Fast Lane

by Margot Radcliffe

  Blair slid him a glass of water to start the tasting as well as a rectangular piece of black slate piled with crusty white bread that she’d deftly sliced thin with a serrated knife. “Eat and drink that first while I get the wine ready.” After pulling out a couple of bottles from a cabinet below her, she snagged a piece of cheese from her previously abandoned plate and popped it into her mouth with a sigh. Giving him a sheepish look, she confided, “It’s better now that it’s warm anyway.”

  He grinned and munched on a piece of bread before washing it down with the cool water, just what he needed on a day in the mideighties.

  Cole took in the rest of the room while she worked. High ceilings with wooden beams and a skylight that ran the entire length of the room let the natural light shine down on the rows of clear sparkling wineglasses on display in custom-made racks. The furniture was polished leather, with big stuffed couches in corners and alcoves with modern glass tables and lived-in wingback chairs. One wall was made of smooth stone where old wine bottles and oak barrels served as the decor. It felt understated and expensive, much like Blair herself.

  “So,” she began, gently placing several differently sized glasses in front of him and one in front of herself. “Why us? Out of all the wines in the world, why did you choose Sandoval Wines today?”

  Grinning, he ate another piece of bread, realizing that he was starving. “About three years ago at the raceway, your wines were served at the after-party,” he explained. “I’ve never been much of a wine guy—I like a cold beer generally, but I had your 2014 cabernet and thought, well, hell, if this is what wine’s all about maybe I need to try more of it. So I started drinking a ton of different stuff but nothing quite measured up to that cab, so I started buying just your wines and loved ’em all. So I figured I should come see what it was all about.”

  Blair smiled and it was one of the first full ones he’d seen today and he had a fleeting thought that he’d like to see them more, be the one who put them on her face. “2014 is my favorite year for our cabernet as well. You have excellent taste!”

  He smiled then too. “Well, I don’t know about all that, I just know what I like.”

  “And that’s what wine is about really,” she allowed. “But, we all know that Sandoval wines are the best.” With a playful wink, she pushed one of the flutes of sparkling wine toward him and kept one in front of her. “We’ll start light with the sparkling. This is only our second year for it and I love it.” She took a quick sip, giving a little shrug. “Tell me what you think.”

  Cole took his own sip, letting the fizziness float over his tongue. “I like it, but I don’t know that I’m a sparkling kind of person.”

  She pushed the bread toward him again. “I’d say you’re very sparkly,” she disagreed, pointing out the cheese he should eat with the next wine.

  “I don’t know if that’s a compliment,” he told her, popping a piece of bread into his mouth, “but I’m going to take it as one.”

  “As you will,” she said as she poured sauvignon blanc into their glasses and gave him a small plate of goat cheese and pine nuts. She wasn’t skimping on the pours either, which meant he needed to slow things down if he intended on walking out of here upright. “Now, you will want to swirl this one around in your glass for a second then give it a little sniff. Nothing too intense, you just want to enhance the flavor of it before you drink it.” He watched as she swirled, sniffed and sipped, eyes riveted to how her lush lips closed over the delicate rim of the wineglass. He never would have thought a wine tasting would be downright erotic but he was being proven completely wrong.

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t spit it out?”

  Blair shrugged. “You can if you’d like. Plenty of people do, but—” she leaned in conspiratorially to whisper “—why would you want to do that when drinking it is so much more fun?”

  Then she slid another piece of cheese into her mouth, those white teeth smiling as she did it and he fought the urge to vault over the blasted bar and taste her for himself.

  But instead he swirled the wine, sniffed it, then took a sip himself, enjoying the ritual. Then he watched as she spread goat cheese on a piece of bread and he did the same, finally sitting down in one of the tall chairs instead of standing.

  “Well, we’ve established you have excellent taste in wine, but what has inspired you to want to invest in a vineyard?”

  His pointer and middle finger drew the bottom of the wineglass around in a circle as he contemplated how he would answer her question. “The truth is I’m getting sick of all the traveling I do for my job,” he said, then told the whole truth with his next words. “And what’s more, I hate racing in general now, so I thought while I was transitioning out of one career, I could get the ball rolling on a new one. Louisiana is short on wine and I thought I’m the kind of guy who might be able to make something happen.” He left out the part about his family because it would inevitably bring up his brother and just for one day, he wanted to be with someone who didn’t know that about him. To just be Cole Taggart, a man who hadn’t killed his brother and ruined his family.

  Blair pulled out another bottle of wine, setting it down in front of her as she met his eyes. “You hate racing? That seems odd for an announcer.”

  “I wasn’t always an announcer,” he informed her. “I raced professionally up until two years ago when I retired, but the more I’m around it the more I realize I’ve outgrown the life. I don’t want to party with women I barely know after a race or hang out with a bunch of guys afterward who just want to talk about how many of those women they’ve slept with.”

  “But you used to like to do that?” she said dryly.

  He shrugged. “You do what you think will make you happy until you find what actually does.” Taking another bite of his bread, followed by the wine, he closed his eyes in pleasure. It was a simple thing, wine and cheese and bread, but there was just something about being here in this vast California country that kept bringing him, unexpectedly, a little bit of peace. “I did a lot of dumb stuff when I was younger but I’m more than ready to give it all up.”

