Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
"Did you create this one?" I asked, watching intently as he lifted the dome, releasing a cloud of aromatic smoke that carried the scent of cherry wood and vanilla over a glass containing an amber liquid and a large round chunk of ice.
"Is that so surprising?"
"A bit," I admitted, offering a small smile. "I pictured you more as the critic than the creator."
"I never said I wasn’t a critic," he replied, and I was startled by the playfulness in his tone, by how much I enjoyed this unexpected side of him. Or I could be headed toward slightly drunk.
Dario pushed the glass toward me, his fingers lingering near mine. "Single malt whiskey, aged in cherry wood barrels, with vanilla-infused honey and a touch of black walnut bitters."
I lifted the glass carefully, unsure of how I was supposed to drink this. “I’m afraid this kind of cocktail is above my paygrade.” I smiled.
“Just inhale the scent of the smoke then take a sip.”
I did as he instructed. The complexity of flavors was unexpected. Rich whiskey with a subtle sweetness. There was a warm spice flavor as well, blending around the bitter taste of the whiskey. The smoke somehow enhanced it all and my eyes widened involuntarily, and I took another sip before I could stop myself. "This is..." I paused, searching for words adequate to describe what I was experiencing. "This is extraordinary. The smoke isn't just a gimmick. It actually transforms… something." I tilted the glass, watching how the liquid caught the fading light. "It's like… drinking a… memory?"
"A memory?" Dario had moved even closer, his curiosity evident in the intensity of his gaze and how a crease appeared between his eyebrows. Most of the time when I saw Mr. Luca, his attention seemed to be divided. There was no mistaking I had his full attention now. “How so?”
"Um,” I swallowed nervously. I’d wanted to be angry at Mr. Luca for making me come here when I told him my misgivings. But, seeing him like this made it hard to not simply enjoy the moment. Still, I knew I was a bit buzzed and continuing this interaction was probably not the best idea. “Well, yeah. Like sitting by a fire in a leather chair in some grand old library, surrounded by books that have stories to tell." I looked up at him, no longer guarding my expression. "It tastes like cozy comfort. Story time, only I’m playing the part of the grandma reading to the kids around the fire instead of being one of the children listening to the story." I shifted my gaze away, letting go of the glass. “That sounded stupid,” I muttered.
Something shifted in Dario's eyes. Maybe surprise, followed by what looked remarkably like satisfaction. Not the satisfaction of a boss receiving expected praise, but the genuine delight of an artist whose work has been truly seen and understood. “It sounded perfect, Belle. I’d have never thought to describe the taste the way you just did.”
Dario leaned closer, his gaze never leaving mine. His brows knit together like he was confused. I realized with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that we stood at the edge of something dangerous and irresistible, something that had nothing to do with whatever pretense Dario had used to get me here and everything to do with the electricity that had been building between us since the moment I walked through his door.
He moved around the bar so we stood side by side. The professional distance that had marked my arrival an hour and a half ago had evaporated, replaced by a humming awareness that seemed to charge the very air between us. Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped seeing Dario Luca as the intimidating owner of The Gray and started seeing him as simply a man. The complex, fascinating, and undeniably attractive man who seemed to be enjoying my company as much as I was enjoying his.
"You see things differently," he said quietly. "Not just the drinks, but the entire experience. It's... refreshing."
I turned my head to thank him for the compliment and found his face mere inches from mine. The movement brought our bodies even closer, my hip now pressed against his, our hands touching next to my glass on the bar. The air between us felt charged, heavy with something I wasn’t looking at too closely.
"Thank you for today," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "For inviting me. For listening to my opinions." I took a breath, shaking my head a little. “I’m sorry I was stubborn and tried not to accept your invitation.”
Dario's gaze dropped to my lips, his usual mask of control slipping to reveal something raw and hungry beneath. "Your opinions are worth listening to," he said, his voice rougher than before.
I knew I should step back, should gather my things and leave before I crossed a line I could never uncross. But the warmth of his body against mine, the intensity in his blue eyes, the lingering taste of his creation on my tongue, all of it conspired to hold me in place.