Page 37 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

She lifted her eyebrows. “None?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like the taste.”

“What a waste.” She ran her fingers over some of the bottles and watched the traces she made in the thick dust. “This section in particular should be drunk now, Seb. If you aren’t going to drink it, you should sell it. It would be a shame to see it ruined.”

“Probably.”

But he wouldn’t. The past still held him too tightly in its grip, that much was obvious.

“Oh, look,” she said, ignoring the ache that took up inside her at the thought of that, and instead bending

down and dusting off a label. “Here’s a Faith.”

“Here’s a what?”

“A Faith. Or technically a Riesling.” This one a 1990 from Germany. “Beautiful, graceful, yet under-appreciated, underrated and very much undervalued.” Moving down the racks in search of a Dawn, she dusted off another bottle. “And here’s a Dawn,” she said. “A Barossa shiraz. Australian. Bold, clever, challenging.”

“Do you have wines for all your friends?”

“Of course. Although Zelda’s not actually a wine. She’s absinthe.”

“Guaranteed to drive you mad?”

Mercy smiled. “Highly spirited.”

“What am I?”

She stilled. Straightened. Thought she should probably tell him he wasn’t a friend, especially not with tonight’s moodiness, but that wasn’t strictly true now and she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “An Islay whisky, I should think,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t really given the matter much thought.

“Scottish?”

“Smooth, delicious, layered, complex, difficult.”

His eyes darkened as he approached her. “And what are you?”

“Me?” she said, blinking at him in surprise since strangely she’d never given any thought to what she might be. “Oh, I’m nothing.”

“You are far from nothing, Mercedes,” he said, his expression losing some of its harshness as his gaze roamed over her. “Are you done down here? Because I’m thinking bed would be good place to explore next. Mine’s been getting cold.”

Yes, yes, there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, though, she was more interested in what else he had stashed away down here, which said a lot for the degree of her curiosity. “What’s through there?” she asked, keeping her eyes away from the broad, muscled chest that nevertheless could easily distract her.

Seb frowned. “Through where?”

“That door.”

“Which door?”

“That one.” Honestly.

Seb shoved his hand through his hair and sighed, and it sounded like resignation, weariness and a whole lot more besides.

“The garage.”

“Full of cars you don’t drive, I imagine,” said Mercy with a dry smile that she expected him to return. When he didn’t, when he carried on just frowning down at the floor, her smile faded as it dawned on her that that might actually be the case.

---