  Blair smiled. “Well, if you want to bottle wine in Louisiana, you can talk to Nate about the price of our grapes.”

  Cole returned Blair’s smile and leaned over the bar, catching a whiff of vanilla again. “Or he could loan me your expertise for a few months while I get things up and running.”

  He laughed at the look of shock on her face, eyes big and mouth hanging open.

  “I’m just trying to rile you up, Ms. Sandoval,” he admitted, although the idea wasn’t without its appeal. “I don’t see you slogging through the swamp any more than you’d see me reading a book about soil science.”

  She still looked skeptical as he swallowed the last of his glass and the first tingles of tipsiness flowed through his veins.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “IF SWAMPS DIDN’T have alligators, it probably wouldn’t be so bad,” Blair told him, cutting up the fontina cheese and prosciutto for the next wine sample. He was taking his time with drinking, though, and she found that she didn’t mind it. The tour had lasted nearly two hours already and she didn’t want to poke his eye out, which was, frankly, unusual for her. Most people on tours tended to either try to impress her with their own wine knowledge or get bored by the second grape variety.

  “Aw, they’re sweet little guys at heart,” Cole said, that already familiar ornery twinkle in his eye.

  Blair snorted. “I do know people who could help you get started on something, though, if that’s what you’re really looking for.”

  Cole shrugged. “That might be good. Can I give you my contact information and you can just send me some names?”

  Blair nodded, a few names already in her head. “Sure.” When he finished the last of the sauvignon blanc, she rinsed his glass in the small sink in the bar, wiping it out as he watched her.

 
“You know, that wine sure was better than the grape of the same name that you tried to poison me with back in the vineyard.”

  “That would have certainly taken a lot of planning,” Blair mused, somehow already used to his nonsense.

  “Yeah, but you’re a wily one,” he went on, “I can tell. And you’ve got a murderous turn of mind.”

  Blair found herself laughing again and she might have laughed more in one day than she had since her breakup scandal. It felt really lovely and was endearing him to her so quickly she’d be a little worried if he lived in Sonoma and wasn’t off traveling the world.

  “You are making outlandish claims against my character, Mr. Taggart,” Blair told him, sitting back down in the cafe chair behind the bar. “Are you saying you feel unsafe in my presence?”

  Cole met her eyes and his green ones seared into hers. “Well, I’d be lying if I wasn’t on the lookout for a firepit for you to throw me in.”

  Blair chuckled at her previous declaration. “Yeah, but don’t you think you have some sins to atone for anyway? It could be a good opportunity for you to be reborn.”

  A shadow darkened his eyes for a moment and he broke eye contact, his expression serious. “I have a whole hell of a lot to atone for, as a matter of fact,” he said, his voice suddenly low and quiet. “But burnin’ me ain’t gonna help. To tell you the truth, Ms. Sandoval, a lot of days it feels like I’m already in hell anyway.”

  After dropping that grenade, he tore off a piece of bread with his teeth to clear his palate and washed it down with water. “Didn’t see that one coming, didja?” He laughed when Blair still hadn’t responded. But then how could she? He’d gotten serious so fast when they’d previously been joking around and she hadn’t shifted gears fast enough. “I’ve been known to be a drama queen every now and again, so go ahead and pour me what’s next and we’ll get back to the flirting you don’t want to do because you’re done with men.”

  Blair’s eyebrows rose and he laughed. “Yes, I realize that you probably didn’t think threatening to throw me in a fire was flirting, but surprise, I warned you at the beginning I was a complicated type of person.”

  “I don’t know that complicated is the word I would choose,” Blair said, her tone as dry as her mouth had gone when he’d mentioned flirting. Had she truly been flirting with Cole? She certainly hadn’t meant to, but either way, it was good news. In that she was still able to, that after enough time and her complete shutdown of all things sexual, that the muscle memory still existed. It was unwelcome as well, sure, because it would be a waste at the nunnery, but still.

  As for the other, where he felt like he was in hell, she’d defer asking about that for now, taking it at face value that he was dramatic. Everyone was entitled to their own secrets and she had her own to keep.

  “You know, I kind of hate being on the other side of this bar,” he said, leaning over the top to see what she was doing. “I’d rather be back there helping you out.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he vaulted over the narrow stone surface, landing beside her on the other side.

  She stared at him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Offering my assistance,” he said, taking the knife from her hand. “I can’t help but notice that you’re going a little slowly cutting up some of this cheese, and my mother wouldn’t have it if she thought I was just letting you do all the work while I just sat and did nothing.”

  “This is my literal job,” Blair told him, wondering how to retrieve the knife without cutting herself, realizing it was impossible, and then just unearthing another one from a drawer.

  “I know your job isn’t cutting up cheese for people, Ms. Sandoval,” he said. “From the way you rattled on about pH levels and loam and whatever the hell out there at the vines, you’re a scientist, not a wine taster.”

  “Our wine educators that normally do these tastings may not have as many college degrees as I do, but they’re certified in the field of wine and have a diploma in wine and spirits training from a global academy with the most rigorous of programs. It’s not a downgrade for me to do their job.”

