Chapter 2

At least he hadn’t overcooked the pasta. That was a win. But while he thought the garlic-mushroom wine sauce had mellowed nicely, Robert’s refusal to try anything other than the salad had him doubting the rest of his plans for the evening. Maybe popcorn and a movie would be too juvenile?

Grant breathed into his hand and gave a quick sniff. A little heavy on the garlic, but nothing he’d consider offensive if both of them had indulged. Still, this was a first date, and even though it had been a while, nothing ever happened on a first date.

Grant searched his junk drawer for one of the plastic-wrapped mints left over from Christmas. Robert was attractive enough, with light brown hair and a sleek build, but the lack of spark in their otherwise polite dinner conversation was disappointing.

Give him some time, Grant chided himself. What did he expect on their initial meeting? Smoldering glances and a fireball of chemistry so intense they would fall onto the kitchen counter, their meal forgotten in the blaze of passion?

Maybe, the tiny wishful voice inside his head that had started this whole mess meekly offered.

Too bad. This wasn’t his favorite rom-com, or his favorite porno. Point made, if only to himself, Grant filled the glasses with the Armagnac he had been saving for a special occasion. His first date of the new year should qualify.

He inhaled and stretched his arms out in front and then behind his back, palms meeting in a silent clap to release his pent-up tension. Grant repeated the motion a couple more times before shaking out his arms.

Relax. Be patient. Give Robert a chance. They both seemed to want the same things, one of the reasons a mutual friend had passed on Robert’s phone number when Grant announced his resolve to find himself happy and settled in a relationship this year.

Grant put his hand on his belly. He swallowed down the acidic burn from its internal gyrations and took another what he hoped was calming, breath. He needed to have faith a friend’s recommendation offered a better start to a potential romance than a random meeting in a bar.

Pep talk completed, Grant grabbed their drinks and hit the light switch with his elbow. The small glow from the bulb over the stove illuminated his path into the living room.

“Cognac? How thoughtful.”

Robert’s welcoming smile was a little too wide and a little too plastic for Grant’s comfort as he passed him one of the snifters.

“Actually, this is Armagnac.” Oh God, could he sound any more pretentious? So much for keeping things light. Grant’s face flushed with the hated tale-tell rush of heat and the slick tickle of sweat beneath his arms told him his antiperspirant failed to live up to its advertising.

“Never heard of it.” Robert shrugged, a sinuous movement of his shoulders before he tossed back a hefty swig.

Grant silently mourned the abuse of the fine spirit, but urged himself to patience. He took his own savoring sip. The bottle had been worth waiting for and his joy at the explosion of flavor on his taste buds set him off again with an enthusiastic burst of information.

“It’s funny, while both are distilled from white wine grapes, Armagnac is distilled only once and needs to be aged for a longer period of time.” He held the glass up to the light and admired the rich color. “The extra patience is rewarded by more finesse and roundness in the flavor.” All right, he cautioned himself. Enough of the lecture. Don’t continue unless he’s interested.

“Sounds like a lot of work for something so medicinal.” Robert touched the back of his hand to his mouth, a gesture of distaste if Grant ever saw one, and placed the snifter on the low table before him. The delicate glass teetered, half on-half off the coaster until Grant nudged it level. “I’m not here having dinner with “Weather Guy Grant” to discuss cognac.”

“Armagnac,” Grant winced at the hated nickname even as he corrected Robert once again. The anticipation that had danced him into the kitchen drained away, leaving a solid lump of disillusion in his gut. The next thing he knew Robert would be asking about…

“Enough of the small talk. I want to hear what it’s like to work with Rick Steel. Have the two of you ever done any storm-chasing? You know, like that movie?” This time Robert’s smile oozed enough fanish enthusiasm to leave Grant wishing he’d brought in some extra napkins to mop up the mess. “That’s sooo exciting.”

“No, I haven’t.” Grant set his snifter down, the smooth taste of the long-anticipated bottle turned sour by Robert’s question. Instead of a possible boyfriend Robert was nothing but another Rick Steel groupie. He was going to rip his friend, Jason a new one for putting him in this position.