Page 10 of Stocking Stuffers
Karen and Andie led them through the breakfast room into the hearth room. The fire had died down to glowing embers, making it cozy and warm. The Romeros didn’t stop to admire the charm. They grabbed Sasha’s hands and dragged her through the formal dining room—all decked out with boxwood wreaths, winterberries, and unlit candles—to the laundry room and the cellar door.
“The code is 1225,” Karen said. “Christmas.”
“Cute,” Sasha said. She reached back for the éclair Perry was holding, and he handed it over. She grinned.
The wine cellar wasn’t anything special, but the Romeros gasped in excitement and started talking a mile a minute.
“What type of wine do you like?” Perry asked Sasha, while their chaperones were distracted.
She shrugged and ran her finger over a dusty bottle. “Cheap and red. Maybe boxed.”
“Oh dear,” he said. “That will not do at all.”
“Are you a wine snob?” She lowered her voice. “I refuse to sleep with a wine snob.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m not a snob. I have taste. There’s a difference.” Though being newly unemployed had made his wine obsession a bit complicated, but that was what was wonderful about having a sister with a well-stocked cellar.
Andie appeared in front of them, a grin lighting up her expressive face. She was wearing black lipstick and looked like a total badass. “Hey, wine snob. You choose. You’ll know what’s too expensive. We don’t want to piss your sister off when we filch it.”
He watched as Sasha finished her chocolate éclair, her lips wrapping around the luscious dessert. He knew just the thing. Humming, he stepped over to the short, squatty bottles of port and late harvest zins.
The 2013 Venge Vineyard Late Harvest Zinfandel.Perfect.
Karen strolled over and nicked it from his hands. “A dessert wine when only one of us has had dessert.” She threw a glance over her shoulder at Sasha. “How fitting.”
“Let’s go back upstairs and have dessert, then, ladies.” Perry tried to send Karen his most winning smile, hoping to charm his favorite FBI analyst.
After a long beat of side-eye, Karen said, “I like where your mind’s at, kid.”
She took Andie by the hand, still holding the wine bottle, and directed them out of the cellar.
They reached the hearth room. Someone had set it back to rights from the Staunchly Raunchy Book Club, so there was no longer a circle of chairs. It was once again a cozy sitting area with the wood-burning fireplace as the centerpiece.
“Why don’t you all sit,” he said. “I’ll get us wine glasses and the desserts.”
“I’ll help,” Sasha said.
Perry gathered up four wine glasses and a corkscrew, and Sasha grabbed the platter of leftover desserts and a stack of small plates. There were chocolate éclairs, apple tarts, slices of German chocolate cake, chocolate-covered cherries, and lemon bars.
“God, who made all this? It looks amazing,” Sasha said.
“Probably Valerie. The inn has a chef, Eden, but Valerie was a pastry chef before taking over here, and she likes to flex those baking muscles every once in a while. Plus, the chocolate cake is our mother’s recipe.”
They slipped back into the hearth room and were met with quite the romantic display. Andie and Karen had cuddled up on a loveseat and were whispering with their heads together. Karen laughed at something Andie said in her ear, a secret, soft laugh that was completely at odds with her usual toughness. Then she lifted Andie’s fingers to her lips to kiss her knuckles.
“Sweet,” Perry said quietly.
Sasha smiled, but it was almost pained. Sad. “Yep. Very.”
“Oh, there you two are! Bring us the corkscrew, slowpoke,” Andie called to Perry from across the room.
Sasha dished out their desserts for them. Perry opened the wine and poured everyone generous helpings. He grabbed an éclair—Sasha had eaten his earlier—and settled down into a large, comfy wingback chair next to the fire. Sasha selected a few chocolate-covered cherries and a piece of German chocolate cake.
Perry couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she took her first bite of cake. She hummed happily, watching the fireplace, then took a sip of wine. The deep red of the wine against the berry-color of her lips made him dizzy and hot. He wanted her to love the wine. He wanted her to love the cake.
Hell, he just didn’t want her to be incredibly upset about being stuck here at his family’s legacy. Here with him.
She moaned. “Shit, this is good.”
