Jealousy.
It’s not an emotion I’ve felt before, but I recognize it instantly. My heart thuds against my sternum, and I resist the urge to clench my hands into fists. I draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.
Jealousy is the fear of losing something or someone important to you.
Ashley isn’t mine, so how can I lose her?
God, get a grip, Dale. Act your fucking age.
The busboy comes by with bread and water, and who is on his tail but Idris carrying the bottle of Cristal. Another busboy sets a stand and chilling bucket next to the table.
“Excellent choice.” Idris shows the bottle first to me and then to Ashley. “Who will be tasting this evening?”
“The lady will be.”
Ashley’s eyes light up, and damn, she’s beautiful.
“As you wish.” Idris expertly removes the cork.
I stare at the cloud of condensation rising from the opening, as if a genie is going to appear from the bottle.
“Excellent,” Ashley says. “Dale will scoff at me, but the word that comes to my mind is exuberant.”
I widen my eyes. Staring at the mist of condensation, I missed Idris’s pour and Ashley’s sip.
“I agree with exuberant,” he says.
“Dale doesn’t like subjective terms like that,” she says. “He thinks they could mean anything.”
“I concur,” Idris says.
Ass kiss much?
“But,” he continues, “I also think subjective adjectives give a clue to a person’s first impression of a wine. In that way, they work for me.”
Yeah. I bet I know something else that will work for you. It’s at this table, but it’s not the champagne.
“Calling a fine champagne exuberant isn’t exactly a selling point,” I offer.
Ashley giggles. “In your opinion. But for you…” She tastes it once more. “It’s Bartlett pear and golden raisins, with a toastiness on the finish. Absolutely delicious.”
“Excellent assessment. It will go well with the tuna tartare you ordered.” Idris turns to me. “Do you care to taste, Mr. Steel?”
I shake my head. “I trust the lady’s judgment. Besides, I’m in the mood for something exuberant tonight.” I meet Idris’s gaze, raising one eyebrow.
Hands off. She’s mine.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ashley
I tasted Cristal in class once, but that was the only time. It’s way out of my budget. I’m surprised at Dale’s choice. Cristal is more of a nightclub champagne than a dinner drink. If I knew he wanted a sparkler, I’d have guessed Dom Pérignon.
Dale Steel never ceases to surprise me.
Idris pours a flute for each of us and then places the bottle in the ice bucket. He nods again. Okay, that’s not a bow. Dale has most likely been to every fine restaurant in Colorado and has interacted with every sommelier. They all nod like that.
What’s up with him?
I sigh. I’ll never know what’s up with him, because he won’t let me in.
I raise my glass. “To my first day on the job.”
He nods and raises his glass, clinking it against mine. “You did well today.”
I take a sip after our toast, my cheeks warming, and not from the champagne. My first instinct is to press him, make him spell out exactly what he liked about my performance, but already I know that will only make him clam up. I settle on a simple, “Thank you. I enjoyed the day.”
“You have a knack for tasting. You’ll be a good sommelier.”
Another compliment? This time my neck warms. Perhaps this evening has more possibilities than I originally thought.
Giselle arrives with our appetizer. Thin slices of tuna sashimi alternating with toast points surround a ball of tartare.
“What a lovely presentation,” I say. “What is the tartare mixed with?”
“Avocado and radish sprouts with a touch of Kewpie mayonnaise and wasabi.” She smiles.
“Kewpie mayonnaise?” I raise my eyebrows.
“It’s a Japanese mayonnaise made with all egg yolks instead of the whole egg,” she says. “American chefs love it because of the rich umami flavor.”
“Interesting.” I know all about flavor profiles through my study of wine. Umami is the savory flavor characterized by MSG. “Have you heard of it, Dale?”
“Of course,” he replies. “I told you my interest in wine began with cooking.”
“True, you did. I can’t wait to try this.”
“Can I get you anything else right now?” Giselle asks. “Are you ready to order?”
“Oh.” I warm again. “I’m afraid I haven’t even looked at the entrées. We’ve been focusing on our wine.”
“We’ll need a few more minutes with the menu,” Dale says.
“Not a problem. I’ll be back shortly.” Giselle smiles and then leaves the table.
“I’ve never had tuna tartare before,” I say to Dale. “I assume you put some of it on a toast point?”
He nods. “That’s how it’s meant to be, but I never stand on ceremony. Personally, I’ve been known to just take a forkful of the stuff. It’s delicious.”
“I suppose it’s like sushi. Which I love.”
“I suppose, except without the rice. More like sashimi. With a few things mixed in.”