Chase doesn’t look up at me, but I know he can sense I’m there. As soon as I hear the back door open and shut, I hustle down and disappear into the kitchen. When I see what’s before me, everything hits me all at once. I clutch my stomach and breathe in all the scents. There are baked potatoes, a salad with slivers of carrots, cheese, tomatoes, and croutons on top, and rolls in the oven.
The back door slams shut, and I grit my teeth, wishing I had just grabbed up some food and ran back up to my room. But, instead, I jump away from the kitchen door just as Chase pushes it open, holding a plate with two piping hot New York strip steaks.
“You ready to eat?” he asks, setting the plate down beside the baked potatoes.
“Sure,” I answer, keeping my voice disinterested and aloof, but really, I’m starving, and I want him to get out of my way. My body moves of its own accord, and I find myself leaning over the steaks. “I’ll take my food upstairs.”
Chase bumps me with his hip, pushing me to the side. “Sorry, princess. You’re eating with me tonight.”
“Or what?” I backfire, turning a glare to him. “You’ll keep the food away from me?”
Chase blows out a sigh and glances over at me, all joking aside. “Do you always think the worst?”
I scoff. “Given where I’m at … yes.”
Chase shrugs. “Fair enough. But no, I would never deny you food. If you want to eat upstairs, that’s fine. In all seriousness, I just wanted the company.”
He hands me a plate and starts filling up his own. Once he finishes, he sets his plate on the kitchen table and sits down. I didn’t even notice the table was set for two until now.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll eat with you.”
Chase slides his chair back and beams. “Great. I’ll get some wine.”
He disappears out of the room while I load as much food onto my plate as I can. By the time I sit down, Chase sets a bottle of wine in front of me. And, of course, it’s none other than a bottle of Pinot Noir by Timberwolf Winery.
My eyes cut to him, and he howls with laughter. He has something behind his back, and I can only assume it’s another one of his wines.
“I knew you’d look at me like that,” he jokes. Chase slides the bottle down the table and reveals what’s behind his back. More wine. However, my eyes widen in disbelief when the first thing I notice on the bottle is my Channon Vineyards emblem along with the award-winning label of my Chardonnay. Granted, it won an award but not first place.
“Why do you have that?” I ask, regarding him curiously.
Chase punches the corkscrew into the top and twists. The cork comes out with a loud pop. “I like to study my competition,” he admits. “That way, I can make mine better.”
I snort. “Of course you do.”
He pours us both a glass and takes the seat across from me. “Do you not do the same thing?”
Lifting my glass, I swirl the liquid around and breathe it in. “Nope. I don’t care about my competitors’ wines. My goal is to make the best recipes I can that make me happy.” Closing my eyes, I take a sip, and a moan escapes my lips as I taste the hint of apples and lemon with a tad of vanilla from where I aged it in oak. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted an impeccable wine. “Then again,” I open my eyes and focus on him, “I do try my best to beat you.”
Chase brings the glass to his lips, and his gaze is one mine as I watch him swallow a tiny sip of my wine. His smile widens, and he takes in a little more. “I can see why this wine won last year. The flavor is amazing.” He drinks the rest and pours more. “I was thrilled when it placed.”
My stomach rumbles, so I cut into my steak and take a bite. “Why would you be happy for me?”
Chase’s eyes never stray from mine. “Because I know you work hard, Kara. To get your vineyards the name and recognition it’s earned in such a short amount of time is phenomenal. Your marketing skills are outstanding.”
My first instinct is to go on the offense. Why would Chase give me a compliment like that? Chase focuses on his food, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm in his expression. Was he serious? Silence fills the air, and I welcome it. The food is terrific, and I want to savor every bite.
I finish off my wine and reach for the bottle to pour myself another glass. There’s a little bit left, so I set it back on the table, wondering if Chase will finish it off. He eyes it, and I fight the urge to smile when he pours the rest for himself.
It doesn’t take long to finish my food, and it feels fantastic to have a full belly. Next, my attention turns to the bottle of Pinot Noir that Chase slid down to the end of the table. I feel it’s only fair that I try some of his wine, too. So, stretching across the table, I grab the bottle and slide it over to Chase.
His brows furrow, but then he smirks. “Are you implying you want to try it?”
“Just open it,” I say with an exasperated huff.
Chuckling, he uncorks it and pours some in my glass. I hold it up to the light and swirl it around; the color is a deep burgundy red. Breathing it in, I intentionally keep my gaze away from Chase; I know he’s watching me. Here we go.
Pressing the glass to my lips, I tilt it back, letting the vibrantly smooth liquid slide down my throat. I get the hint of raspberries and cherries with a touch of baking spice. “You aged it in French oak, didn’t you?”
Chase’s mouth relaxes into a smile. “I did. So, what do you think?”
What do I think? It’s delectable, but he’ll get an even bigger head if I tell him that. I take another sip and shrug. “It’s good, but mine’s better.”
Chase bellows out a laugh, and it takes all I have not to join in with him. I’ve always loved the sound of his laughter, even when I hated him. Unfortunately, I know my reprieve isn’t going to last long. For the past two days, I’ve been free and on my own, secluded from the rest of his pack. Sadly, I have a feeling it won’t be like that for much longer. My punishment has only just begun.
I finish off my wine and slide the glass away. My head feels a little fuzzy, and I assume it’s the alcohol taking effect on my weakened body. I don’t have the stamina of my wolf anymore. But, in a way, I like how it feels to be slightly drunk.
“Are you okay?” Chase asks, concern etched on his face.
I wave him off. “I’m fine. I do have a question, though.”
He rests his elbows on the table. “What is it?”
My pulse surges and tight knots form in my stomach. I don’t want to get angry with Chase, but I suspect I’m about to. Licking my drip lips, I meet his gaze. “Are you making me work at the restaurant tomorrow?”
I hold my breath as I wait for the answer. The second Chase shakes his head no, I draw in a lungful of air as relief settles over me. Laughing, Chase sits back in his chair. “I take it you don’t want to go back there?”
“No,” I belt out. “It was hell. I’d rather be locked in your cellar with no food or water.” I peer right into his eyes so he can see the seriousness in mine. “I mean it, Chase. The whole time I wanted to kill someone. If you want to keep me contained, that’s not the way to do it.”
“Duly noted,” Chase replies, his gaze narrowed. “However, you do have plans tomorrow.”