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“Nothing.” She shakes her head and waves Reid away. “The wine went down wrong.”

When I look back at Andrei, both of his eyebrows have risen.

“I heard it after I said it,” I explain.

“Did you?” His voice carries the faintest hint of humor.

“Yes, but you could still answer.”

“I could, krasavitsa.” He takes another drink instead.

I wait, but he seems perfectly comfortable leaving the question between us. “You really don’t like talking about yourself.”

“I talk about myself.”

“No, you answer questions using the smallest number of words humanly possible.” I gesture toward him with my glass. “Is that a business strategy, or were you born this frustrating?”

He considers the question while a server passes behind him with a tray of appetizers. “I don’t recall.”

“That was almost another joke.”

“It wasn’t,” he assures me.

“It was closer than anything else you’ve said.”

He drinks before I can decide whether I earned an actual smile. Something about almost making him laugh feels far more satisfying than it should.

I look down at the pale gold wine in my glass and search for a safer subject. “What am I drinking?”

“Estate chardonnay.”

“I gathered the chardonnay part from the menu.” I raise the glass toward the rows beyond the pavilion. “What makes it an estate chardonnay?”

“The grapes are grown here, and the wine is produced and bottled on the property.” Andrei moves closer when another group of guests passes behind me, placing his body between mine and the edge of the crowd.

“Do you taste every wine before you sell it?” I ask, glancing from my glass to the rows of vines beyond the pavilion.

“Yes.”

“All of it?” The question slips out before I realize how ridiculous it sounds, and I wrinkle my nose. “I mean every variety, not every bottle.”

His eyebrows rise again. “Every bottle would be impractical.”

“I realize that.” Heat touches my cheeks as Birdie hides another smile.

“Then you should ask what you mean,” he says, the corner of his mouth curving.

“I usually do.” I chew on my bottom lip. Questions have always been how I make sense of people and the world around me. When I’m nervous, they tend to escape before I decide whether anyone wants to answer them. “Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of the editing process.”

“I can imagine.” Amusement softens Andrei’s expression.

I take another sip and let the flavor rest on my tongue. Apple is the first thing I recognize, followed by citrus and a faint warmth after I swallow.

Andrei watches my face. “What do you taste?”

“Apples and citrus.” I take another sip to make certain. “Maybe vanilla, although that could be completely wrong.”

“It isn’t.”