Page 7 of Shortcake
I smiled at the way his shoulders tensed and he adjusted his erection again before shutting the door.
* * *
At five fifty-five,I was already at Joe Allen’s, seated at the quiet two-top in the corner, as the server held up a bottle of Moscato for me to confirm my order while waiting for Brawny to arrive.
I nodded at the server, because what the hell else are you supposed to do when they present you with the bottle? Then, he slowly poured me a sip.
Again, like I was supposed to know what I was trying to taste for here.
Wine wasn’t usually my go-to. I was way more a beer kind of girl … who also had the occasional vodka tonic.
I always felt like a poser drinking wine. Like I was trying to be more sophisticated than I actually was. And let’s be real, I was a lot of things, but sophisticated wasn’t one of them.
But tonight felt different. Tonight, here in New York, recently single, I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could be Anita—a sophisticated woman of the world who drinks red wine with dinner.
Face down on the table beside my napkin, my cell phone buzzed just as I was about to take a sip.
I paused, glass lifted midway to my lips, and turned my cellphone over, stealing a quick glance. My little brother’s name blinked on the screen calling me.
I loved Finn. If anything, I think I was closer with him than my own twin, Liam. But I really didn’t want to talk to him right now. Not while I was attempting to be this new, best version of myself.
I silenced the call and set the phone back down. Lifting the glass to my lips, I swirled and sniffed like I had any clue what I was doing, then finally, took a sip.
My entire face puckered. Was wine supposed to taste so… so…sweet? It was like drinking candied grapes.
“Well?” the server asked, not exactlyimpatiently, but also not without a little smugness.
I forced a swallow and smiled, though I was pretty sure it came out as a grimace. “It’s…”Great. Just say it’s great, Addy.
“Could we do a bottle of the grüner veltliner instead?” a deep voice crooned from behind the server.
I blinked, looking up to find Brawny towering over our server who gave a polite nod and scurried off, seemingly to find a bottle of something that sounded like a medieval plague rather than wine.
Brawny smiled and took his seat across from me. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, the low raspy hum of his voice reminding me of his groans of pleasure while he made love to me last night. “You literally looked like you were going to throw up that sip of…”
He paused, reaching across the table to lift what was left in the taste of Moscato. He put his nose in the glass inhaling, then pulled a face of his own. “Moscato? Ugh.”
“Yeah, I guess I don’t like Moscatos, huh?”
He shrugged. “They’re usually the sweetest of all the red wines. But they do make dry Moscato, too. A lot like merlot, they sometimes get a bad rap.”
“Well this one earned its bad reputation.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. They’ve never really been my thing, either. And if you don’t like the Grüner either, no worries.”
I smiled at him, folding my hands beneath my chin. “You’re a wine guy, huh?”
He snorted. “Hardly. I prefer beer. But my ex liked wine, so I got to know the few types I like.”
“Which are?”
“The Grüner Veltliner—Austrian. White. Not too sweet. Cabernet Sauvignon. And Bordeaux are usually my go-tos.”
“Fancy.”
He snorted. “Hardly. But it comes in handy occasionally. Like on dates with sexy women I’m trying to impress the day after Halloween.”
“Mmmm. Happens a lot to you then?”
