Page 54 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Yeah, I might not know how this night is going to end. But I can’t deny myself the pleasure of enjoying the excitement shivering in my belly at getting to spend the few hours close to Shira.

I’m going to make every second count.

Navigating Merlot’s beautiful downtown, Shira pulls her car into a spot and cuts the engine. In one smooth movement, I’m out of the car, round the other side of it, and pulling open her door.

“So chivalrous,” she says, accepting my proffered hand as she steps from the car. Her cheeks flush so damn prettily. I ache to lay a kiss right on that soft skin.

But I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. So instead, I give her my elbow. She winds her arm through it, and we saunter down the picturesque avenue.

I steer her toward The Wine Cellar, Merlot’s fanciest dining establishment. “This place has the best food in town,” I say, inclining my chin toward the front of the establishment. “Have you been here before?”

Her face darkens. “For my meeting with the investors.”

Shit. I’d wanted to wow Shira, but she’s already been here. I mentally kick myself for not asking her earlier.

“But other than that, not really. I don’t get out much.” She speaks like it’s a confession. I take it as a sign that she’s more motivated by her work and hobbies than she is with the social scene, such as it is in this small town. I can’t blame her for that.

“Well, it’ll be special for me because you’re here,” I say with a wink, opening the door for her and following her inside.

I give my name to the host, and he immediately leads us back to an immaculate table set with fresh flowers and taper candles.

“Red, white, or blush?” a waitress materializes to ask as we settle into our seats. This is Sonoma. It’s not a question of if you’ll have wine, but which one.

Shira’s gaze meets mine. I smile and nod. She takes my lead.

“Red, please,” she tells the host, “and dark.”

She nods and disappears.

I aim a single lifted eyebrow at Shira. “Dark, huh?”

She shrugs. “I find their flavor more robust.” Damn, she’s blushing again. I wonder if she really feels that every bit of her preferences and characteristics needs to come with an apology.

When I first met her, I was overcome with a strong desire to protect her. Now I’m filled with a desire that’s just as fierce to teach her that she is worth loving, appreciating, and celebrating as is.

“A woman after my own heart.” I smile as the server returns, showing us the bottle for approval, then pouring the crimson liquid into two waiting glasses.

Seizing my glass, I lift it. Shira mirrors my movement.

“To adventures with fake boyfriends,” she says, eyes dancing in the candlelight.

My smile grows. “To you, Shira Meade, for bringing us together.”

She opens her mouth, protest written on her forehead, but before she can speak I clink my glass against hers.

Shira freezes, but only for a moment. Then she melts and clinks our glasses again and gifts me with the first authentic smile since we met.

It’s exquisite.

Right then and there, I vow that I’ll do whatever it takes to make her smile like that as often as humanly possible.

Shira

I’m probably messing this whole thing up.

First with the driving thing, then with how Laurent clearly wanted this to be my first time at The Wine Cellar and I, albeit accidentally, foiled his plan. And don’t get me started on the current of awkwardness running through everything I do and say.

But then again, we’ve finished our meal and are halfway through a second bottle of wine and Laurent is still here. Still smiling at me and laughing at my weird jokes.

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