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Our parents showed us how to enjoy life. Show Vanna how to do that.
I grinned as memories flooded through my brain.
Maybe I hadn’t practiced enjoying life nearly enough lately, but there were some things that a guy could never truly forget.
Savannah
“Red or white?” Chase asked me after we finished dinner.
My eyes shot from the dishes I’d just finished loading into the dishwasher to Chase, who was standing near the sink weighing a bottle of wine in each hand.
My heart skittered as I saw the mischievous grin on his face.
It had been a long time since I’d seen that particular smile.
It was also the first time he’d lingered in the kitchen once we’d finished dinner.
His company was always entertaining at our evening meal, but he generally retreated to his office once we’d finished.
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “I really don’t need—”
“Red or white?” he asked insistently. “Choose or I’ll be happy to choose one for us. I know you’re not a wine hater. I’ve seen you drink a glass or two before.”
“Red?” I said uncertainly.
He nodded as he put down the white. “Good choice. I have an excellent, full-bodied Bordeaux from a small winery in France.”
I watched, completely fascinated as he expertly removed the cork, put a small amount in a glass, sniffed the contents, and then swirled the liquid around. For some reason, I held my breath as he took a sip.
He continued to smile as he pronounced, “It’s acceptable.”
I took a large, beautiful wine glass from him that he only filled about halfway to the brim.
“Are you rationing my wine?” I asked with a small laugh.
He shook his head as he picked up his own glass that was filled similarly to mine. “Not at all,” he protested. “To appreciate a wine, you have to be able to enjoy the whole experience. Swirl it, smell it, and taste it. Don’t swallow the first sip right away. This one is meant to be savored.”
I took a small sip and let it roll over my taste buds for a few seconds.
I’d never actually taken the time to recognize the very first burst of distinct flavors of a vintage, but I closed my eyes before I finally swallowed. “It’s incredible,” I informed him as I licked my lower lip.
“What did you taste?” he asked curiously.
“Black current and plums,” I shared. “It’s really…earthy.”
He chuckled. “That could be good or bad.”
I smiled at him. “It’s definitely good. I drink wine occasionally. Some I like. Some I don’t like. I’ve never really stopped to recognize specific tastes.”
“I don’t think I’ve done it for a long time, either,” Chase said thoughtfully. “It’s taken a while for me to remember that anything enjoyable is worth drawing out for as long as possible.”
He closed the dishwasher and took my hand before I could respond to his comment. “Where are we going?” I questioned suspiciously.
“It’s winter in San Diego, Vanna. There’s nothing like a good wine and a beautiful sunset,” he answered as he proceeded to pull me toward the sliding glass doors to the patio.
I felt the coolness of the evening as soon as he opened the door. “Chase, I don’t even have my shoes on.”
He took both of our wine glasses and set them on a side table on the patio between two lounge chairs. Then, he snagged me around the waist and swung me up into his arms like my weight was virtually nothing to him. “No need for shoes,” he said huskily. “I’m here for transport.”
