A Hidden Fire

“Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time,” she said dryly.  “You’re making this sound like ten tons of fun.”

He shook his head at her.  “It is fun.  You’ll like it.”

“How do you know?  I don’t even drink that much.  I have a beer now and then on the rare occasions I hang out with friends.  Or watch pro-wrestling, but that’s a recent thing.”

“You know, that’s really more Car—”

“‘Get the folding chair!’” she said in an odd voice.

He frowned.  “Was that supposed to be me?”

“I never said accents were a strength, Dr. Vecchio.”

Giovanni watched her laughing at him, amused that she could be both humorous and alluring at the same time.  In the months they had spent together, he had expected his curiosity and interest in her to wane.  He was surprised when it had not.  In fact, he enjoyed her company more as they spent time together, but he was reluctant to examine the reasons too closely.

“No,” he murmured quietly.  “I believe your strengths lie elsewhere, Beatrice.”

She stared at him, an unreadable expression blanketing her normally open face.  “Giovanni, what—what are we…I mean—”

“Just enjoying a drink.”  He tried to lighten his voice, but he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, even as the server set two trays in front of them, five small glasses on each tray.

“Just a drink, huh?”

He nodded and his hand lifted to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.  He rubbed it between his fingers for just a moment before he pulled away and moved forward on the couch to pick up a glass.  He could hear Beatrice’s heart race, but he took a deep breath and tried to calm his own blood as it began to churn.

After pouring half an inch of water into two glasses of the light gold liquid, he handed one to her.  She took it, and stared into the glass, looking at it against the light of the fireplace.

“The color is pretty.  It’s warm.”  She peered at him from the corner of her eye.

“It is.  These are all single malt whiskeys, which means they haven’t been blended with other types.  They’re all scotch—little nod to our host.”  Giovanni nodded toward Gavin, who was glancing at them in the corner.  “So it’s whisky without the ‘e.’ Generally, the lighter the color,” he held up his glass and touched the edge to hers, “the lighter the flavor.  The water opens up the scent.”

“So,” she asked quietly, “I should smell it now?”

He nodded.  “Go ahead, but not too deeply.  I’m curious what you’ll detect.”

“Is there something I’m looking for?”

Giovanni shook his head.  “Not necessarily.  Everyone’s nose is different.  I’m just curious.”

He watched as she bent her head to inhale the aroma of the whisky.

“Swirl it in the glass, just a little.”

“What?”

“Swirl it,” he said, covering her hand with his own as he rotated the glass in a small circle.  “Just a little.”  He could already smell the scent of the gold scotch rising from her hand.

“Oh,” she said quietly before lifting the tulip-shaped glass to her nose.  He watched as she inhaled, and a flush rose to her skin as the aroma of the whisky rose from the glass.  “It’s sweet.  It smells a little bit like oranges and flowers.  But…kind of earthy, too.  Does that make sense?”

He nodded as she brought the glass to her lips and sipped.  She immediately wrinkled her face and he smiled.

“It’s strong,” she said with a laugh.

“Taste it again.  Another sip.  You’re just tasting the alcohol.  If you roll it in your mouth a bit, you’ll taste more.”

“Okay.”

She took another small sip of the light whisky and nodded.  “I think…I like it.  I don’t think I could drink much, though.  It’s very intense.”

“Intense is a good word for it.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

He frowned, looking at the selection in front of him.  Any one of the five would make a good drink, but as he thought about it, there was one he knew he would pick over the others.  He pointed the second glass, light amber in color.

“Of these?  This one.”

Beatrice smiled and reached for the small pitcher of water, adding just as much as he had to the first glasses.  She lifted it to her nose and smelled again.

“Sweet again, but not quite as much.  And…it almost seems clearer.  Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded.  “The flavors in this one are very straightforward.  Have a taste now.”

He sipped it and watched her reaction as she tried the second glass.

“It’s good.  It’s still strong, simpler, like the way it smells.  But…” she took a second taste, letting the whiskey linger a little longer in her mouth, “it kind of grows, doesn’t it?  It’s more complicated than it seems at first.”

“Perceptive as always, Beatrice,” he said softly.  He stared at her as she examined the glasses in front of her, finishing the drink she held in her hand.  She set the glass down on the table and looked at him eagerly.