Chapter 5
Dax felt like a part of him which had been dead had sprung to life during his conversation with Ivy. He couldn’t say why. Yes, she was a very attractive woman, but he’d always been drawn to larger-than-life females, ones with big personalities.
That was not Ivy Hart.
She was a bit reserved, but she had opened up to him, especially when she began talking about her family’s vineyards. He figured she did well one-on-one with others and would make strong connections with those who came in to do wine tastings at the winery. He was looking forward to sharing time with her today, as well as learning something about wine. Dax had always had a deep curiosity about everything around him, probably because books had opened the world to him. Now that he lived in Texas wine country, he might as well begin to familiarize himself with what the region had to offer. Lost Creek Vineyards had a stellar reputation in the area, and he turned to the Internet to learn more about the brand.
His search informed him of the many awards the winery had won in national and international competitions, beating out wines from important regions such as Bordeaux and the Napa Valley. He turned to the Lost Creek Vineyards website, reading the story of how Bill Hart and Jerry Hiller had started the winery, nursing the first vines during the early years before creating the Lost Creek Vineyards label. Hiller had been killed in a car wreck not long after that, and Cecily Hart, Bill’s wife, had stepped in to manage the business side, while her husband developed the wines and did all the sales and marketing.
Dax clicked through the website’s tab of employees, reading about Ivy and others who worked there. He studied her picture, wondering what it was that appealed to him about her. Maybe it was because she was low-key and unassuming. Shailene’s personality had been big and bold. She took over any room she entered. Ivy would never do that, yet Dax believed people would be drawn to her as much as they would a colorful personality such as Shailene.
He mentally smacked himself for even thinking about his ex-wife and also told himself he wasn’t interested in forming any kind of relationship with a woman, now or in the future. Ivy Hart, though in her late twenties, seemed the kind of woman who would want to settle down.
That was the last thing Dax wanted.
His focus was on making Java Junction profitable, as well as writing music. He was almost at a point where he was ready to perform on a weekend night, playing his guitar and singing his own compositions. On top of that, he was itching to pull together a band. He’d never been in one, but a part of him was eager to perform not just on his own, but with others. How he’d go about it was another thing on his agenda, so getting hung up on Ivy was something he needed to shove aside.
Still, he would keep the date at the tasting room with her today. No, not a date. He never should have referred to it as that. Surely, she knew what he’d meant.
He went downstairs to Java Junction at four in the afternoon as he usually did. Sean Shackleford was already there.
“Hey, Sean,” he said, putting on an apron. “Busy yet?”
“Not yet,” the barista told him.
“Do you think you could handle things for a couple of hours on your own?”
“If I could handle a large group of hormonal teenagers, I think I can manage a few coffee orders,” Sean said drily.
Dax laughed. “I don’t doubt you could. I’m going to head over to Lost Creek Winery and sample a few wines in a bit.”
The barista smiled. “Ivy convinced you? That girl can do anything. She may appear on the quiet side, but she’s got a core of steely determination. She was my top salesperson in band candy sales her four years in high school. And she was my drum major her junior and senior year. When Ivy stepped up, the kids knew to cut the chatter and focus.”
“Really? I guess she didn’t seem to be a leader to me yesterday.”
Sean gave him a knowing glance. “You’ve got your bold, brassy leaders—and then there are the Ivy Harts of the world. They lead by example and intention. Ivy’s solid gold.”
He’d never heard Sean praise someone so much. “You said you still have a painting that she did for you?”
“Yes, she painted it as a thank you gift for our years together. Frankly, Ivy taught me more than I taught her. I was the one always thanking her for things. She’s got talent. I just hope now she’s home, she’ll begin to use it again. I really think she could go places.”
Dax was curious and wanted to see her work now. And he already knew he wanted to see more of her, despite what he’d told himself. Maybe they could be friends.
Even better, friends with benefits.
He greeted a customer, whipping up a long macchiato for her, and then circulated around the coffeehouse, checking on the handful of customers present, chatting with them just enough to let them know they were welcome without invading their privacy, a fine line he’d learned to dance along.
When it was a quarter till five, he removed his apron and bid Sean goodbye, going to his truck and driving the ten minutes out to Lost Creek Winery. Dax hoped by showing up around five—with only an hour to go before closing on a weekday—he might find Ivy without any other tasters in sight.
He was right.
She was at a long bar, polishing a glass when he entered. Glancing up, she gave him a warm smile.
“You made it.”
Dax approached her. “Yeah. Left things in Sean’s hands.”
“Mr. Shackleford is the most capable guy I know. You’re lucky to have him working for you.” She set down the glass and folded the rag, placing it out of sight. “Ready for your tasting?”
