Tasting Notes Read Online Free PDF

anticipated pang was conspicuously absent. In fact, he felt almost nothing. Perhaps it was the extreme fatigue, or maybe the apathy he suppressed all those years suddenly took over, but he felt numb to the thoughts of his life up until three days earlier.
    His gaze drifted away once more, and suddenly the numbness vanished. At the table ahead of him, nestled against the window, were two men having dinner together. One was blond, his back to West as he chatted with his companion, but the other made West’s breath catch in his chest. He was big—big enough to be intimidating—and West wasn’t exactly slight. He had a beard, something West didn’t usually find attractive on a man. The men West usually went for were slick and manicured, high-powered investment bankers and executives in expensive suits with expensive haircuts. This guy was the opposite. He was rough around all the right edges, and the moment his dark eyes locked on him, West felt the tight pull of attraction.
    The man stared openly at him, not bothering to look away like most guys would, having been caught looking. There was a flash of something in his eyes, a challenge almost, that made West swallow hard. He couldn’t seem to peel his gaze away, though, and the longer he looked, the deeper the allure burrowed beneath his skin.
    He forced himself to break the eye contact, concentrating on the marks and blemishes on the smooth wooden table surface. It looked old—very old—and well loved. He wondered how long the restaurant had been around. He took an inventory of the imperfections of the table long enough to allow his heart to slow down to a normal pace. It wasn’t often a guy got his blood boiling from a heated glance alone. When he looked up once again, the man had gone back to talking to his friend.
    The waitress reappeared a few minutes later with his soup and his wine and placed them both down in front of him.
    “Anything else I can get for you?” she asked.
    Momentarily he considered asking her if she knew who the guy was, but what was the point, anyway? He was only in town another half an hour at most, and although he found the guy to be quite intriguing to look at, there was nothing beyond that. Instead he thanked her and told her he was fine.
    The soup was incredible—a better meal than he had at many of the five-star restaurants he frequented with clients. It was savory and creamy and filled his belly with warmth. By the time he made it through half the bowl, the exhaustion that had been on his heels all day finally caught up with him. He was struggling to stay upright, and his eyes were heavy. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to make it all the way to Eureka that night.
    When he was finished, the waitress returned to collect his empty bowl.
    “Is there a hotel around here you’d recommend?” he asked.
    “There’s Canyon Creek Inn over on Court Street.” She looked him up and down, her eyes discerning. “It’s decent, but if you’d like somewhere a little nicer to stay, I’d recommend the McClellan Bed-and-Breakfast on Churchill. It’s an old Victorian-style manor. You’ll want to talk to Ambrose Hennessy. She owns the place.”
    Before West could say anything, the waitress turned around and was motioning to a woman seated a few tables away. Her hair was swept into a messy bun on the top of her head, her thick bangs brushing against the edge of her black-rimmed glasses. She couldn’t have been older than thirty, and despite her casual dress in yoga pants and a men’s collared shirt, her red lipstick and heavy eyeliner were flawless.
    “Rosie!” the waitress called. The woman looked up and smiled, her white teeth in stark contrast to her dark red lipstick. She rose from her chair and glided over to West’s table.
    “This gentleman is looking for somewhere to stay tonight,” she said, motioning to West, who sat, a little dumbfounded, in his seat.
    “Sure. Most of my rooms are available, slow season and all.