“Well, if you’re still interested in learning how to decant wine, I can certainly oblige.” Alistair smiled. “I had Junior retrieve some wine from my cellar while we were at the club.”
“Don’t suppose there’s any wine that happens to taste like spiced rum?” Noah grimaced miserably. “No, on second thought, ugh. I don’t think I’m ever gonna drink Captain again.”
“Perhaps a wise choice.” Alistair stood and took Noah’s hand to help him up. He kissed him, holding the back of his head to seek a surprisingly passionate depth.
Noah melted immediately, and he clung to Alistair’s chest, kissing him back fiercely. It didn’t feel sensual, but comforting. He wanted to be held, loved, reassured—he still couldn’t believe someone wanted to kill him, and the world of vapid parties and fast fun he’d once called home felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
“Let’s go,” Alistair urged.
He led Noah downstairs to the living room, and there was a bottle of wine and a funky-shaped bottle with two glasses waiting for them by the fireplace.
Noah actually laughed. “How the hell?”
“I do know how to text.” Alistair gestured for Noah to sit down.
“You couldn’t have ordered up some pizza or something, huh?”
“Do you want one?”
“No.” Noah got settled. “I’m good. Figured I’d have a glass or two of this and pass the fuck out.”
“Language,” Alistair warned affectionately as he opened up the bottle of wine, wagging the corkscrew at him.
“Oh, we’re back on that, huh?”
“Mmhm.” Alistair removed the cork and set the bottle down, gesturing to the funky pitcher thing. “This is a decanter. Older wines benefit from decanting because of the possibility of sediment, and new wines need aeration to achieve optimum flavor.”
“Uh-huh. All decanters look like that?”
“Usually. They can also be quite elaborate. I own one shaped like a silver pheasant that was modeled by Julius Rappoport in 1890 for Fabergé.”
“That sounds absolutely hideous.”
“You have absolutely no taste.”
“Hey, come on now.” Noah grinned. “I’m into how you taste, just saying.”
“Fair point, dear boy.” Alistair tilted the wine, pouring it into the decanter at an angle. “Truthfully, we should leave the wine uncorked for a while before pouring, but I suspect you’re not in the mood to wait.”
“You suspect right, sir.”
“Now, we always tilt the wine this way to avoid pouring any residual sediment into the decanter. You can even use cheesecloth or muslin wrapped around the neck of the bottle to serve as a screen.” Alistair held up the wine bottle. “Do you see?”
Noah peered at the bottle, trying to catch it in the light the right way. He could see a little bit of wine still inside, and then he saw what looked like dirt or grit in the bottom. “Yeah, that nasty looking stuff?”
“Yes. That’s sediment. As you’re pouring, once it reaches the shoulder of the bottle, the curve just below the neck, you stop.” Alistair picked up the decanter and filled their glasses. “You can allow the wine to settle and try again, but you will most likely never pour the entire bottle.”
“What, so, you waste it?” Noah picked up the glass, giving it a tentative sniff.
“Not at all. You can use it in cooking.”
“Cool.” Noah took a small sip and smacked his lips. “Okay, that doesn’t suck as bad as the other stuff.”
“A most stimulating review.” Alistair chuckled, raising his glass in a toast.
“Thanks.” Noah gulped a bit more and took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts.
“Did you bring your phone with you?”