“As ready as a neophyte gets. What do you recommend we do?”
“Normally, I’d have a rookie new to wines stick to the whites menu. I think you could handle tasting a few bold reds, though.”
He shrugged. “What do you suggest?”
She handed him a laminated card. “This mixed flight is the tasting I’d recommend. Read through it and see what you think.”
Glancing at it, he saw the tasting would include three white wines and three red ones. Looking up, he nodded. “Sounds good. It’ll give me a chance to try both red and white and see which I prefer.”
She took the card he gave her and said, “The first thing you need to know is that a wine tasting isn’t just about flavor. While taste is a sense that obviously dominates in wine drinking, it’s important to use other senses to enjoy the full experience.”
Dax knew with certainty that all his senses were on high alert being around Ivy.
“Let’s talk about glasses first, though,” she said easily, her voice drawing him in.
She pulled several different wineglasses from various shelves and placed them on the bar in front of him.
“Most people don’t really care what type of glass they pour their wine into, but I want to teach you the reasoning behind the different shapes.”
He grinned. “So I, too, can become a wine snob?”
Ivy frowned. “No. So you’ll understand better.”
Feeling like a chastised schoolboy, he decided to keep future smart remarks to himself.
“Stemless glasses have become the rage in recent years. I understand their aesthetic appeal, but you need to know glasses with a stem help your wine stay at its optimum serving temperature.”
She indicated the wineglasses to his left. “Most white wines possess beautiful notes which are fruity and floral. Those aromas are best captured in a Riesling glass such as this. The stem has a small, tapered bowl and allows the wine’s aroma to be directed to your nose, while keeping it chilled at the same time. You never want to drink a white which hasn’t been chilled,” she cautioned.
He lifted the glass by the stem and studied it. “This is for all whites?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“A Riesling glass is pretty much your go-to wineglass for whites and even rosés.” She picked up another wineglass. “When drinking a full-bodied white or a rich, buttery Chardonnay, though, you need to use a glass with a wider bowl.”
She handed the second glass to him. “Compare the difference.”
Dax did, nodded thoughtfully to himself.
“The wider bowl also helps aerate a wine, making it perfect for capturing the more delicate aromas.”
He laughed. “You’re starting to complicate things, Ivy.”
She smiled in return, a smile that made his heart turn over. “I’m sorry. I usually know my audience better. I only go into a lot of detail if I sense that a client wants it.”
His gaze met hers. “I actually do like what you’re telling me. I’m one of those people who believes in life-long learning. Keep explaining, Professor. I’m all ears.”
“Then let’s talk reds. Here’s a Cabernet glass.” She held it up for his inspection. “I would drink a Cabernet Sauvignon, a Malbec, or a Syrah or Merlot from this. This glass is ideal for a medium to full-bodied red wine.” Ivy ran her finger along it. “See how it tapers slightly. That gives you the maximum effect as you smell your red wine.”
Reaching for a different one, she raised it so both glasses were side-by-side. “This would be for a Pinot Noir or burgundy. See how it has a wider bowl?”
“Yes. To capture the subtle aromas better that those wines give off.”
Her smile widened. “You really are a quick student, Dax. But let’s get down to the tasting, shall we?”
“I am a bit parched, Professor,” he teased, seeing a dimple appear in her cheek as she smiled.
“Okay, I’ve got to go back into teaching mode to do this tasting justice. But you’ll appreciate what I share with you,” she promised.
What he wanted to share with her was a kiss.
“No wine tasting can be understood—and appreciated—without the Five S’s. Want to guess what any of those are?”
Dax thought moment. “Sip has to be one. Maybe savor?”
“You’re definitely on the right track,” she praised. “The first S is see. Really look at your wine with a critical eye.”
She took a moment to pour a white wine into a glass and handed it to him.
“Is it clear or opaque? Is the hue light or dark—or somewhere in the middle? Do you see any sediment?”
Holding it up, he studied the wine. He’d never thought to truly inspect a beverage. Sure, he made his coffees with a professional’s eye, but this was different.
“Next, you swirl. Gently. You don’t want to slam it around the glass, just as you wouldn’t awaken someone by screaming in his ear. You shake a sleeping person awake gently. Use that same soft touch with a wine to awaken the aromas.”
He did as she asked, delicately swirling the liquid. “I know what’s next. Sniff. Because you’ve mentioned using various senses.”
“Very good. Yes, the third S is sniff. But not a quick sniff. Really dip your nose deeply into your glass after you’ve swirled. Inhale. Hold a moment. You’re looking for what we call the notes in the wine. Fruity. Floral. Even herbal.”
“I’m getting fruit. And… oak.”
