Page 7 of Cru's Crush
She pulled an unmarked bottle out and poured three glasses.
“What’s this?” Cru asked when he joined us at the bar.
“Taste and see,” said Alex, who’d put the bottle away when she saw him approach.
I watched as he swirled, sniffed, and sipped, rolling the wine around in his mouth before swallowing.
He set the glass down and smiled. “Have you tasted?” he asked.
“I was too fascinated, watching you.”
His eyes blazed, sending heat straight through me. God, didn’t this man have any idea how fucking sexy he was?
My eyes opened wide and my cheeks flushed when something occurred to me. I didn’t remember ever seeing Cru with women outside of the Wicked Winemakers bachelor auction every year, which I was sure Alex—the chair of the event—had roped him into doing.
No doubt, the bidders hoped the date they purchased would turn into something more. I guess it never had.
I’d always bid on Beau, mainly because he didn’t want to have to go on a date with a stranger. The only person who’d ever offered more was his mum, saying the only way she’d get to spend time with her busy sons was through an auction date. It was so sad to think about now, knowing she wouldn’t be there this year. She’d passed away suddenly on Christmas Day.
“Daph?”
I looked up at Cru, then at the glass I’d been excessively swirling.
“What are you thinking about?” Alex asked, wriggling her eyebrows.
“Oh, um, nothing, really,” I responded before inhaling what was in the glass. I sipped, buying some time to think of an answer other than Beau’s dead mother or wondering why I’d never seen Cru with a date.
Could he be gay? I’d never gotten that vibe from him, not that it would’ve bothered me if I had. Or maybe it would’ve, at least on a personal level. I’d been so hot for the man for so long that knowing he’d never be interested in me would be like letting go of a dream.
On the other hand, I supposed I could take solace in knowing that was why he’d never made a move—or at least one more reason he hadn’t. That I’d been his best friend’s girlfriend for so long was likely the primary factor. Then again, maybe he wasn’t gay and my dating Beau didn’t keep him from asking me out. Instead, he just wasn’t interested.
“Well?” he asked after I’d taken a second sip.
“Um, it’s good. Very good, in fact.” The truth was my mind was so preoccupied with him that I hadn’t been thinking about the wine at all.
When he looked crestfallen, I swirled again, inhaled deeper, then had another taste. This time, I let the wine linger on my palate. It wasn’t just good; it was fabulous.
“Brilliant!” I exclaimed, taking another hefty pull from the glass.
His tense shoulders dropped, and he leaned his elbow on the bar. “You had me worried.”
“I apologize. I was preoccupied, and I should’ve waited to taste. It really is fantastic, Cru. It’s one of yours, isn’t it?”
He leaned closer. “Maybe sometime I’ll tell you what I named it.”
I wanted to rest my head against his and breathe in the scent of him rather than the wine. More, I wanted to touch his lips with mine. Given there was at least a thirty-three-percent chance he was gay, another thirty-three-percent chance that my having been with Beau had turned him off, and a thirty-four percent chance he simply wasn’t interested, I leaned in the opposite direction, reaching for the tapas menu.
I drank more of the wine while pretending to study the list of food. “What would you like?” I asked, handing it to him.
His eyes blazed a second time. “It isn’t on the menu.”
“Hmm,” I said, wishing Alex hadn’t walked away to help other customers. “That’s a shame.”
Cru nodded and took another sip, but his eyes never left mine.
I either needed to retreat to the ladies’ room and douse my body with cold water or change the subject.
“So, um, I guess I should’ve asked if there was someone else you’d rather take to dinner tonight.”
