‘No.’ I kept my tone casual as I started making two more spritzes. ‘Just a mix-up. I assume you went back to the vineyard last night? My couch was un-slept-upon. Yquem was despairing.’
He ignored the bait. ‘I can finish this up for you, if you want to go and take a breather.’
‘No need.’ Given this was the third order I’d confused in as many hours, I really should take him up on it, but 1) there was no way I was opening the door to another ‘you can’t doeverything,Sato’ lecture, and 2) the idea of stopping even for a second made me feel nauseous. If I stopped, I’d start to think, and then mixing up orders would be the least of my worries. ‘It’s under control.’
I delivered the spritzes, then made the green tea. ‘Sorry for the delay,’ I said, setting it down in front of the customer. ‘I’ve given you some extra wagashi to make up for it.’
My mind started to wander as she asked me questions about the wagashi, my mouth automatically supplying the answers. Fiona’s daughters loved the traditional sweets we served with green tea, and I’d sent her home with boxes of what I’d told her were leftovers many times. Could I use that as an excuse to turn up on her doorstep so I could apologise to her?
The customer was looking at me expectantly. ‘What was that, sorry?’
‘Do you have your sweetmaker’s card? If these taste as good as they look, I’d love to get my hands on more.’
‘Of course. I’ll just grab it for you.’
Isamu was opening a bottle of Bibliophile syrah behind the bar. ‘Go upstairs, Sato.’
‘I’m fine.’
He fixed me with a penetrating stare, the kind that was impossible to respond to without sounding petulant. ‘There’s no point staging if you’re not in the right headspace. Go upstairs, go over your supplies, and take some deep breaths.’
I gritted my teeth. Much as I was loath to give him ammunition, he wasn’t wrong. I’d get nothing useful out of the shift I was working tonight at Abode, the fine-dining restaurant my study buddy Carlton worked at, if my head wasn’t in the game.
‘The woman at Table Four wants Noriko’s card,’ I said. ‘Do you need me to give it to her?’
‘I can do it.’ Their divorce might still be an actively bleeding wound for him, but there still wasn’t a flicker on Isamu’s face at the mention of his ex-wife. He nodded his head towards the back. ‘Go.’
Much as I truly,trulyhated being ordered around by my brother, I went.
Yquem was in an affectionate mood today, leaping at me the second I walked in the door. ‘I love you too,’ I told her, as she nuzzled her golden head under my chin.
I’d nearly slipped and said that to Fiona last night. I’d found that tiny sliver of an opportunity, that window just cracked in a house that had hitherto been locked, and I’d tried to jimmy it open.Because I like you,I’d only barely managed to say when she’d asked me why I wanted to sleep with her, a pale shadow of what I really meant.
Not that me biting backI love youhad mattered. I’d clearly come on way too strong anyway. The second she’d had a chance to think about what she was letting me do to her, she’d fled as fast as her feet would carry her.
I groaned. Yquem mewed in response.
It wasn’t that Fiona hadn’t been into it. She clearly had. But just because she’d been into it didn’t mean she wasreadyfor it, and yet I’d let things escalate so fast from kissing to her riding my fingers, and—
I groaned again. The only part of that my cock had listened to was the bit about her riding my fingers.
I let myself think about it in the shower, wrapping my fist around my erection and stroking. What might have happened next, if Charlotte hadn’t knocked at the door?
Fiona would have come again, clenching tight around my fingers. I would have licked them clean. She would have turned pink, squeezed her eyes shut, but,Look at me,I would have told her, and I would have made her watch.
Or maybe I would have held out my fingers to her, made her take them into her mouth instead.See how good you taste,I would have told her, and she would have turned even pinker.
But then she would have grinned, that spark of mischief catching in her eyes. I would have let her unbutton my waistcoat – my shirt – my pants – and I would barely be able to control myself when she finally took me in her hand. She would laugh as she stroked me, that champagne laugh bubbling over at the hungry sounds I couldn’t stop myself from making, and then she’d wrap her legs around my hips, and I would slide against her for a moment before I slid into her, and…
I didn’t come as quickly as she had the night before, but I wasn’t far behind.
Yquem was still demanding affection when I came out of the bathroom, but I had to deny her, lest I get cat hair all over me. ‘I’m sorry, princess,’ I told her, doing up my tie, shrugging on the jacket of the charcoal three-piece suit I only wore to formal trade events, and attaching just one pin – my Advanced Sommelier pin, the highest qual I currently held – to the lapel. ‘I’d much rather stay here and snuggle with you.’
I selected a pair of black-framed glasses, the most conservative pair I owned, combed product through my hair, then checked my carrying case of somm supplies. The restaurant would supply most of the things I needed, like decanters and service cloths, but I liked to make sure I had my own stock of the small things, like my favourite wine knife and ah-so, as well as pens, candles and matches.
It was calming, going through my supplies and making sure everything was in order. I let out a long breath and did not let myself think about Fiona, my hand around the nape of her neck holding her upright, the sounds she’d made when my fingers were between her legs.
Later. I would think about it later, at great length, and I would agonise over all the things I had done wrong. For tonight, though, I had to put it out of my mind. If I was going to have any chance ofbecoming an MS, then surely the first thing I had to demonstrate was my capacity to be a fucking professional.
