Page 37 of The Sweetness of Life

“I do. I prefer the cabernets, but I wouldn’t say no to this. Then again, I don’t think I would say no to any of them.”

She smiles at me and reaches for the glass. “I like it.”

Turning the bottle around, she sees the label for merlot.

“Speaking of jam.” She jumps off her chair, sets the glass down, and moves through the kitchen. “I made a strawberry fig jam to go with the biscuits. Ask and you shall receive, right?” She smiles at me, and I smile back.

“I did ask for them.”

Grabbing a basket filled with homemade biscuits, a plate with room temperature butter on it, and a jar of the jam, she sets it on the island in front of me. She sits back on her stool facing me, and this time, one of her legs slides between mine so she can prop a foot on my footrest. Tingles race straight to my groin, and just like at the restaurant, she fixes mine for me and passes it over on a small plate.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” I say, shoving half of one side into my mouth.

“Do what?” She sits back but doesn’t move her leg.

“Fix my food.”

Her face turns beet red. “Sorry. Honestly, I didn’t even think about it. Meg and I both have our quirky routines, and fixing snacks is mine.”

I laugh and shake my head a bit. “It’s fine. I’m not complaining, just mentioning that you don’t have to. What’re Meg’s quirks?”

“Oh, she has quite a few, but her biggest one is cleanliness. While I’m fixing, she’s cleaning around me.”

“Someone else doing the cleaning—sign me up.” I’m smiling as I pick up the biscuit and take another bite. Damn, this girl can cook. I remember arguing with Kyle about how I assumed all chefs were overweight, when in reality, it’s probably the spouses and family members that suffer. I’m not sure if I could ever let any of her food go to waste.

Finishing the biscuit, I stare at my plate, wishing there was more.

“Tasty, huh,” she mumbles through her bites.

“Very.”

“Just like this wine.” She holds up the glass and takes another swallow.

“Right. So, merlot grapes are small and dark blue on the vine. They’re easy to spot, easy to grow, and have thin skins so they ripen fast. The juice is lighter, smoother, softer, and it’s considered a drink-it-now wine. Aging doesn’t do much for it.”

“Merlot is my go-to wine when we’re out for dinner.”

“It is for most. It’s the number one ordered glass of wine in the United States because it’s an easy pick, but if you ask any winemaker about it, they’ll tell you the merlot is one of the least profitable in the tasting room.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t have thought that,” she mumbles with her mouth full.

“It’s viewed as boring.”

She swallows and gulps down some water before responding. “I don’t think it’s boring.”

“I don’t either, but when people come here, they feel adventurous and usually pick something new and different.”

“That’s interesting.” She pushes her plate back, and I swipe the bite she didn’t eat. See—I have to eat it.

“All right, are you ready for the last one?”

She sits up higher on her stool and wiggles as if she’s having fun, which I hope is the case.

“Bring it on.” She licks her lips, making them shine, and my stomach clenches as I push the glass her way.

“This is our flagship wine. It’s our biggest seller and the one most people come here to taste.”

She goes through the motions, and I can’t wait. “What do you think?”