  “I wasn’t trying to downgrade anyone,” Cole said, slyly taking the new knife from her hand as well before she knew what he was doing. “I was just trying to say that I don’t love that your brother made you do this and I’m trying to make up for it, okay? So can you let a man cut his own cheese?”

  Blair rolled her eyes at his lame joke, but waved a hand out in defeat. “Go ahead, but if you tell Nate about this you’d better be even more vigilant in looking out for a firepit.”

  Cole laughed and started cutting up the different blocks of cheese and assorted meats himself. “I’ll keep an eye out, but now can you eat your lunch, please, so I can put a damper on my self-flagellation and guilt that you’re starving. I heard your stomach growl so loudly on the cart I thought we were being chased by Bigfoot.”

  Giving him another bland look, she took a few bites of cheese and crackers from the plate she’d made earlier. “Happy now?” she asked, her mouth overstuffed.

  “Very hot,” he confirmed. “You’ll have no trouble finding another boyfriend when you’re ready.” He cut another hunk from one of the wheels on her platter and put it on one of the crackers, nudging it to her. “In fact, probably more cheese in your mouth when you talk would be even better.”

  Blair swallowed and took a drink out of her water bottle. “This tasting has really gotten unprofessional very fast, hasn’t it?” she joked before grabbing his glass from the other side of the bar and placing it back in front of him. “This is our pinot grigio. A new grape for us in the past couple of years but I think we’ve got an interesting flavor profile, you’ll probably get some ginger in there as well as kiwi.”

  “These are the grapes that were purple even though the wine is white?”

  Blair grinned. “I bet you were a straight-A student, Mr. Taggart.”

  Cole snorted. “I’d say the opposite.” Then he took a drink of the wine, watching her as he did so, which was unnerving. A lot of things about him were unnerving. For instance, the way he got closer to her without her being aware of it. Just like in the golf cart, they were side-by-side now where she could feel the heat of his massive body again, warming the space around him like a portable heat lamp. “I just remember it since all the other white wines have white skin.”

  “Yes, and with some exceptions, most grapes actually have clear juice. It’s the skin that gives red wine its color.”

  “Now that’s what I call a fun fact,” Cole said, tipping his glass to her before taking a sip. “May I ask what your preferred wine is or is that a violation of vintner code or something?”

  “I like all wine, of course, but my favorite usually depends on the time of day or year or mood,” she told him, but saw immediately by his raised eyebrow that he wasn’t satisfied with that wishy-washy answer. “But if you’re asking me what wine I’ll drink when all things are equal, I’d have to go with the cabernet sauvignon. It’s bold, it’s big and it doesn’t make apologies for any of it.”

  That had him smiling again and she was finding it increasingly difficult to resist that peek of a dimple in his right cheek. If he didn’t clearly know how attractive he was she might be in danger, but he was obviously well accustomed to women falling all over him. And yet every time he lifted the glass to his mouth the cords of muscles in his bare arms twisted, and when he chewed, his cheeks went concave and his jaw got tight and she had serious thoughts. She’d never in her life examined how a man ate before, but she’d been watching Cole Taggart for twenty minutes now as if he were a new release at the movie theater.

  “Now that’s a woman after my own heart,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “Cabs are very popular, but that means you run across a lot of mediocre ones as well.” Since he’d taken over the cheese, she poured herself a glass of the pinot gr
igio. It was clear that this wasn’t a normal tasting and she hadn’t had much of the current year’s wines yet. “This, though,” she said after a sip of the white wine, “this is great.”

  “I’ve liked all the whites so far and I didn’t think I would,” Cole admitted, moving on to put a piece of salami into his mouth.

  “Whites are perfect on a hot summer day,” Blair said. “And actually,” she continued, crouching down into the fridge for some fruit, “it’s better with fruit even though we usually stick to the meat, cheese and bread for tastings.” She cut off a hunk of a juicy peach, then a pear and set them on his plate. “But since this particular tasting has already gone so far off the rails, what’s another detour, right?”

  He ate the peach first, a drop of juice remaining in the corner of his mouth before his tongue came out to grab it. She averted her eyes, but it was already too late because the visions of other things that tongue could do were already in her head. Then before she knew it, she was imagining his big body over hers, which was highly inadvisable. And even when she tried to conjure up mental images of the nunnery all she saw were Cole’s bare forearms rippling as he cut a hunk of Havarti.

  “I’d give a lot of money for those thoughts,” Cole cut in, his voice gravelly and a little wistful.

  Blair shook herself out of the sex trance because she wasn’t going to have sex with Cole ever. “Sorry, got lost in thought there.”

  “I’ll say.” He grinned. “I’d be willing to bet I’d like that particular detour as well.” He grabbed another slice of peach from the plate and slid it into his mouth. “You were right about the fruit too, it really does something to the wine, makes it come alive or something. I don’t know, I’m not a writer or a winemaker so I don’t know how to describe it, but I sure like it a lot.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” Blair assured him, ignoring the rest of his flirtatiousness. “Let me know when you’re ready to move on to the chardonnay.”