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Mac glanced at the wine list again. “Though he still holds a grudge toward Sideways for making him rip out perfectly good grafts because people started taking wine advice from Paul Giamatti.”

Jodie laughed. This was a side of Mac she never expected. “I think I’d like your granddad.”

“You would.” His smile softened. “Nobody on either side of my family believes children should sit around being decorative, so my cousins and brothers and I always worked right alongside the adults when we were there. Pruning, tying vines, harvesting.”

Now that sounded more like the man she knew. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“No, yeah. We had fun too, though. And Grandma fed everybody like an army. At the end of the day, we’d sit at a long wooden table under a huge oak tree beside the vineyard, talking and eating until it got too chilly. Then we’d go in, clean the dishes, go to bed, and start all over again in the morning.”

Jodie closed her eyes. “That sounds like heaven.”

“It was. Made it hard sometimes to go back to Alberta. But then when I’d get home, I’d realize how much I missed it. Missed the cattle and the horses and the wide-open sky.”

“I can believe it. Montana’s much the same.” She grinned. “Don’t tell Arden, but I’ve always thought of Montana as Colorado’s handsomer, more rugged big brother.”

Mac nodded and laughed. Everyone knew how proud Arden was to be a Colorado native. He pointed his chin at Jodie’s food menu. “So, know what you’re getting?”

“I do. I looked over the menu online before we came so I’d know what they had.”

He grinned. “I had a feeling.”

Ugh! He knows me too well.

“I know what I want,” she murmured as she ran her finger down the menu until she found the right entree, “but there’s about a seventy-percent chance I’ll insult somebody’s French ancestors trying to pronounce it.”

Mac held out his hand. “Show me.”

She pointed.

When the waiter came back, Mac ordered in effortless French. The waiter asked a question in French and Mac replied without hesitation before switching back to English to confirm the wine.

Jodie stared at him.

“What?”

“I knew French was in your file. I didn’t know you spoke it like that.”

Mac shrugged. “French immersion classes growing up. Mom insisted.”

“In Alberta?”

Mac narrowed his eyes. “Quebec doesn’t own the French language, Jodie.”

She laughed. “I know that. Mostly. But you still speak it so well.”

He shrugged. “The military knocked the rust off. It came in handy on some of my deployments.” A shadow passed over his expression, and Jodie knew the reason for that as well. As she’d said, Kyle did thorough background checks.

The wine arrived. The server poured a little into Jodie’s glass, and she took a sip.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Mac tasted his. “Wine Grandma would approve.” He nodded at the waiter. “Merci.”

Jodie giggled. “Wine Grandma?”

Mac grinned. “Yeah. And Dad’s mom is Butter-Tart Grandma.”

Jodie laughed again. “Important distinction. And I need to thank the woman someday for teaching you the recipe. Those were out of this world.”