the cat slunk off toward the front of the house.
I followed him around the corner and ran straight into Jake, nearly dumping the sardines down his shirt.
“Whoa,” he said, steadying me. Then he raised an eyebrow at the contents of the plate. “Afternoon snack?”
“It’s for the cat,” I explained, my heart throbbing in my chest. Damn, he looked good in a thin, grease-stained T-shirt spread taut over his wide shoulders.
“Ah, yeah? How’s that coming along?”
About as well as it is with you, I wanted to say. Instead, I responded, “Okay. I’m trying to think of a name for him. What do you think of Mr. Kitty?”
“Mr. Kitty? The indignity. He definitely won’t come if you call him that.” Jake laughed, giving me my first dimple sighting in days. He took a long drink of water. God, even his neck muscles moving as he drank turned me on.
“What wouldyoucall him then?” I forced myself to play it cool when what I really wanted to do was bury my entire face in his neck and run my tongue over the corded muscle.
“I wouldn’t.” He flicked his dirty towel on top of the car and leaned against it.
“Oh, come on. I found the bag of cat food in the pantry.” I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the somersaults in my stomach. “You’re not as indifferent as you pretend.”
I’d not only stumbled upon an open bag of Purina One, but also a bowl crusted with old milk near the plants in the driveway.
“Guilty as charged.” Jake held up his palms. “But we have an agreement. He knows not to depend on me because I’m not always here and I know not to call him something like ‘Mr. Kitty’ and expect him to let me pet him. I respect his independence.”
Was this a challenge? “Well, I happen to believe that hewantsa name, and hewantsto be touched. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
