Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I’m tempted, for sure. “No, thank you. But I will have whatever red wine the gentleman chooses when we get to our main course.”
“Go ahead and bring her the wine now. In fact, we will have a bottle of whatever Syrah-based Côtes du Rhône my grandmother has available.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Côtes du Rhône?” I ask after the server leaves us.
“It’s from the southern Rhône region of France, using the great varietals of Syrah and Grenache, mostly. Syrah is a bold grape, with spicy characteristics that pair well with the best Creole cuisine.”
“You know a lot about food and wine.”
“I know a lot about Creole food and the wines that complement it. I don’t know a lot about Scottish food, because frankly, Scottish food isn’t that exciting.”
“You mean haggis?”
His lips curve upward slightly. “There’s a lot more to Scottish cuisine than haggis. It’s not as spicy and vibrant as Creole cuisine, but it’s good in its own right. We get some great salmon from the coasts. And of course our shortbread is to die for.”
“One day maybe you can take me out to a Scottish meal.”
“I think I’d have to take you to Glasgow. Perhaps Edinburgh. If we go in the next month or so, we could catch the military tattoo.”
His words should send me running. I’ve known him for how long? Two days? But already I crossed state lines with him. And the thought of him taking me to Scotland?
I kind of like it.
“What’s the military tattoo?”
“It’s a big festival with Scottish military bagpipes.”
“That might be fun.”
But I feel my cheeks burn. I don’t want him to think I’m asking him to take me on another trip—this time overseas. He’s already gifted me with this trip, which feels strange, but also good.
So I stop talking and finish my shrimp.
The server comes to take our plates, and then he brings the next course.
And God, it smells amazing.
“What is this?” I ask.
“The pièce de résistance,” Ronan says. “Crawfish étouffée.”
“I’ve never tasted crawfish.”
“They’re like mini lobsters, and they’re succulent and delicious. You’re going to love this.”
I inhale the savory fragrance of onion, garlic, and seafood. “It smells wonderful. Very peppery.”
“Three different kinds of pepper. Black pepper, white pepper, and cayenne pepper.”
“So it’s going to be spicy.”
“Absolutely. But don’t take a bite until”—he eyes the server, who’s carrying a bottle of wine toward us—“we have some wine. Good man,” he says to the server.
“Would you like to taste, sir?” the server asks.
“I think the lady should taste.”
I widen my eyes. “Really, Ronan, you should taste. I don’t know anything about wine.”
“There’s no big secret to wine tasting,” Ronan says. “Wine snobs would tell you otherwise, but frankly, isn’t the most important thing that you enjoy it?”
“You mean rather than contemplate the nuances of it?” I smile.
“Exactly.”
The server shows me the wine bottle. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Then he hands me the cork.
Ronan nods. “Sniff the cork.”
I obey.
Yes, I obey.
And right now, sitting with Ronan, if he told me to get under the table and give him a blow job in this public restaurant, I’m pretty sure I’d obey that, too. The way he looks at me with those smoldering blue eyes. My panties are already melting.
The server pours a tiny amount of wine into my glass.
I’ve seen people taste wine before. I pick up the glass, swirl the liquid, notice its color.
Red. It’s the color of red wine.
I sniff it.
Smells like wine.
And then I take a taste.
And it tastes…like red wine.
But it is also quite good. It’s bold, with a touch of spice, and it makes my mouth slightly dry. That’s the tannins. I do know a little bit about wine. Just a little.
I look at the server. “It’s delicious.”
I put my glass down, and he fills it halfway. Then he fills Ronan’s.
Once the server is gone, Ronan picks up his fork. “Now, take a taste of the étouffée. Make sure you get a crawfish in this first bite. Swallow it, feel the pepper going down your throat, and then take a drink of the wine.”
I obey him, and oh boy—the sauce is peppery, but in a good way. Such a different peppery from Thai or Indian cuisine, which I eat a lot in the city.
Way different.
I take a drink of the wine, and it coats my throat so smoothly, easing the pepper while complementing it at the same time.
“Well?” Ronan asks.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“What do you mean?”
I lick my lips. “It’s almost as if… And I know this is impossible, but it’s almost like I can taste it not only on my tongue and in my mouth, but in my throat as well.” What I don’t say is how erotic the experience is. Simple eating, but Ronan has made it into a turn-on.
“That’s the pepper combo. Simple peppers, individually. But together, they create something explosive.”