She followed him down the hallway to her small bistro kitchen where the heavenly smell of pepperoni and sausage with the aforementioned “vegetables” permeated the air and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten for most of the day. She’d downed the last of the oatmeal she had and had a piece of buttered toast before going to the interview.

She’d been planning on stopping at Laurel’s in the morning because her sister always made breakfast for Mitch and their toddler and usually had extra. Except she’d forgotten she didn’t have a car.

“Hey, don’t get sad on me again,” he said, holding out a chair for her. There were only two, and Remy looked like he’d made the most of the small space. The table was set beautifully with her nice plates and the good silverware. Two wine glasses sat at their spots, and the bottle had been opened and allowed to aerate.

The man might not eat vegetables like a good boy, but he knew how to present a meal.

She sat down, Remy handing her a paper towel like he was passing her fine linen. He poured the wine with one hand, by the bottom of the bottle, with perfect grace and control.

“You pour that like a sommelier, not a bar owner,” she mentioned, trying not to let him know how attractive she found him and his impeccable manners. There was something about the controlled grace he displayed that fascinated her. She wondered what his bayou bar was like.

“A dive bar owner,” he corrected with a wink. “But wine is important where I come from. Food is important. We take both of those things seriously in Papillon Bayou. My grandfather loved wine and he taught me all about it. And here you thought I was a beer-swilling mongrel.”

She picked up the wine glass. “Well, you apparently were surprised I knew how to pour a drink.”

“Touché,” he replied, sitting down across from her. “I was, actually. When did you start tending bar?”

He allowed her to get a slice first before pulling his own.

“I put myself through college tending bar. Mostly scholarships, but I worked about twenty hours a week at this dive bar up in Denton. It was right off the TWU campus. It took me a while to realize that almost the entire clientele was female.”

He grinned. “Lesbian bar?”

“Yep, and they were awesome. I was this dumbass thing who’d barely been out of her trailer park. The town I grew up in wasn’t small, but it was oddly isolated. Everyone was very homogenous. I got to Denton and it was like this huge city and I was overwhelmed. That bar became my family,” she said. “They taught me…well, everything about living in the larger world.”