Lindsey’s Wolves(7)

“Dos vasos, por favor. Or better yet, just bring us a bottle.” He didn’t want to have to wave someone down for more wine if they found themselves enjoying the delicious flavors of Castilla y León.

“So, tell me more about your family. What made you decide to leave Spain?”

“Pretty simple, really. Our families are very close. Ever since I was a small child we took turns every other year visiting each other. One year they came to La Rioja and the next we came here. I’ve always found the dairy life intriguing. Acres of open land. Even though this is the U.S., my aunt and uncle have always lived a life similar to that in España—as laid back as you can get in this country.” He grinned. “When two of my four cousins married and moved away, they needed some extra help. It was a great opportunity for me.”

“You must be a wine snob.” She giggled when she spoke, and he loved the sound of her voice traveling across the table and tempting his libido. “You didn’t tell the waiter you knew his selections better than he does or even look at the menu.”

“Well, I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘snob’ as you say, but I do know something about wine and grapes. You can’t go wrong with a nice bottle of red from Rueda.” He grasped the hand he had released earlier and resumed his gentle grip, trying to keep it light and not scare her off. What he really wanted to do was pull her around the table, situate her straddling his lap, and kiss her senseless while reaching between their bodies to finger her to orgasm right here in the restaurant. The burning need to have her, naked and at his mercy, would not remain simmering on the surface. It kept rearing its head and making him squirm with as little notice as possible beneath the maroon tablecloth, attempting repeatedly to adjust his growing hard-on.

Down, fella.

“I haven’t been much of a wine drinker as of yet. I hear it’s an acquired taste.”

“Definitely. I’ll be honored to guide you on the journey. You’re with the right man.” That was an understatement. He was without a doubt the only man she’d ever be with for the rest of her life, and he’d most assuredly be “guiding” her on so many “journeys” in the next few weeks, her head would be swimming. Hopefully in sexual satisfaction.

How had he gotten so lucky?

He hadn’t ever quite pictured himself ending up with an American woman, but fate had a way of dropping the unexpected right in one’s lap at the most surprising moments.

Fate had done well by him in the last twenty-seven hours.

“So, where is your vineyard in Spain? Tell me about it.”

“It’s in La Rioja, in the North. Running a vineyard is a year-round experience. There is always a new step involved in the making of wine. Just when you get bored of watching grapes grow, it’s time to harvest them and start the winemaking process.” He smiled across the table at the oversimplification he’d just described in about two sentences. He wanted to know more about Lindsey. Everything about her.

“What do your parents do? You said you’re from Seattle?”

“Yes. I’m from Seattle, but my parents aren’t living.” She looked down at the table as she said the words.

“I’m so sorry, cariña.” Alex’s heart squeezed as she spoke the words. He couldn’t imagine life without his parents, his huge extended family. It saddened him to think of her, anyone really, alone in this world.

He squeezed her hands tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Could we not? It’s a long story. Some other time?”

“Of course, mi alma.” No sense spoiling the evening with sadness. He wanted to know everything about her and grieved for her loss, but her eyes were downcast. Now was not the time or place.

Alejandro had to let go of Lindsey a moment later when Raúl returned with their wine. With efficient precision, he presented the bottle and then removed the cork and poured a splash of deep red heaven for Alejandro to sample. After a long inhale with his nose inside the wide glass, he took a quick sip and declared the wine excellent.

The waiter poured them each a glass. “Can I interest you in some tapas to start off?”

“Actually, we may order so many tapas we won’t have room for a meal.” Alejandro glanced at the menu and quickly made a few selections. “Let’s start with solomillo al ajillo, tortilla española, calamari, y ensalada de papas rusas.”

Raúl memorized the order and nodded before heading for the kitchen.

“I have no idea what you ordered, but if it tastes half as good as it sounds, I’ll be in love.” Her gaze was back on his, the sorrow of a moment ago forgotten.