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The waiter nodded and left with the bottle open on their table, waiting.
“Okay, so I have an admission,” Jessica said.
“Oh?”
“I can’t tell the difference between a five-dollar bottle of wine and a rare thousand-dollar vintage. Not gonna lie.”
Brent grinned. “It’s about the complexity. Some wines, you just drink. The point is to drink. Others, they have layers of flavor and depending on where the grapes were grown, among other factors, you’ll taste that. So, when we get our entrées, we’ll take a bite, savor it, and then take a sip of the wine. You’ll see how it changes.”
“I thought I was being taken out to dinner, not going to a class.”
“You asked. And we’ve both learned things about drinking tonight. For example, I never knew people drank oysters.”
“Just knock ‘em back.” Jessica mimed the motion.
“Good Lord.”
“Now, you tell me.” Jessica leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands. “You know I do a bit of shots and have some fun. What were you like before you had Cara? My roommate says there’s a lot of dirt about you out there.”
“And you haven’t looked at it?”
“I don’t like to Google people. It’s a weird thing my generation does.”
“Fair.” Brent folded his hands. “I definitely had my fun before I married LeeAnne.”
“Shots? Or was it all fancy wine sipping?”
“Oh, there were shots. And wine. And bourbon. I do like a good whiskey,” Brent admitted. “Much more than I like vodka or tequila, to be honest. In fact, I don’t really drink tequila anymore at all.”
“Really. Is there a story that goes with that rule?” Jessica waggled her brows.
“Of course.”
“Great. You tell me your tequila story, and I’ll tell you my rum story.”
Brent chuckled. And so it went. They shared their tales of drunken debauchery, and in Jessica’s case, crying out on her friend’s porch in the snow. They talked about what Brent had studied in college, mostly business but with a good number of electives in film and art. Jessica admitted that all she knew about painting came from YouTube.
“I never would have thought to look there for instructions,” Brent said.
Jessica stabbed her salad. “My generation does it all the time. Even when it comes to new software and things. Can you use this program? Always say yes. Go home, look it up, and figure it out. It’s like we’re cheating, but you have to. Jobs are scarce.”
“It’s not cheating. That’s clever. As an employer, I always want someone who knows how to figure out something on their own.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Brent reached over and patted Jessica’s hand. “Don’t listen to what people say about ‘your generation’. I know the market. I know more than one. It always comes down to who is willing to work the hardest. I’ve never noticed bad employees to be something that came from a specific generation. It usually has to do with rich kids who expect everything to be given to them.” He chuckled. “I was a terrible employee at my first job.”
“Tell me about that.”
So far, Jessica had been attracted to Brent. He smelled amazing. He was handsome. He was tall and strong. Letting him kiss her always had to do with that magnetic draw to him in a physical way. Now, listening to him, her nerves seemed to come alive, and it wasn’t just because of the wine. It seemed as though she discovered the different flavors, she discovered a man whose talent and intelligence was best brought out by his warmth and kindness.
He was far more complex than she had allowed him to be in her perspective. By the time their forks hit the dessert, a hot chocolate Godiva cake, Jessica couldn’t take her eyes off him. His voice warmed her even as the ocean breeze lifted her hair and cooled her.
At the end of dinner, they’d gone through two bottles of wine, along with several glasses à la carte that Brent had ordered so she could taste the difference between wines. Dessert had been accompanied by a “nice aged port”. Consequently, when Jessica rose to leave the table, she felt the full weight of all that wine and good food and stumbled.
Brent caught her arm and held her securely until she waved him off. Then, he put his hand on her back protectively as they returned to the car, where he opened the door for her and let her set the distance between them.
Her cheeks burning and heart racing, she waited until the driver had gotten on the road and then slid a little closer to him.
“Do you do this often?” Jessica looked up at Brent with a bashful smile.
