She bit into her slice and, even though she’d been eating them for days, still experienced the spurt of flavor and the intensity of taste which, if possible, tasted even more exquisite since she was sharing it with someone else who appreciated fresh, simple food the way she did.
He nodded, looking blissed out. Then he said, “I can’t believe how good that tastes. I wish you had boxes and boxes.”
“I do, too. Next year we’ll plant more. But I wanted you to try these.”
“Thanks.” His eyes glowed when he looked at her. “I have something for you, too.”
“You do?”
He reached onto an upper shelf and brought down a glass bottle. It didn’t look like the kind of bottle you purchased from the local grocer. When she raised her brows he said, “It’s olive oil. My uncle grows the olives and makes oil in small batches. He also ships me the olives that I use.”
He handed her the bottle and then said, “Wait, let me show you.” He reached into the box of tomatoes, dug around for another heirloom variety, sliced it and then opened the bottle and drizzled oil over the slices. He passed her one and when she bit into the tomato she felt the flavors meld and nearly moaned. She felt Alexei watching her and when their gazes connected she felt something hot flash between them. No, no, no. Hot made her think of fire. Which reminded her of getting burned!
