getting blackberries? Plums? Black pepper?”
“There’s a spiciness on the finish,” says Syrah man.
“What’s the finish?” Blondie asks.
“It’s the last impression of the wine,” I reply. “What you taste once you’ve swallowed it.”
“Oh.” Blondie bats her eyes at Dale. “What do you think of this wine? Do you like it?”
“That’s a loaded question.” I keep myself from erupting in laughter. “He made this wine.”
“Oh!” Blondie smiles. “How wonderful. I absolutely love it.”
Yeah, right. And if Dale said it was crap, she’d agree.
I keep my mouth shut, though.
Because frankly, I’m kicking this tasting’s ass. The tasters, other than Blondie, are responding to me. They’re learning, and they’re having fun. Already I know they’ll leave here with wine.
I’m killing it.
I shoot a satisfied grin toward Dale.
Chapter Forty
Dale
Damn.
She’s good at this, and I have to follow her to do the other two wines—our top-of-the-line Cab and our Ruby, the Rhône blend, one of Uncle Ryan’s signature wines.
“Would anyone like another taste of the Cab Franc?” Ashley asks.
Several tasters hold their glasses up for a refill. Good. Ashley will continue to talk about the wine, giving me time to figure out how to top her performance. Of course, this isn’t a competition, so why do I feel the need to top her?
Voices buzz around me as Ashley asks questions and the tasters respond. I don’t hear their words, only the din of noise. The young woman with blond hair stays within three feet of me at all times, sometimes whispering and giggling with her friend, also blond, and sometimes trying to talk to me.
I’m not interested in her, and even if I were, she’s way too young for me. Of course, she’s twenty-one or older or she wouldn’t be able to come to the tasting. Ashley is only twenty-five. Also too young for me, so why can’t I get her out of my mind?
Yes, my parents are ten years apart in age, and they met when they were the exact ages that Ashley and I are now.
But I’m a mess. For the same reason that my little brother goes from woman to woman, I choose to stay out of relationships altogether. Donny is an extrovert to my introvert. Womanizing is easy for him, and as long as he’s never serious with any of them, he doesn’t have to try to make anything work for the long-term.
Womanizing is not easy for me. The few flings I’ve had were fun, no doubt, but I never felt enough for any of them to consider working hard at a relationship.
And I would have to work hard at any relationship.
My father might have been able to make it work with my mother, but he didn’t have my background to contend with. He grew up on Steel Acres his whole life. Nothing happened to break him. He lived his whole life in privilege, and he didn’t have memories that plagued him for twenty-five years.
Indeed, my father is a hero. During his time in the military, he was credited with saving six lives when his platoon was attacked by Iraqi insurgents.
I could talk to my father about my developing feelings for Ashley. He would be receptive, encouraging even.
But there are some things about my life that even my father will never understand. The only person who might hope to understand is my brother, and he has chosen to deal with his past in a different way.
The tasters still mill around, asking Ashley questions. She answers each one, and she does so in a way that makes them happy and ready to buy wine. She shows her superior knowledge without talking down to them. She’s gifted. Truly gifted.
I haven’t given her nearly enough credit. Instead, I berate her for using words like lusty and flirty, but those words speak to people who like wine but don’t have an intimate knowledge of it. In other words, customers.
She’s good. She’s really good.
Someone tugs on my shirtsleeve. It’s the blond woman.
“Did you say your name is Dale?” she asks.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Dale Steel. I’m the assistant winemaker.”
“I just want to tell you again how much I love this wine.”
“Thank you.”
“Is it true what she said? Did you really make this wine?”
“Guilty.”
“Wow. You’re amazing. By the way, my name is Katie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur.
“My friend and I are driving into Snow Creek for dinner.”
“Have a nice time.”
“Could you recommend a good place to eat?” She pauses a moment. “Better yet, why don’t you join us? You can show us the best places.”
She’s very