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She snickered and gave the emerald-green leaves a toss as she put them in the bowl. “Only if you drink enough of it to forget your problems.”
“I wouldn’t waste good wine just to get drunk. That’s what liquor is for.” He crossed the kitchen and popped the pantry door open, barely looking at the bottles before sliding one from a rack in the wine cellar.
“Come on, you’re the quintessential wine guy. Surely you’ve overindulged on occasion.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not on wine.”
Sloane laughed for just a beat before she realized he wasn’t kidding. “Oh, no way. You’re serious.” She deposited the salad on the pristine white tablecloth with a residual smile.
“So you keep reminding me.” Gavin brought the bottle of wine to the breakfast bar and placed it on top of the counter. “I’m not saying I’ve never been drunk. That’s asinine. But drinking wine just togetdrunk seems wasteful to me. It blurs everything good about it.”
He cast a glance at her and continued. “And anyway, is being serious really that bad?”
“On you, it’s perfect. On me, not so much. Then again, I’ve never really been a go-with-the-crowd kind of girl.”
Gavin chuckled as he moved through the kitchen for a corkscrew and a pair of delicate pear-shaped glasses without stems. “Yeah, you do have a penchant for stirring up trouble. But it suits you, and plus, you seem happy just like you are.”
“I am.” The words sounded strange without the usual defensive coating she usually had to slather onto them, and she busied herself by leaning against the opposite side of the counter and watching while he uncorked the bottle with seamless movements. “So, I’m not quite sure I buy into the theory that wine is good for you.”
“What makes you doubt it?” Rather than coming off as a challenge, his question was edged with genuine curiosity, and he eased the cork from the bottle with a muted pop.
“It just sounds hokey. I mean, isn’t the whole drinking-is-healthy thing just an excuse to go to happy hour instead of the gym?”
He laughed, and the pure richness of it stoked a fire under her skin. “Not entirely. The theory is based on the idea that there are some health benefits to drinking wine in moderation. Some kinds of wine contain antioxidants that can help knock down cholesterol levels. Other kinds work to lower your blood pressure, making you feel less stressed.”
“Ah. And what does this kind of wine do?” she asked, pointing to the glasses of golden liquid Gavin held in either hand.
“This particular label tastes good and promotes relaxing conversation. It’s your turn to toast.” He placed the glass in her hand, and although their fingers didn’t touch as he pulled away, the heat of him was suggestive enough that Sloane felt it regardless.
And she wanted it. Badly.
“Oh,” she murmured, wishing it had been something more eloquent. She flushed. “Don’t we have to let this breathe or something?”
He shook his head, leaning across the breakfast bar so she had no choice but to look right into his liquid-brown eyes. “That’s usually with reds and drier wines. This Chablis is more full-bodied and crisp, so its flavor profile won’t benefit from breathing.”
“Translation, please?” Sloane wouldn’t know a flavor profile it if socked her in the mouth.
“It’s going to taste the same in an hour as it does right now.”
She lifted her glass, noting the pretty shimmer of the wine inside it as it met more light from overhead. “In that case, here’s to testing theories.”
“To testing theories.” Gavin raised his glass and inhaled once, chasing his breath with a sip of the wine. Sloane followed suit, and the sweet scent of the wine mixed perfectly with the crisp flavors in her mouth, one turning over the other only to layer back again, until they melded together into a wonderfully mellow glide down her throat.
“Oh, wow. It tastes like summer.” Sloane slipped her eyes closed, where inviting images of warm sunshine and dipping her toes into the cool, dark green water of Big Gap Lake rose to meet her. She took another slow sip, and suddenly she was in the lake up to her knees.
Gavin countered quietly. “This vintage gets a lot of its sweetness from the notes of apple and pear. That fruitiness is what makes it so crisp.”
Her eyes popped open in a rush of recognition, and she slapped the counter in front of her with glee. “Yes! The apple flavor makes it kind of spicy, too.”
“Now you’re catching on,” he said, a smile evening out over his face. “What does it make you think of?”
“Sticking my feet in Big Gap Lake,” she grinned. “How about you?”
He tipped his glass, taking a long sip before asking, “Me?”
But letting him off the hook was the last thing on her mind. “Yes, you. I’m not the only one who’s supposed to be relaxing here, remember? Come on, tell me what you see.”
“Okay, okay.” Gavin closed his eyes, and his eyelashes cast slight shadows over his cheeks. For a heartbeat, Sloane wondered if this was how he looked when he slept.
