Page 34 of Come Take Me Now

“I do,” he simply answers as he pours two glasses of wine. He weaves the glass stems through his fingers and hands me one.

“Thanks.”

I take a sip, and the red liquid courage kicks in. The warmth rushes through me like the wine is mixing with my bloodstream already. He poured us a sweet dessert wine, like the one we had with Appa and Robby—a good call on his part. I don’t have the sophisticated palate needed for the drier variations, and I think I still prefer hard liquor like tequila and vodka over wine. But I’ll drink anything this larger-than-life man gives me. No questions asked.

He sets the wine bottle on the built-in wet bar in the dining room after topping off my glass again. I hope he’s planning for me to stay over if he keeps filling my glass the way he is. We take our seats with our loaded plates in front of us. The sides of vegetables and mashed potatoes are portioned perfectly around the seared New York strip, and I notice our plates are identical. I would have thought he’d eat more than I do, but I’m sure he’ll get seconds if he needs to.

“I’m pretty sure every woman dreams of a guy like you,” I say, swirling the last sip of my wine around in the glass. My plate sits mostly empty, and I watch the small bit of wine move in my glass.

Enzo spears the last bite of his steak with his fork. “What do you mean?”

The wine hits my cheeks, making them just as red. “You know…tall, tattooed, can cook, beautiful house…skillful tongue. You’re the whole package.”

And the wine is speaking for me now.

His lips twitch into a smile. “You have no idea what kind of package I am.”

I look him dead in the eyes. “Why don’t you show me then?”

“Soon,” he says. He pushes away from the table, causing the chair to scrape against the wood floor. He stands and reaches for the nearly empty bottle of wine.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, E?” I ask while he refills my glass.

He cocks his head to look at me. “Are you a lightweight?”

“I plead the Fifth.” It’s a dumb response, but the wine is talking.

“Don’t worry, your body gives you away.” He takes his seat again. “Your chest is flushed, and you seem looser. More relaxed.”

I look down at the skin my tank top leaves exposed. “Um, I didn’t notice that. I feel fine.”

“Just fine?” he teases.

“No, I’m so sexually frustrated it’s not even funny,” I snap. He smiles again and chuckles under his breath.

Apparently, it is to him.

While he loads the dishwasher after dinner, I sit on a barstool at the kitchen island, sipping yet another glass, but then Enzo slides a full glass of water to me. “Here. Don’t want you falling over or feeling like shit tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a hangover,” I protest.

“Drink,” he instructs.

I roll my eyes, but know he’s probably right. I alternate my sips of wine with gulps of water. For once, I find myself quiet while he cleans up, but my knee still bounces. Not out of nerves, but energy bubbling beneath the surface.

“That should do it,” Enzo says, giving the dishtowel a toss onto the spotless counter. “Let’s get comfortable.” He nods towards the living room, just off the kitchen. I grab my wine glass and the newly opened bottle of wine.

The living room has skylights on the ceiling, and I bet it’s the best place to have coffee in the morning with the early sunlight pouring in. Enzo sits back on the couch, stretching his arms out on the back cushions. Standing, I top off my glass and set the now half-full bottle onto the coffee table on a Tenuta Valenti-branded coaster. Looking down at Enzo, I realize how lucky I am and take a big sip.

“That’s a great reserve,” Enzo adds.

I study the wine glass in my hand and glance back at him as I speak. “Reserve? What’s that?”

“Just a more limited run. Top shelf.”

“Oh, my gosh, I’ve had so much.”

“I couldn’t think of a better person to share it with.”