Her eyes light up. “You mean something to drink later when life’s being annoying?”
“Exactly that.”
We wander toward the display, the warm smell of oak and fruit wrapping around us. She runs her fingers over the labels, murmuring names under her breath like she’s reading spells.
“I liked that cranberry one,” she says, stopping in front of a row with deep ruby glass. “The sweet red? It tasted like Christmas.”
“Good choice,” I say, scanning the options. “I’m getting a couple of reds—this one,Black Harvest Reserve, has that smoky finish I liked. And maybeIronwood Estate, the one with the dark cherry and pepper notes.”
She picks up another pale blush-colored with a soft gold label. “And this.Apple Blossom Rosé. It’s basically dessert in a bottle.”
“So, two for you, two for me?”
She smiles, the corner of her mouth tilting up. “You’re assuming I’m sharing.”
“Wasn’t expecting you to.”
We meet at the counter, our arms full of bottles. The clerk wraps them in paper, the kind that crinkles softly. The moment feels simple and domestic in a way that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does.
She pulls out her wallet first, but I slide my card across the counter before she can blink.
“Silas,” she says, frowning, “you paid for everything else. I can buy my own take-home wine.”
“Yeah, that’s a no. I’m paying for this.”
“That’s not how equality works,” she mutters, crossing her arms.
“It’s how chivalry works.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t fight hard. “You’re impossible.”
“Only when I like someone.”
That makes her pause. Her cheeks flush just a little before she sighs and tucks her wallet away. “Fine. But next time, I’m paying.”
I grin, signing the receipt. “You can try.”
The clerk slides our bottles into paper bags. Penelope grabs hers and nudges my arm on the way out. “You’re going to regret this when I drink both of mine before the week’s over.”
“Guess I’ll just have to come over and help you finish them.”
She gives me a look over her shoulder, half teasing, half promise. “We’ll see about that.”
The drive back to her apartment feels like one long inhale I can’t let go of.
When we park, she turns toward me. “Thanks for tonight,” she says softly. “It was… nice.”
“Nice?” I tease.
Her lips twitch. “Okay, fine. It was really good.”
“Good enough for a second date?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Her grin turns sly. “Depends how the night ends.”
