sections.”
“All reds?” Sofia asked.
Milena nodded once. “Shall we go, Aidan?”
Aidan shot Sofia an apologetic glance. Milena’s snubbing must be obvious for him to have noticed it.
Milena took them on a quick tour of the nearest vines, the area where the wine was made, and into the wine cellar. The underground vault smelled of vanilla and oak, and Sofia drew in a deep breath. It felt nice and cool in here after the sun outside.
“We use only Armenian oak barrels,” Milena pointed to rows of barrels. “They are denser than French oak, and they give our wine a silky feel and a spicy taste. It’s the subtlety of ancient traditions we’re calling out from the grapes.”
The room didn’t have any water flowing to it, so there was no reason to have come here, but Sofia didn’t say anything. She was tired of looking at toilets.
“I have one more thing to show you.” Milena took them to the back of the cellar. “Do you see those?”
Sofia followed her pointing finger. At the back of the cellar large clay jars were half buried.
“They are karas , what you call amphorae,” Milena said. “We are using them to age the Areni Noir the traditional way, to see if Americans can appreciate something so antique and precious.”
Sofia wandered over to look at the tall clay jars. They looked like they belonged in a museum, too. Some of the tops had been sealed with what appeared to be wax and buried in the dirt floor of the cellar. It was pretty cool to think the Grigoryans were aging wine the same way mankind had six thousand years ago. She touched the top of a karas . It felt cool and rough under her fingers. Would it be a conflict of interest if she bought some of this wine for her mother? Janet and Tim, Sofia’s step-dad, loved wine.
A shadow flicked on the wall ahead of her, and she turned around to see what was going on. A lot. Milena pressed against Aidan. He was backing up, but he didn’t have a lot of space left before he’d be up against the stone wall. Even in the dim light, she could see he wasn’t happy about it. Milena advanced another step, and he retreated.
“Aidan,” Sofia called. “Come take a look at this!”
“You bet.” He detached himself from Milena and practically sprinted over.
Milena flashed Sofia a wicked smile, then went back to watching Aidan’s butt as he walked away. Sofia stifled a giggle. Aidan rarely bailed her out when she was getting unwanted male attention, but she was going to be the bigger person.
“Imagine,” Sofia said. “Winemakers with cellars like this thousands of years ago.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Aidan tilted his head toward the door. “But we need to go back to the office. We have to pick something up.”
“Do we?” she asked.
“We do. We very much do.”
CHAPTER 11
A idan’s car was parked in. The lot had been empty when she arrived, but now it was full—two catering trucks, a limousine, a selection of SUVs, and one lonely green Prius. The driveway reminded her of a film shoot.
“It’s the wedding!” Milena said. “Come! There will be dancing.”
“I’ve a couple of hours before I have to be in Burbank,” Sofia said.
“What’s in Burbank?” Aidan asked.
“The Riders of Randorin.”
“That is an outstanding show,” Milena said. “I saw it with Annabelle. She loves horses. I’m not such a horse lover, but the show is still wonderful. The men are so sexy!”
“What’s so sexy about a guy who smells like a horse?” Aidan asked.
“Muscles and grace. And the control of such a huge animal,” Milena answered. “Sexy.”
Sofia laughed. “Sexy.”
“I’ll get the catering van moved,” Aidan
“All reds?” Sofia asked.
Milena nodded once. “Shall we go, Aidan?”
Aidan shot Sofia an apologetic glance. Milena’s snubbing must be obvious for him to have noticed it.
Milena took them on a quick tour of the nearest vines, the area where the wine was made, and into the wine cellar. The underground vault smelled of vanilla and oak, and Sofia drew in a deep breath. It felt nice and cool in here after the sun outside.
“We use only Armenian oak barrels,” Milena pointed to rows of barrels. “They are denser than French oak, and they give our wine a silky feel and a spicy taste. It’s the subtlety of ancient traditions we’re calling out from the grapes.”
The room didn’t have any water flowing to it, so there was no reason to have come here, but Sofia didn’t say anything. She was tired of looking at toilets.
“I have one more thing to show you.” Milena took them to the back of the cellar. “Do you see those?”
Sofia followed her pointing finger. At the back of the cellar large clay jars were half buried.
“They are karas , what you call amphorae,” Milena said. “We are using them to age the Areni Noir the traditional way, to see if Americans can appreciate something so antique and precious.”
Sofia wandered over to look at the tall clay jars. They looked like they belonged in a museum, too. Some of the tops had been sealed with what appeared to be wax and buried in the dirt floor of the cellar. It was pretty cool to think the Grigoryans were aging wine the same way mankind had six thousand years ago. She touched the top of a karas . It felt cool and rough under her fingers. Would it be a conflict of interest if she bought some of this wine for her mother? Janet and Tim, Sofia’s step-dad, loved wine.
A shadow flicked on the wall ahead of her, and she turned around to see what was going on. A lot. Milena pressed against Aidan. He was backing up, but he didn’t have a lot of space left before he’d be up against the stone wall. Even in the dim light, she could see he wasn’t happy about it. Milena advanced another step, and he retreated.
“Aidan,” Sofia called. “Come take a look at this!”
“You bet.” He detached himself from Milena and practically sprinted over.
Milena flashed Sofia a wicked smile, then went back to watching Aidan’s butt as he walked away. Sofia stifled a giggle. Aidan rarely bailed her out when she was getting unwanted male attention, but she was going to be the bigger person.
“Imagine,” Sofia said. “Winemakers with cellars like this thousands of years ago.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Aidan tilted his head toward the door. “But we need to go back to the office. We have to pick something up.”
“Do we?” she asked.
“We do. We very much do.”
CHAPTER 11
A idan’s car was parked in. The lot had been empty when she arrived, but now it was full—two catering trucks, a limousine, a selection of SUVs, and one lonely green Prius. The driveway reminded her of a film shoot.
“It’s the wedding!” Milena said. “Come! There will be dancing.”
“I’ve a couple of hours before I have to be in Burbank,” Sofia said.
“What’s in Burbank?” Aidan asked.
“The Riders of Randorin.”
“That is an outstanding show,” Milena said. “I saw it with Annabelle. She loves horses. I’m not such a horse lover, but the show is still wonderful. The men are so sexy!”
“What’s so sexy about a guy who smells like a horse?” Aidan asked.
“Muscles and grace. And the control of such a huge animal,” Milena answered. “Sexy.”
Sofia laughed. “Sexy.”
“I’ll get the catering van moved,” Aidan
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