Read A Taste of Sauvignon for Free Online Page B

many ways. He was only going to have one beer with her, say what needed to be said, and then be on his way. Even now, his friends were waiting for him at a bar in town. Her prodding questions brought his deepest desires uncomfortably close to the surface, kindling something powerful. Or maybe it was her knees rubbing against his verga .
    â€œYou really want to know?”
    She lifted one slim shoulder. “You’ve got to have dreams. Otherwise, what’s the point?” she asked, with all the self-assurance money could buy.
    â€œEasy for you.”
    In a snap, her smile faded, eyes filled with resentment.
    â€œSorry. That wasn’t fair.”
    â€œSeriously? No one just wakes up one day, and bang, they’re a lawyer. You can’t buy a passing grade on the bar exam.”
    â€œI said I was sorry.” He was really fucking this up. She angled back toward the bar, robbing him of her attention . . . leaving him desperate to win her back. Which made no sense whatsoever.
    â€œI have this idea to start a lavender farm,” he blurted. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt stripped naked before God and the public. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard.
    Sauvignon merely sipped at her drink and thought. Judging by the non-effect his revelation had on her, he might as well have asked her to pass the Sriracha. He tilted his empty glass, wishing there were still beer in it. His mouth felt like Death Valley.
    Thankfully the bartender chose that moment to reappear. They had good help in this place.
    â€œAnother draft, Esteban?”
    The fact that the bartender knew his name got her attention. He nodded yes to the beer, then, with another cocky impulse, turned to her and asked, “You hungry?”
    She hesitated, weighing her options. “I guess I could eat a little something.”
    â€œWhat’s today’s pesce crudo , Raoul?”
    â€œWe have some abalone sashimi. First catch of the season. We’re full tonight, but you can eat here, at the bar.”
    Abalone . . . what Esteban had been waiting for all winter. He gave Raoul a thumbs-up. “Give us a double order. And give Sauvignon another glass of”—he knew little about wine—“whatever she’s drinking.”

Chapter 7
    â€œI eat here every week,” Esteban said in answer to Savvy’s blank expression.
    With a graciousness that would put some of the most sophisticated men of her acquaintance to shame, he continued without pointing out how elitist she was to be surprised that he, a mere truck farmer, was also a regular at one of the valley’s finest eateries. “It’s hard to get fresh abs without driving over to the coast or down to the city. Unless I dive for them myself.”
    â€œYou dive for abalone? I hear that’s really dangerous.” She owed him her polite consideration after her faux pas , yet her interest was real.
    He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “They lose a couple of divers every year. Riptides. Exhaustion. Guys get stuck in a crevice and panic. It happens.”
    â€œYou risk your life for a sea snail?”
    Raoul slapped down a matched set of silverware rolled in white linen. Savvy smiled gratefully at the guy next to her who offered up his chair to Esteban so he didn’t have to eat standing. A moment later, their abalone arrived on a bed of romaine, garnished with kelp, lemon slices, and a purple blossom.
    â€œI’ve never tried this,” she confessed, eyeing the dish uneasily.
    â€œDon’t feel bad. They’re almost extinct. It’s illegal to harvest them in a lot of places: South Africa, Australia, even Washington state.”
    â€œLooks like raw chicken.”
    â€œBodega gets all their abalone at Salt Point. The suckers don’t make it easy. First you’ve got to find one hidden among all the seaweed, then you gotta sneak up on it before it torques—twists itself and clings fast to the