Page 50 of The Sweetness of Life

“No,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“How about later this week then? I’ll invite Kyle and Michelle, too.”

If I hadn’t been watching him as closely as I was, I would have missed the flash of disappointment in his eyes at my suggestion. He drums his fingertips against the bar a few times while he ponders something, and then nods his head. “Okay, that sounds like a great idea.”

See? I knew I wasn’t crazy. He thinks there’s something between them as well. I glance over to Michelle, who’s laughing with the customers. Maybe my time here will be about more than just the article. I smile to myself.

Zach grabs the next bottle and opens it quickly and efficiently as I swallow the rest of the rosé. I would drink this one again.

“Now try this one. It’s a sparkling peach muscadine.” He sets the glass in front of me and removes both rosé glasses.

I sniff it, finding it very aromatic. My mouth is flooded with peaches and mangos as I take my first sip. “Whoa, this one is sweet.” My face scrunches, and I shake my head in reaction to the taste.

“It is. It’s more of a dessert wine. We use the juice from the two fruits—grapes and peaches—and still add a little sugar.” Yeah, it’s way too sweet for me.

“It probably makes a great sangria.” I push the glass back to him, and he moves it behind the bar. One sip is enough for me.

“It does. During tourist season over the summer, like on the Fourth of July, we make batches of sangria for the people wandering in during the afternoon hours. It adds to the whole Georgia experience.”

“Well, I happen to like sangria, so I bet I’d be a fan of that. This by itself, though—not so much. Sorry.” I grimace again at the memory of the flavor.

“Why are you apologizing? I don’t expect you to like them all. If you did, I would wonder about the finesse of your palate.” I scowl at the bottle, and he chuckles as he moves it behind the bar next to my glass.

“My palate is pretty accurate,” I remind him, leaning in a little closer. The strap on my dress slips again, he stops moving as he glances at it, and I slowly push it back in place, thoroughly enjoying the brief heated look he gives me.

“So you’ve said,” he mumbles then reaches for the next bottle, which is the lavender honey. I have high expectations for this one. Again, he goes through the steps of opening the bottle, and I watch him, ignoring the little voice in my head that appreciates the deftness of his fingers. The flash that was there seconds ago has turned into a spark, a spark that, if given the opportunity, would burst into flames.

I swallow, and he lets out a sigh before reaching for two new glasses.

“I can’t believe you have a sparkling lavender honey wine. Not gonna lie, I’ve been waiting for days to try this.” When we tasted the whites, I looked over their tasting menu, which had been lying on the bar, and spotted this sparkling. It’s taken great restraint not to dive right in. I reach for the glass, but he pulls back at the last second to tease me. My eyes narrow at him, and he grins before handing it over.

“You kill me. You know you could have opened a bottle at any time,” he says, pouring his own glass.

“I know, but to keep with the spirit of the assignment, I stuck to the plan. So, is this a sparkling mead wine?” I examine the golden color of the drink.

“No, but we have produced mead wines before. This one is a cuvée, a blend of several different varietals, and we infuse the lavender honey just before we bottle it.”

“Is it sweet?” I raise the glass to look at the golden color.

“Not when it hits the palate, but you’ll be able to taste the honey notes on the back end.”

He tips his own glass toward mine, and we clink them together.

“Cheers,” he says. “Here’s to a wildly successful outcome from the magazine article.”

“Cheers to that!” I smile brightly. Whereas I’m certain he’s looking for a surge in sales, I’m adding another bullet point to my resume that hopefully pushes me more through the door of Food Network.

A flash from the photographer comes from my right. Zach didn’t notice, too busy watching me over the rim of his glass.

Taking a sip, I’m rewarded with the perfect combination of a dry white wine and a distinct dash of honey. I really do love honey, and this sparkling wine excites me more than I can express.

“What do you think?” He’s still watching me.

“I think it’s delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” I’ve never tasted anything like you either.

He’s pleased by my response, and as if he can read my mind, a lazy sensual smile graces his perfect lips.

“I’m glad you like it. I was hoping you would. When you leave in a few days, take a case with you.”