“That’s black currant,” Ashley says. “Excellent! Ready to taste?”
“Sure.” I swirl it again and take a drink.
“Let it sit on your tongue for a few seconds,” Ashley says, “and think about how it feels in your mouth.”
I can’t talk because my mouth is full, but for God’s sake, it feels like liquid in my mouth.
“Now swallow,” she says.
I obey.
“So?”
“Well…it’s good.” I’m not lying. It does taste nice. Better than any other wine I’ve drunk.
“Anything else? How did it feel against your tongue?”
“Kind of…silky? I guess?”
“Good. Very apt for a lighter red. Flavors?”
“It was tasty. To me, it tastes like wine.” I take another sip and try harder. I swallow. “I guess I can taste the blueberries.”
“Good. We’re obviously not looking for exact flavor panels. You’re never going to take a sip of wine and say, ‘that tastes exactly like blueberries.’ It’s more of a nuance. A reminder. Kind of like the smell of honeysuckle on the breeze. Think of it that way. Just a waft of honeysuckle trailing along with the wind. It’s not like you’ve got your nose in the honeysuckle flower. It’s just a remembrance.”
Dale smiles. “That’s a brilliant way to put it, baby.”
“Well, I am almost a doctor of wine.” Ashley smirks.
I take another sip. “You know, I may just begin to appreciate wine.”
“Great!” Dale says. “You can teach my little brother here. Maybe you can give up the froufrou drinks, Don.”
“Hey, I love Mom’s margaritas. In fact, I wish I had one now.”
“Oh, no,” Ashley says. “You promised you’d try the wine tonight. I’m going to take you through the same exercise Callie just did.”
I smile.
Yeah, there’s a lot on my mind, but it’s hard not to smile when I’m with Donny. And Dale and Ashley are so together. So in love.
It’s nice to smile.
Chapter Twenty-One
Donny
Honestly? I taste alcohol and a touch of grape when Ashley takes me through the tasting.
“I’m a lost cause,” I tell her.
“Nah, you’re not. You’re a challenge.”
“My brother’s always been a challenge.” Dale laughs.
“Said the pot to the kettle.” I grin.
My brother is laughing. Smiling. Even with all that’s going down. That’s what Ashley has done for him, and I love her for it.
I’ve always been the one who’s able to stay jovial even in the darker times. I need to remember that now.
Part of me wishes I could go back in time and not make the deal with Lambert. I can call it off. I’ll still owe him a big favor, and I can live with that.
Just like that, I feel better. Lighter. Happier.
How did I ever think I could breach my ethics like this and be okay with it?
Yeah, I’m calling it off. I’ll tell Dale later.
For now, I want to enjoy the evening.
Except…
We brought Ashley and Callie over here to tell them what’s going on. To get their help.
Oh, hell…sure, their help, but ultimately to get their blessing. What if they don’t give it?
“Ready, Donny?” Ashley asks.
I jerk at the sound of my name. “For what?”
“To do the tasting exercise like Callie did.”
I exhale. “No. I’m not.”
She lifts her brows.
“I mean… Dale? Bro? I can’t do this.” I shake my head. “I just can’t.”
“Taste the wine?” Dale asks.
“No. For God’s sake. I can’t do what we’re doing.”
“What’s going on?” Callie asks.
“Dale and I need to tell the two of you something. And Dale, I want to call it off.”
“You’re not thinking straight,” Dale says.
“No, I’m thinking straight for the first time in a few days. This has to stop. We’re not about this.”
“Excuse me,” Ashley says, “but exactly what are you two talking about?”
I glance at Callie. She doesn’t echo Ashley’s question, but she’s thinking the same thing. I see it in her inquisitive eyes.
“It’s a long story,” I say, “and you both already know part of it. About the stuff Murphy found under his floorboards.”
“Okay,” Ashley says. “What else is there? I know you’re looking into it.”
“Yeah. We are. But…”
“Don, I don’t think this is—”
“Damn it! I hate shouting at you, and I hate disagreeing with you. But I can’t do it, Dale. I can’t.”
“It’s already in motion.”
“What is in motion?” Ashley demands.
Callie is still quiet for a moment, until, “This seems like a family thing. I should go.”
“No. Stay, Callie. I want you here. In fact…” I rake my fingers through my hair and then pick up the glass of wine and take a long drink. Then another, draining it. Tastes the same way it always does. Like wine.
“Please, Callie,” Dale says. “Stay.”
I place the now-empty goblet back on the kitchen table. “Callie, you may not want me after I tell you what I’ve done.”
“Donny, I—”
“No, don’t. Just let me say this.”
“No,” she says adamantly. “And don’t interrupt me again. This is important.”
“Not as important as what I have to say.”
“How do you know that?” She whips her hands to her hips. “You don’t know what I’m going to tell you.”