“Gracias,” Stefano said as he refilled her nearly empty wineglass with red Rioja wine. He took a sip of his own wine and Annabelle realized he’d barely had any yet, while she was apparently on her second glass. She would need to slow down. No more Dutch courage, she ordered herself, and she dug into her empanada with gusto. He smiled, watching her with satisfaction.
She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious, but the baked Spanish pastry filled with fish and tomato was so flavorful and delicious she couldn’t stop herself from taking another big bite.
“I’m probably making a pig of myself,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “But it’s so good.”
His lips curved with approval. “On the contrary. I like a woman with appetite.”
Nervously, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and washed down the last bit of empanada with a bit more wine. “You’re not eating?”
“I am,” he said, taking a bite of chorizo. “I just keep getting distracted.”
“By me?”
His dark eyes gleamed. “Sí.”
Her cheeks went hot as she put down her fork. He’s not flirting,
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