Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(24)

“Aren’t you worried about what I’ll do if you get tipsy?”

I eyeballed him with suspicion. “What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Sit on you and let drool ooze out of my mouth until it’s about to hit your face and then suck it back in?”

“You wouldn’t dare. We called a truce, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He crunched on a chip. “I should have thought that through first.”

I set my wine on the table next to the bed and grabbed the package of M&M’s. Tearing it open, I popped a couple in my mouth. They were comforting, although I did wish I had a spoon and a jar of peanut butter. I should have looked for one at the gas station. “You know what? Junk food is exactly what I needed.”

He watched me shovel in another handful. “Is that your favorite candy or something?”

I nodded. “They melt in your mouth, not in your hand.”

“I love things that melt in my mouth,” Gianni said, and something about the way his lips wrapped around the words made me feel hot in the cold room.

I took a sip of my wine.

Gianni ate another chip. “So do you want to talk about tonight?”

“No.”

“Good. Then let’s play a drinking game.”

Tossing a few more M&M’s in my mouth, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. Truth or dare.”

“No, you’ll just dare me to get naked or something.”

He looked offended. “I don’t have to trick women into taking their clothes off, thank you very much. They volunteer.”

“Of course they do. Wait—I have an idea.” I got off the bed and dug my phone from my bag. “There’s an app called Truth or Drink. We used to play it at parties in college. You get random questions and you have to answer truthfully or drink.”

“So it’s honor system?”

“Yes.” I returned to the bed and looked at the screen. “Winnie called back. Hang on, let me listen to her voicemail.” I put the phone to my ear and heard Winnie’s voice, frantic with concern.

“Ellie! Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re out in this storm, it’s so bad! Please get off the road and don’t worry about anything here. Desmond is all set to cover your eleven o’clock tasting tomorrow, and he can cover the one o’clock too if necessary. But call me when you get this, or text me or something, so I’m not awake all night worrying about you!”

I looked at Gianni. “I should call her back. Do you think we’ll make it home by noon tomorrow? I have a one o’clock tasting.”

“If it stops snowing and the roads are plowed, yeah. We can leave first thing.” He crumpled up the empty bag of chips and picked up a protein bar. “Can I have this?”

I nodded and dialed Winnie’s number. She picked up immediately.

“Ellie?”

“Hey.”

“Thank God! You guys okay?”

“We’re fine.” I watched Gianni unwrap the bar. “We found a motel with a vacancy.”

“You mean you’re staying in a motel room together?” she asked, loud enough for Gianni to overhear.

“Yeah. And there’s only one bed.”

She laughed. “How’s that going?”

“Fine.”

“You guys are getting along?”

Gianni made a lewd gesture involving his fist, his tongue, and his inner cheek. I gave him the finger. “As well as you’d expect.”

“I can’t wait to hear about it.”

“We’re going to try to get out of here as soon as we can in the morning. I’ll let you know when we’re on the road.”

“Sounds good.” She laughed again. “Sleep tight.”

“Oh. We will.” I eyed the length of the bed. “We have no choice.”

After ending the call, I opened the Truth or Drink app on my phone and picked up my wine. “Ready to play?”

“Hit me.”

I scrolled through the options. “Do you want to play normal mode, party mode, or dirty mode?”

Gianni looked at me like I was crazy. “Duh.”

I sighed and reached for my wine. “Okay, fine. I feel like I’m going to regret this, but dirty it is.”

“Can I take my pants off?”

“No. What’s your age range for a one-night stand?”

“Hmm.” Gianni thought for a moment.

“Please say at least eighteen.”

“No teenagers. I’ll say twenty to forty-five.”

“Forty-five? Really?”

He shrugged. “I think mature women are hot. But I can’t go near fifty because that’s my mom’s age and then it would be weird.”

“Right.”

“So what about you? Same question.”

“I’d have to say . . . thirty to forty.”

He looked offended. “Why thirty? You’re only twenty-three.”

And so was he, which was why I’d said it. “I know, but I think older men are just better in bed.” I’d actually never been with anyone over twenty-eight.

“In what way?”

“Just . . . more patient. More knowledgeable. More generous. Guys in their twenties think they’re all that just because they have younger bodies, especially if they’re—you know—well-endowed. But it’s not just the size of the boat. It’s definitely the motion of the ocean.”