Page 17 of Christmas Spirit
Never had champagne…? Roland looked from the bottle to Georgie and then back again. How could Georgie never have had champagne? But he knew. A kitchen boy’s wages would barely run to a discount bottle of basic wine, let alone champagne of this quality.
“Everybody should drink champagne, even if only once.”
With an expert twist of the bottle, the cork popped, releasing a sigh and a plume of smoky vapour. Filling the glasses, he picked them up by the stems and took them over to the window, where Georgie gazed out into the blackness, his brow pressed to the pane, a little cloud of condensation forming from his warm breath.
Roland held out the glass. Georgie looked at it, then at Roland, and back at the glass before he shook his head.
“If I don’t have any, then I won’t have to pay.”
“You don’t have to pay. At all. I told you I’d take care of the bill, just like I will for this. I’ve opened it, so you may as well join me.”
“You said you’d pay for the accommodation. Thank you. But that’s all. Anything else, and I’ll pay my share. But I can’t afford to pay for as much as a sniff of that.”
“For goodness sake. Will you just take it?” Roland snapped. “You said you’d never tasted champagne, well here’s your chance. And it’s a good one, too.”
Georgie stared at the glass, making no effort to take it as he chewed on his lower lip, indecision dancing in his grey eyes.
“If there’s one time of year to drink champagne, it’s Christmas,” Roland added, his gaze trained on Georgie, watching the younger man’s resolve weaken.
“Well, I suppose so… It’s not like I’m going to get another chance… But just the one glass, just to be able to say I drank champagne.”
Georgie took a tentative sip. Roland half turned, feigning that he wasn’t watching Georgie. He tamped down the smile that threatened to break out at Georgie’s expected exclamation.
“Wow, that’s – I don’t know what, but I like it.”
Roland wheeled the trolley over to the sofa. If he was going to be drinking champagne of this quality, he’d do it in comfort. Sighing, he settled back into the plush cushions, letting the champagne do its work, letting it ease the tensions and frustrations from his muscles. So comfortable. No wonder Georgie had fallen asleep. He glanced at Georgie — and his near empty glass.
“Here,” Roland said, topping him up. “But take it slower this time. Savour. Feel the weight on your tongue, and the juicy burst of flavour. You’ll never taste anything this good.”
“Wouldn’t quite say that.” Georgie spluttered and coughed at the same time.
Mortification gripped Roland hard, pulling him tight. What in God’s name had he sounded like? But he knew, and so did Georgie. No wonder the boy had laughed.
“What I meant—”
“I know what you meant. Wine tasting speak. Shouldn’t have bolted it down, I know that much, but it’s so good. The second-best thing I’ve tasted. Yeah, definitely the second.” Georgie laughed again, his shoulders jiggling up and down as he took a small sip, his tongue lapping at his damp lips.
The second-best thing…
Georgie’s words went straight to Roland’s balls. Roland’s sip turned into a slug, and like Georgie, he spluttered and coughed.
“Take it slower this time. Savour—”
“Yes, all right. Don’t be a smart arse. And there’s no need to repeat my—”
“Gentlemen. I trust your pre-dinner apéritif is acceptable?”
Nicholas stood in the doorway, his hands resting on his round stomach. He was smiling, but there was something more, something akin to satisfaction, as though what he was seeing pleased him. No, that was ridiculous, it was—
“Very. Roland reckons it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted…” Georgie’s words dissolved into a snort of laughter as he gulped back his champagne.
“It’s Mr. Fletcher Jones to you,” Roland grumbled. But didn’t Roland sound so much better? “Thank you, Nicholas. Please excuse Mr. Forrester. He is, as you can see, very young. Perhaps it was a little unwise to allow him to imbibe.”
Roland met Georgie’s eyes, his own narrowing, at the same time as he smiled.
Not such a smart mouth now…
Georgie glared back at him, but a fizz of triumph, as delicious as the fizz of champagne, tingled in Roland’s chest as a flush rose up on Georgie’s cheeks.
