Tasting Notes Read Online Free Page B

after snow fell it became a dull shade of brownish gray, here the snow was pure white. He wanted to get out of the car to take a picture, but he still had a few hours’ drive ahead of him, and stopping now would only delay him further. His eyes were beginning to scratch with each blink, and he knew the longer he dawdled, the longer it would take until he could collapse into his pillow-top mattress at the hotel Scarlet booked for him.
    He kept going, enjoying the drive as much as he could as the road wound down the mountain toward the sea. He still had a little over three hours to go before he reached his destination, and the sun was already beginning to dip behind the trees. Although twilight cast a warm glow over everything, it made his already tired eyes more fatigued as he concentrated on the winding of the lines down the road.
    West reached the bottom of the mountain and drove through the little valley. His back ached from cramming all six feet two inches of himself into a small sports car for nearly forty hours in four days. Ferraris were beautiful machines, but they weren’t necessarily meant for large men to be driving on long trips.
    He checked his fuel levels, noting he had a little less than half a tank left. He’d need to find somewhere to refuel before continuing to Eureka. As he drove, he kept an eye out for signs, and sure enough, a few miles down the road he found one. The next town was only six miles ahead. West rubbed his gritty eyes. He’d need to get something to eat too. He hadn’t eaten since he left the hotel that morning, and his stomach was rumbling. For a moment he contemplated grabbing something at the next gas station, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat a reheated hot dog or a soggy sandwich.
    Canyon Creek came into sight as he made up his mind about stopping for dinner. It was a small town, nestled at the base of the Trinity Alps. As he drove through, looking for food and gas, he felt like he’d been transported back to the time of the gold rush. The buildings were historic looking, made primarily of brick, ornamented with crisp white details. The houses looked to be from the same era as well, and many had patriotic red, white, and blue swags hung from the railings of their neatly kept porches.
    It didn’t take him long to locate a gas station, but this wasn’t his typical Chevron or Shell. There was a quaint corner store attached to the awnings that covered the shiny red pumps. West was waiting for the Apple Dumpling Gang to come sauntering out of the store. He parked and went inside to pay—no pay at the pump here.
    Sitting at the counter was a young woman, her hair in a high blond ponytail, popping bubbles in her gum. Her name tag read Beth and she smiled at him when he walked in the door.
    “Could I get fifty bucks on that pump there?” he asked, pointing through the window toward his little black car.
    “Sure thing,” she said.
    “Hey, what would you recommend around here for dinner?” His body was screaming at him, fatigue and hunger battling for dominance, but the starvation won, his stomach grumbling unhappily at not having been filled in so long.
    “We don’t have a lot of restaurants, but the few we have are pretty good. The Golden Dragon, Miller’s Drive-In, and La Casa are all on Main Street at this end of town, and farther up the road is the Pour House and Johnny’s.”
    “Which is the best one?”
    “They’re all good. Depends on what you’re in the mood for.”
    “What’s Johnny’s?”
    “They do pizza. Honestly the best pizza you’ve ever had.”
    West deliberated. It sounded good, but he didn’t know if he was in the mood for pizza. “What about the Pour House?”
    “It’s a bar and grill type place that does mostly home-style cooked meals.”
    “Thank you.” He took Beth’s suggestions into consideration. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal. Even if it wasn’t really home cooked and was only home style, it sounded