Sweet like Wine: Love Your Dimples Even More-Chapter 133 - 68: A Job... That’s Perfect for You

Summer Fairmont came out of the dilapidated Brunschwig Distillery and saw Artie’s car was still there.

Without pausing, she walked straight over.

"Didn’t leave?" Summer asked after seeing Leo in the car clearly.

Her tone was indifferent, and her expression revealed nothing. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The wind on Islay was still blowing, the peat still burning, as if nothing had changed.

"Well, I..." Leo’s mind was blank when he saw Summer.

Who am I?

What am I doing?

Why am I here?

Leo couldn’t even answer these simple three questions for himself, let alone address Summer’s more challenging question about why he hadn’t left.

"Let’s go."

Summer spoke Chinese never using modal particles.

"Let’s go" seemed straightforward, yet it felt somewhat different from usual.

Of course, Leo, who still didn’t know what Summer was usually like, couldn’t detect anything odd in her intonation.

"Okay, I’ll leave right away." Leo, a bit dazed, accepted Summer’s second "ejection order" of the day, almost forgetting how to start the car.

This was very unlike the Nation’s Gentleman.

Summer bypassed the car’s front, walked to the Brabus’s passenger side, opened the large G’s door, and sat in proficiently.

Leo was momentarily taken aback seeing Summer seated in the passenger seat.

Luckily, he had just forgotten how to start the engine; otherwise, he might have accidentally dragged Summer away.

He had trespassed into things Summer didn’t want anyone to know, sitting outside "recklessly" for hours after Summer issued the first ejection order.

Now that the truth was evident and explanations uncertain, Summer entered his car.

"Not leaving?" Summer buckled her seatbelt and looked at Leo, who showed no intention of starting the car.

"Leaving, leaving; what about your car?" Leo, who finally reacted, pointed to Summer’s Snake King Pickup.

"Leave it."

"Alright. Then are we going back to Artie’s place?" Finally back to normal, Leo clicked on the historical records in the car’s navigation.

"I’ll direct." Summer remained concise.

Leo cooperatively ceased using the navigation system.

Leo wouldn’t be considered directionally challenged; he had a general sense of the route from Artie’s to the old castle, having traveled it twice.

He simply maintained the habit of using navigation in unfamiliar cities.

Summer adeptly began playing music.

She played light music infused with natural sounds, quite unfitting for Summer’s style.

Bird chirps, flowing water, piano notes.

Serene and soothing.

This began to dissolve the somewhat awkward atmosphere in the car, turning it harmonious.

Summer didn’t sleep, nor speak; only at crucial intersections did she say direction phrases like "left" or "right."

The window shut out the outside wind but not the engine’s roar.

The sudden rain caught Summer’s attention.

Summer opened the window, catching raindrops with her hand, then brought her hand back inside to observe, as if the rain, like large snowflakes, could reveal patterns and angles when looked at swiftly.

Soon, Summer began to be dissatisfied with the rain’s angles, extending her head partially outside, joining her hand in welcoming the wind and rain’s baptism.

Leo slowed the car: "Be careful."

With the speed decreased, the fierce wind and rain instantly thwarted Summer’s interest in "experiencing the elements."

She closed the window as if she never opened it.

An inexplicable sense of loss suddenly settled in Leo’s heart.

This feeling accompanied Leo all the way to Artie’s vacation house on Islay.

Inside the vacation house, a chaotic kitchen battle was unfolding.

The Winters Ambassador, claiming to take personal care of Master Sean Lowell, broke several plates one after another.

Gordo asked with extreme disdain, "Is there anything you can do right?"

"Are you preparing lunch?" Leo expressed his confusion with his usual gentlemanly smile.

"Lunch? I’ve not even had breakfast yet, what lunch?" Gordon Sterling’s tone was somewhat hostile.

A hungry stomach makes a 340-pound man irritable; anything else would be strange.

Artie monopolized the kitchen, constantly cooking, constantly breaking things.

Gordon underwent several cycles from having temper, losing it, and having it again.