“Good,” she declared, nodding encouragingly at him. “Lost Creek wines are aged in oak, and the wood can have its own separate notes. They might be of vanilla or coconut. Even a spice.”
Dax swirled and sniffed, giving her his opinion.
“You’re spot on. You may have a heightened sense of smell because of the coffees you work with. Go for a sip now. A small one. You want to coat your tongue with the flavor. Do not swish it harshly like a mouthwash,” she warned.
He did as she instructed and she added, “The second sip is when the notes really begin to burst in your mouth. The flavors will be more obvious.”
“You’re right,” he said after his second taste. “It’s light. Clean. This sounds crazy, but I can almost taste and smell grass. “
“Excellent. You’re sampling a Sauvignon Blanc. I should’ve mentioned that at the start. It’s light-bodied and has green scents within in.”
Dax sipped again. “I know this sounds crazy. Maybe… jalape?o?”
Ivy smiled broadly. “You have an excellent palate. Most people can’t figure out that taste. Being in Texas, the jalape?o was something Dad wanted to include in this particular year’s wine profile.”
“I’ve got one more S to go.”
“You were right on the money before. Savor is the final S. Take a bigger drink. Slowly move it in your mouth before you swallow. See how long the taste lingers on your palate. That’s called the finish,” she explained.
Excitement filled him. “I’ve never taken this kind of time to appreciate any food or drink. Not even the coffees I serve, and believe me, I’ve spent my fair share of time experimenting with just the right flavors to serve. You’ve taught me an entire new way to look at my own product.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Would you like to continue? I always take customers from the lightest to the most full-bodied wines. Also, we’re tasting the youngest to oldest wines, as well as white to red. You get more out of a tasting if you follow those simple rules. But first, eat a cracker.”
She handed him one, explaining that it would help clear his palate. She also gave him a glass of water, telling Dax he needed a clean palate to move on with his tasting.
They moved through two more whites and then on to the reds. Ivy taught him how to hold a white napkin up and place the glass filled with red wine next to it in order to see the color better. She taught him about the tannins and acidity and the difference between French and American oak barrels. Dax drank up everything she said.
Just as he was drinking her in.
He was attracted to her physically, but he also was drawn to her intellect and expertise regarding wines. Growing up poor, he’d known education was his ticket out of poverty. Fortunately, he liked learning—especially from Ivy. She made things clear and simple. It also didn’t hurt that the wines were incredibly tasty.
They finished with the last wine, and Dax knew he wasn’t ready to leave Ivy’s company yet.
“Have I made you a convert?” she asked. “I know you said you were a beer drinker, but hopefully, you can see yourself ordering and enjoying a glass of wine in the future.”
“Actually, I’ve grown in appreciating beers since I moved to Lost Creek, thanks to the craft beers available in the area. I used to just grab whatever was available, but I’ve learned there’s a real difference in beers. Wine is now the same way. I don’t think I’d ever pick up a glass and take a drink without giving it some thought.”
He pushed his empty glass toward her. “You explained things really well, Ivy. I not only understand wine now, I think I could really come to enjoy it, especially the reds. I’d like to learn more about the winemaking process. I respect what I do with coffees, and I think it would be interesting to learn more about how wines come to be.”
“I’m sure Braden would be happy to give you a tour of the winery and walk you through the various stages,” she told him. “By the way, your tasting is on the house.”
“No, you spent a lot of time with me.” He glanced up at the price chart for tastings. “And this was way more expensive than the coffee I gave to you.”
She shrugged. “No one else came in. I wouldn’t have been busy as it is. Usually, that last hour before closing this time of year, people are sparse. Once school is out and people are traveling the state more, I’ll have more tasters coming in and staying until closing time.”
“I still feel as if I owe you,” Dax said. “How about I take you to dinner now?”
His own words surprised him. While he’d become more spontaneous since leaving accounting and his divorce, offering to take Ivy to dinner hadn’t been on his mind.
Until he’d blurted out the invitation.
“I don’t know,” she said, the confidence of the past hour together suddenly gone.
“Do you have anywhere to be after you close the tasting room?”
Ivy worried her bottom lip, sending a surge of desire rushing through him. “No.”
“Then let me help you close the place up. We can go to Country Hearth. Or Blackwood BBQ. What do you say?”
She was quiet a moment, and Dax prayed she would agree to accompany him.
“Blackwood BBQ,” she finally said. “I can never get enough barbeque.”
“Then tell me what to do.”
“You can start by turning the open sign to the closed side.”
He went to the door and opened it, flipping the sign, and then closing it again. Now that they were truly alone, he yearned to kiss her. But his gut told him Ivy Hart was not a woman to be rushed. It also told him he would patiently wait until she was ready.
And then he expected it to be the best kiss of his life.