Cherished (Steel Brothers Saga 17)

“Ava doesn’t, though. She lives above her bakery, in a place kind of like this. She lives off the money she makes herself.”

“That’s pretty cool,” I say.

“It is. She’s amazing.” He smiles slightly.

“Methinks you might have a little crush on Ms. Ava Steel.”

“Oh? No, not really. She’s way too young for me.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-four.”

I burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m only twenty-five!” Then I stop myself. Maybe Brendan doesn’t think this is a date. To him, it may be a couple of people who appreciate wine sharing a nice bottle.

“Are you?”

“If you tell me I look older, I’m walking right out that door.”

“Of course not. You look amazing. I guess I just thought, with your knowledge of wine and all…”

“That I must be ancient?”

“No.” His cheeks turn ruddy. “I’m not scoring a lot of points here, am I?”

I give him a good-natured punch in the arm. “I went straight through college to get my masters and now my doctorate.” I deliberately ignore his “scoring points” comment because scoring points with me is impossible. I’m in love with another man.

Somehow we’ve gotten off the subject of the Steels, which is what I want to be talking about.

“The Latour is probably ready now.” I reach for the bottle.

“Yeah. You do the tasting honors.”

“Happy to.” I pour myself a small portion of the dark-red liquid. “Beautiful color. Deep red with a tinge of brownish orange. Like any good aged Bordeaux.”

So far from the color of Dale’s voice, though. Syrah is much different.

“A lot of the vines in Pauillac are over a hundred years old.” I swirl the wine around in the glass, watching the wavy shapes it forms against the crystal. “They also use biodynamic farming, just like the Steels do.”

“Do they? I didn’t know that.”

I continue swirling the wine, releasing its bouquet. “Yeah. Biodynamic farming tends to make the wine a purer reflection of the terroir.”

“Interesting.”

I’m not sure Brendan finds it interesting at all. He’s a bartender, not a sommelier. Still, in his profession, he needs to know a fair amount about wine.

“It’s lovely on the nose. I’m getting black fruit, of course, and then cedar and a touch of coffee.” I pour him a tasting portion. “See if you agree.”

Brendan picks up his glass and swirls the wine expertly. Then he lowers his nose into the glass and inhales. “Hmm. Dark plum, I think. Blackberry. And yes, the cedar. I’m not getting coffee.”

“It’s subtle. Try to push the dark fruit to the side and concentrate on what’s left.”

He sniffs the wine again. “Still not getting it, but I’ll defer to the expert.”

“Not all noses work the same,” I say. “I think mine goes on overdrive sometimes because of my synesthesia.”

“No kidding? You have that?”

“I do. Don’t tell me you actually know what it is.”

He nods. “One of my aunts has it. She sees letters and numbers in colors.”

“That’s the most common kind,” I tell him. “Mine’s a little more complex. Sounds have colors and colors have sounds. Sometimes tastes have colors. My senses are really intermingled. I’m used to it for the most part, until something really jumps out at me.”

“Like what?”

Like Dale Steel’s voice. But I’m not about to share that with Brendan, who’s still a virtual stranger to me.

And I’ve successfully managed to stray off topic again.

I bring the goblet of Latour to my lips and take a sip, letting the lush liquid sit on my tongue. It’s so full and vibrant that it almost feels gelatinous against the inside of my mouth. I swallow, relishing the warmth in my throat.

“It’s wonderful,” I say after swallowing. “The tannins have softened with time, but they’re there, and they’re exquisite. But they pale in comparison to the black fruit. Currants are forefront, with some pepper and coffee on the finish.” I take another taste. “Delicious. Beautifully delicious. Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

Brendan takes a sip as well. “Yes, it’s wonderful. I doubt I appreciate it as much as you do, but I swear it goes down like mother’s milk.”

“It does.” I pour us each a full glass and raise mine. “To a lovely dinner, a wonderful wine, and good company.”

He clinks his glass to mine. “I’d hardly call burgers lovely, but I’ll take it. To many more dinners together.”

I smile. Perhaps he wants more from me. More than I can’t give, as I’m in love with someone else. But we can be friends, for sure.

And friends talk.

Something I’m counting on.

Chapter Sixteen

Dale

Silence looms between us for a while.

Maybe, just maybe, my father will level with me. Tell me why he adopted Donny and me all those years ago.

He rescued us, for sure, but why was he there on that remote island where we were held captive? He and Uncle Ryan carried us to safety, and we ended up…

My God.