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Hazel took a long sip of the wine then closed her eyes. It was strange to be drinking with her professor, but if she ever went to grad school, that might be the case. Relationships changed when you were all professionals at different points in your career.
“This is good. What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a wine from Argentina. 2007 Nosotros.” Cartwright swirled the deep red liquid around in his glass. “Only $100 a bottle, but I have no regrets.”
“Only $100?” Hazel chuckled. “Okay.”
“There are wines out there that run for thousands a bottle,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, and I heard there’s taco made of Kobe beef, lobster, caviar, and actual flakes of gold that goes for $25,000, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to buy it even if I had the dosh.”
“Ugh. No, neither would I. I’ve heard of that, and it sounds terrible.” Cartwright pressed his back against the counter to face her. “I don’t mind to spend money on quality, but there does come a point when things are just ridiculous.”
“I’m glad you agree.” Hazel set her glass on the island, then pushed herself up to sit on it and dangled her legs. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Hm? Oh. I really did just want to see you. This isn’t a meeting.”
Hazel tilted her head to the side. Somehow that hadn’t penetrated when he’d said he wanted to check on her before. “Right. Well, I’m fine. Exhausted.”
She drained the last of her glass, and Cartwright picked up the bottle to give her a refill, which she gratefully accepted.
“Are you finished? Everything in?”
“For now. Have you ever had that feeling where your shoulders were so tense that you could barely breathe, but then suddenly, the weight of all that stress disappeared, and you feel like you’re floating?”
Cartwright smiled. “Yes, I know that feeling.”
“Good. I don’t think I could trust someone who walked through life without experiencing that.”
Hazel took another sip of her wine and let her eyes drift over Cartwright’s casual wear. He was gorgeous. Had she known before now that he was gorgeous? She must have. She’d noticed other girls getting flirty and silly around him. And she’d always been a little nervous—until they’d begun working together practically every day. It was like the wine had unlocked a little piece of her brain that was stubbornly holding onto the idea that she couldn’t find her professor attractive.
“Hazel?” Cartwright said a bit forcefully.
“Hm?”
“I asked when was the last time you’d eaten something?”
“Hm.” Hazel pinched her mouth to the side. “Probably… Um. Some Pop-Tarts. Before my exam.”
Cartwright dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lips slowly as he fixed her with a disapproving glare. “Are Pop-Tarts even vegan?”
“The brown sugar ones are.”
“Well, they aren’t a meal.” Cartwright set his wine down and opened up his refrigerator. “Let me make you something.”
Hazel waved her hand at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m certainly not going to be taking you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.” He glowered at the contents of his refrigerator. “I don’t know that I have anything you can eat.”
“Do you just stock your fridge with meat?”
Cartwright turned and set down a container of hummus and a plate of chopped carrots.
“That’ll work.” Hazel picked up a carrot and dipped it in the hummus.
“That’s an appetizer.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m ordering some food.”
“I gotta tell you, this job has some wicked perks,” Hazel teased. “Fancy wine, takeout, hanging out with your exes, getting to see you in your tight jeans…”
Cartwright raised a brow but did not respond. Instead, he said, “Yes, this is Ian Cartwright. I’d like to make an order, for delivery, but I need to know what dishes you make that are vegan or could be made vegan. My companion for the evening has dietary restrictions.”
Hazel laughed into her hand. He sounded so serious about it. After he’d ordered the food, he moved to take her glass of wine.
“Oh, hey! No fair. You poured me the second glass!”
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten all day,” he protested.
“Oh, nooo…” Hazel leaned back on the island. “Dr. Cartwright is gonna scold me!”
“Maybe I ought to let you keep drinking. Yet another side of Hazel I get to see. I rather like this one.” He crossed his arms. “Anyway, if you’re to spend the evening here, which you are, if you’re going to be this drunk, you ought to call me Ian.”
