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I expertly tended to the fire while he was gone until it was burning nice and hot by his return.
His eyes rounded. “You really were a Girl Scout.”
“I was,” I said, admiring him in casual clothes.
He wasn’t exactly the sweats and T-shirt type. I’d mostly only seen him in suits. Otherwise I’d seen him in swim trunks and his birthday suit. This was a different Jordan. Careful. Cautious. He was trying not to scare me away.
I realized then that I didn’t really want that careful, cautious fear between us. I’d been hurt by what had happened, but I was to blame for that, too. What had I been expecting out of a one-night stand? I’d been stupid enough to fall too hard and too fast. He’d been smart enough not to…and I’d seen what I’d wanted to see. Everything that had happened afterward was miscommunication and hurt feelings that we let linger.
If Jordan was making an effort, then maybe it was time for me to put the past behind us. We didn’t have to be anything more than this. Someone who could be here for the other when they were in a bad place.
“Thanks for helping me today,” I said finally.
He sank into the cushions next to me. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do. You didn’t have to help, and you did. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He nodded as if seeing the olive branch for what it was. Something passing between us that settled the past. After three long years, we were finally back on even footing.
7
Annie
We lapsed into silence. Jordan looked through the bottles of red in front of us. He’d put the white in a wine cooler, which I shouldn’t have been surprised that he had. He selected a bottle and expertly uncorked it.
“You’re good at that,” I told him as he tossed me the cork. I lined it up on the fireplace.
“Lots of practice. I’ve drunk my way through Napa a few times.”
“Fancy.”
“And France.”
“Of course you have.”
I’d never been anywhere. Not really. I was fourteen before I ever even left the state, and it was for a cheerleading competition in Oklahoma City that I thought was the coolest thing ever. Sutton and I went to New York City after high school graduation, and that was my first time on an airplane. I should have been terrified, and I’d promised myself that I’d travel more…but of course, you had to have money to travel. And I’d never really had money. My family wasn’t impoverished, but my parents had other priorities—volunteering, charity, church. Our money went to those less fortunate than us, which I appreciated and understood. But I still wanted to see Europe one day…to get out of Lubbock one day. As much as I loved it—and I did really love it here—there was a whole wide world out there.
Jordan poured us each a tasting glass. He held it aloft between us. “To free wine and good company.”
I laughed and clinked my glass against his. “Cheers.”
We each took a sip of the wine. My eyes rounded to saucers.
“Whoa,” I gasped. The wine was delicious. Fragrant and light with notes of cherry and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “What is that last taste?”
Jordan picked up the bottle and read the back label. “Cherries and plums.”
“Plums!” I said with a nod. “So good. I could drink this whole bottle.”
He laughed and poured me another drink as he uncorked a second bottle. I inappropriately guzzled the wine like it was water. It was too good to waste a single drop. We moved on to the next bottle and the next and the next after that. Tasting alone likely would have gotten me tipsy, but any of the ones that I loved, Jordan would pour us both extra. Which meant that even though we hadn’t finished a single bottle, it was possible that we’d gone through three or four. The “tasting” was pretty deceptive.
“This one,” I gasped. “This is the one!”
“I don’t think we can even judge anymore,” he said, taking another sip of the wine I was insisting was the best. “I don’t even know what this tastes like.”
“Delicious. Here, let me line them up in order.”
Jordan had put stoppers in most of them, which was good because my hands were clumsy and I nearly knocked over two of them.
“Whoops,” I muttered before arranging the bottles in some order. “Wait, is this the chocolate one?”
“No, that’s this one.”
“Okay. Put that down there.”
“Annie, this is incoherent,” he said with a laugh.
“Shut it, Wright. This is the order. It is.”
His laugh continued, and he scooted in closer to examine the labels. “You didn’t even like this one!”
I tried to keep the label in focus as it doubled in front of me. “I did, too!”
“No way. You said it was sour.”
