“Thank you. It’s good to see you too.” He stepped through the doorway and held up two bottles of wine, one red and one white. “You didn’t tell me what we were having, so I covered my bases.”
Katie studied the labels and recognized he had selected quality, well-aged wines. “Wow, you don’t screw around, do you? I’m honored you would open such good hooch on my account.” She also recognized how his hands wrapped completely around the bottle, and an inappropriate thought about hand size and what it indicated scurried through her mind before being chased away by the rules of propriety.
Carson shrugged. “When I was stationed in Virginia, I worked with a major who had a massive wine collection in his house. We spent a lot of time with him and his wife, and they loved to sit on their deck and enjoy the wine and the summer evenings. I learned a lot, and I still have a few bottles left over from trips to the liquor store with him.”
“Sounds nice. Who’s ‘we’?”
“Huh?”
“You said, ‘we spent a lot of time with him and his wife,’” Katie recited. “Who made you a ‘we’?”
“Oh.” Carson’s bright expression faded for a brief second, but he made a quick recovery. “My girlfriend at the time.”
Another white lie. Is she the reason for his issues? “Gotcha. Well, we’re having chicken tonight, so I think that calls for the Chardonnay.” She took both bottles from him and, when Carson turned to shut the door, she confirmed the jeans did as much for his ass as they did for his front. She wanted to bite it.
Katie led him to the kitchen, where the aroma of grilled vegetables, garlic, and a mashup of spices wafted through the air. Carson sat at the kitchen table while she put the white wine in the refrigerator and stashed the red on the counter. “That smells really good. What is it?”
“It’s Chicken-a-la-Katie. It’s a recipe of my own I came up with a few years ago through experimentation, and it’s my go-to meal.”
“Chicken-a-la-Katie?” Carson scoffed. “Does that mean you leave the head and mouth on so it can give you a hard time while you eat it?”
“Really?” Katie said, pursing her lips. “Actually, it’s more like a flying chicken, ‘cause I’m about to throw it at you.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll call for a pizza.”
“Don’t you dare. Can I offer you a drink?”
“I don’t know,” Carson answered. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Not yet,” she told him. “That’s for later.”
“OK. Do you have Scotch?”
“Hmmm, I think I might be able to dig something up,” Katie said as she opened a cabinet next to the refrigerator. “Dewar’s, Glenlivet 12, Talisker 18, Glenmorangie Sherry Cask, and Lagavulin 12.”
“Shit. Really?” Carson jumped from his seat to confirm that the veritable smorgasbord of Scotland’s most famous export truly existed in this very kitchen. He stared for a moment, touching the bottles as if to confirm they weren’t holograms, before grasping the Talisker like it was the Holy Grail. “I think I’m in love.”
“My goodness, Carson,” Katie replied. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little quickly? I mean, you’re cute and I like you, but I just think it’s too early for that kind of commitment.”
Carson tore his gaze away from the bottle long enough to give her a look suggesting she was insane, albeit with a hint of a smile. “Not you, ya daft lassie!” he yelled in his best Scottish brogue. “’Tis your collection o’ the creature!” He took the nearly-full bottle back to his seat and, knowing Katie was watching him, ran his hand sensually over the neck of the bottle. “Where have you been all my life, baby?” he murmured.
Katie laughed. “Should I leave you two alone for a few minutes?”
Carson jumped right back into his brogue. “Nay! Git me twa glasses wi' ice, and make it snappy!” Katie scurried to obey his command, grabbing two rock glasses and dropping two cubes in each before setting them down in front of Carson. He promptly removed one of the cubes from his glass and tossed it in the sink before pouring two generous fingers in each. “I’m assuming,” he said, this time in proper English as he handed her one of the drinks, “you don’t have those bottles just for show.”
“Not a chance. I love my Scotch.”
“Well, I’ll drink to that!” They clinked glasses and each took a healthy sip of the copper liquor, rolling it about in their mouths before swallowing and expelling their breaths. They discussed the merits of their drinks as Katie monitored dinner, with each discussing other labels they had sampled in the past. Katie noted how passionate he became over a topic he clearly enjoyed. This was the man she wanted to get to know.
Dinner was a bit less animated. Carson complimented her on the chicken, and sounded sincere enough she believed him. Having had one drink already, they went light on the wine, and by the time they were finishing the last morsels of poultry and long-grain wild rice, about half of the bottle remained.
“So, are you ready to go?” Carson asked as he set his fork down on his empty plate and, gathering more dishes from the table, walked them over to the kitchen sink.
Katie rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing this time?”
“I guess I can divulge our destination,” he replied. “First of all, for your peace of mind, there is absolutely no need to be on any kind of a boat.”
She smiled and shook her head. “If that’s what you had planned, I’d have poisoned the chicken.”
“However, you will be
