“No college for me.Learn from experience and self-study.Cam went to UT Austin for undergrad and his MBA.I’m self-taught.”
“Did you teach yourself about wine?”
“Had to.Cam usually entertains the clients, but I need to step in on occasion.Cam always dreams big and prepares to climb the next rung.He too grew up scrappy.No trust fund or inheritance for him or me.
“Jerome Prevost inherited his Les Beguines from his grandmother.The weather in Champagne sucks so many vintners purchase grapes from around the region, press, ferment, barrel, and age the juice and ultimately make the wine by blending grapes from different years and vineyards and barrels.Prevost’s winery, La Closerie, makes wine from only one grape—Pinot Meunier—from his vineyard, from one vintage at a time.Rare.Takes spectacular trust in self, time, and Mother Nature.Not many restaurants carry it.”
“I already love it.”
No smile, but his eyes did lighten momentarily, and she looked closer, trying to read him.He’d be a challenge at a high-stakes card table, and she wondered if he played and where, and if her experience dealing on the cruise ship this past season would be enough to get her a job in Vegas.Or maybe she’d have to start in Reno.
None of it appealed.But she’d have to get work soon.This long weekend was going to go by fast.
“You know Cam best.”
“Yes.”He inclined his head, then broke eye contract and took a quick drink of his water.
“Will he be angry that I came instead of Vesna?”
“Cam… he… he has a sense of adventure unlike anyone I ever met.”He was quiet for a moment, seemed to be debating something.
He opened his mouth.Closed it again and picked up the water glass, then put it down.
“Why did you come?To tell Cam Vesna’s not coming, or to take her place?”
“That’s a question,” she stalled, tempted to tell him that she’d impersonated Vesna for some of the texts—just to see how he’d react, but also because the urge to honest up nudged hard at her conscience.
“I’m not here to take anyone’s place.Vesna intended to come, but she met her soul mate in line for soup at Panera Bread this past week.”Ayana rolled her eyes.
Silence.
“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
“Ha!”She nearly snorted water out of her nose just as she spotted the sommelier walking toward them.She toasted Mr.Crow with her water.“Never,” she said.“But I do believe in embracing impulse when it suits and following my instincts.”
“To instinct.”
“And impulse.Coming to Denver just got interesting.”
*
What was hedoing here?Why was he stringing her along?
It keeps Cam still alive.
He imagined Cam slapping him between his shoulder blades, reminding him that not everything had to be planned and that she was a beautiful woman, so play it out.Easy for Cam to say because he’d never done the planning.He’d excelled at playing.Cam imagined.Telford executed.
The champagne arrived, and he indicated that the somm could pour for both of them.He was curious to see what she’d think.
But she’d flown to Denver on a whim—something he’d never do, but Cam would have.He thought back to Cam, dying in the street, gasping to give him one last direction about his legacy.
Pain lanced through Telford.Cam, who’d always been so alive, crackling with ideas and energy, was dead, and he was here, alone and trying to pick up the pieces and figure out what was next.And like a… fairy or an angel… this woman appeared almost like a magical creature emerging from his grief to be his guide, reminding him of Cam’s list of plans, though she didn’t seem on board with any of them.
She held up her glass.“Should we toast?”
“What could we possibly celebrate?”He’d never felt less like celebrating.
He nodded for the somm to leave them.
