Offering her a smile that did not reach his eyes, he reached for a doughnut, grabbing at random to humor her while his thoughts circled once more around the inconvenience of the storm.

However, as soon as he bit into the fried dough, perfectly prepared with exquisite filling, his mind paused.

It was delicious.

He could remember the last time he had eaten a doughnut.

It had been his last Hanukkah with his adopted parents—the parents who had raised him from early childhood, after his birth parents had left him an orphan the first time.

And of course, by chance, he had grabbed a jelly.

“Delicious,” he said, though the flavor was tinged with something bittersweet, before adding, “almost worth the change in plans.”

Once again, she snorted. “Speak for yourself. My evening had wine on the docket.”

There was humor in her voice, and he appreciated it, but there was also disappointment.

Whatever her evening plans had entailed beyond wine, she was sad to be missing it.

He couldn’t replace her loved ones—he knew from personal experience the impossibility of that enterprise—but he had a world-class wine cellar. “Do you like rosé?”

Nodding and smiling, she was nonetheless cautious as she said, “I do.”

He smiled. It felt good when he was right about Ms. Howard. “I’ve got a Sangiovese dominant, a Tempranillo dominant and a Syrah dominant. All of which would pair well with these.” He lifted the bright box.

She considered, a slight frown creasing her brow.

“Melon and floral, meaty, or olive and cherry,” he offered.

“Olive and cherry,” she responded decidedly.

“Good choice.” He gestured to the down-stuffed sofa in front of the roaring fire. “Go, sit,” he said. “I’ll bring the rest.”

An expression he could not read danced across her face before she nodded, and he found himself watching her as she turned to make her way to sit.

Reading people came as naturally to him as reading code or print.

But not with Ms. Howard.

He wondered how long it would take him to get used to the sensation.