“What kind of olives are with the lamb?” Joe inquired. Tara shot him an amused glance, which he caught. He just grinned.
Tyler flashed his white teeth too. “They’re Arbequina olives,” he replied easily. “Good question.”
“Sounds incredible, Tyler,” Tara said. “Thank you so much.”
“And naturally, each course is paired with a wine that will enhance the experience,” he added. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. It was a pleasure meeting you all.”
“He is so gorgeous,” Sasha sighed when he’d left. Joe and Nick glanced at each other and Tara could see them resisting the eye roll. She smiled.
“Yes, he is,” she said. “He’s also happily married and a new father.”
Tara chatted with the two wives about their day and suggested some shops for them to visit the next day before heading north again, feeling Joe’s warm eyes and smile on her. Even though they were having separate conversations, she felt as if they were together.
Soon their starter was served, crispy, chewy baguette spread with the olive and walnut combination, a tangy hint of Dijon mustard and fresh herbs…thyme, oregano and…was that sage? Delicious. It was accompanied by a nice local Zinfandel.
Tyler Gregg tried to use local ingredients and wines in his restaurant as much as possible, although he did import specialty items as well. At Santa Ynez Olives, they appreciated his business, as the restaurant used extensive quantities of a number of different olive oils and olives.
The salad was simple, as Tyler had said, but exquisite, with a fabulous Arbequina extra virgin oil.
“So, all these things are made with your oil and olives?” Joe asked Tara and she nodded. She shot him a look. Had he asked that just so she could show off for their guests? Gratitude warmed her inside.
“Yes,” she said. “Tyler is an amazing chef, so we’re very proud he chooses to use our oil and olives.”
She was proud of their company and she appreciated Joe helping show their visitors how successful they were. She eyed him across the table. He was talking again with Ben and Bob, knowledgeable yet unafraid to admit when he didn’t know something.
“I’ve been in this business all of four weeks now,” he said to them with a laugh. “All I know is how much I don’t know.”
They laughed too, but Tara knew Joe had already learned a lot about the olive business. So much, it was scary. And their guests were impressed too.
“We could use someone like you at our ranch,” Ben said. Joe laughed.
The main course, a fabulous creation of perfectly pink and succulent lamb enhanced by garlic and lemons and, of course, the olives was served at a leisurely pace.
“A pretty traditional combination,” Tara commented. “But Tyler does it so well.”
“Fresh herbs too,” Ben agreed. “Really nice.”
“Nice presentation,” Joe added. Lemon halves and olive branches garnished the dish. “A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have even known what that is.” He smiled self-deprecatingly.
The local wine, a lovely Syrah, was another perfect complement.
Dessert arrived, a delicious, moist cake dotted with small champagne grapes, dusted with confectioner’s sugar and served with, of course, champagne, a dry sparkling white from another local vineyard.
“Made with olive oil too.” Joe asked of the cake.
She nodded. “Of course. Olive oil and butter, I believe.”
After dessert, Tara looked down the table to where her grandfather was rising from his seat. It sounded like he was leaving already. He walked around behind her chair and bent down to speak with her.
“Thank for you arranging all this, Tara. It’s been a good evening.”
Her chest tightened at his words of praise, faint as they were.
“You can take care of the bill?” he inquired quietly. “I need to go home now. It’s late.”
“It’s not that late,” she protested. “And how will I get home?”
He frowned, then looked across the table. “Joe, can you drive Tara home?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Of course.” Tara and Joe’s eyes met across the table.
Grandpa turned to Sasha with a frown. “You’re coming home with me,” he said, voice clipped.
Tara’s stomach clenched. Her gaze flickered between Grandpa’s scowl and Sasha’s slightly inebriated pout. Apparently Grandpa had noticed Sasha’s sulky face and rapid alcohol consumption throughout the dinner.
Sasha stood too. “Fine.” She tossed her hair. “I have another party to go to anyway.”
And with a pointed look at Nick, she followed Grandpa out of the restaurant.
At one time Tara would have been delighted to see Grandpa’s disapproval directed at Sasha instead of her for a change. But tonight she didn’t feel delight. She felt…worried. About Sasha. She wasn’t handling her disappointment or hurt or whatever it was she was feeling about Nick very well, downing martini after martini.
There had to be more to it than that. As far as Tara knew, Sasha barely knew Nick. And she’d been drinking a lot for a while now. Clearly, she was deeply unhappy and Tara cursed herself for not realizing this sooner. She watched Sasha and Grandpa leave together with a tight feeling in her chest, then turned back to Joe. He looked at her, eyes alight with…concern?
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded. The other guests decided to leave too and she and Joe finished off the evening together, thanking them for coming, wishing them good night like a host and hostess of a dinner party. Something she’d always found so uncomfortable and excruciating became easy and enjoyable with him there at her side.
Nick excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving them alone.
Joe’s smile deepened as he looked down at her and reached out a hand to touch a loose tendril of hair.
“Did I tell you how hot you look tonight?”
“Um…” She had no idea. She was transfixed, watching his full lips move as he smiled and spoke. He had such a nice mouth…
“Tara?”
“Mmm?”
He bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers, exactly what she wanted him to do. He smelled so good and he was so warm, his mouth firm and gentle on hers. She swayed where she stood.
“You taste good too,” he murmured, and kissed her again. She parted her lips under his, deepening the kiss, and he rested his fingers on her cheek, holding her there gently while he kissed her again and again.
The sound of a throat clearing startled both of them and they turned to see their server standing there with the bill for the evening. He smiled at them.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I’ll leave this with you and be back in a few minutes.”
Tara mindlessly took the bill from his hand, in a daze and bemused. She glanced down at it, then back at Joe. Smiling, he plucked the bill from her fingers and quickly scanned it. He showed her the total.
“Is that what you expected?”
She nodded. Tyler had given her a price including wine and they’d had a few other drinks on top of that. She pulled her gold card from her purse. It was only a few minutes before the waiter returned and whisked her card away, returning with the credit card slip. She scribbled in a generous tip for the waiter, then scrawled her signature across the bottom.
“Okay, we can go,” she said breathlessly, stuffing the receipt and the card into her tiny purse.
“Where the hell did Nick get to?” Joe took Tara’s arm, then paused. “Let’s go to Le Château,” he said gruffly.
She reached a hand up and pushed that lock of dark hair off his face. His eyes were hot and heavy-lidded, and heat built between them as they eyed each other. She felt edgy, achy, dizzy. She knew he wanted to be alone with her, but… “I don’t want to go there.”