Chapter 8

I set the casserole on the trivet on the table, found the corkscrew, and opened the wine. I’d intended to serve a chardonnay, so the glasses were already on the table. But his Chenin blanc was even better. After I poured the wine, I served us both a generous helping and sat down.

Deacon took a cautious bite in deference to the heat, and he closed his eyes as he savored the morsel in his mouth. “God, that’s good.”

“Thank you. I cheated a little with the sauce and used canned soup as the base, but still, it’s pretty good.” I took my own bite and loved the way the flavors melded on my tongue.