“You’ll find out if you continue to see him,” Hannah warned.
“I suppose I will, because I’m having dinner with him on Sunday.”
Turning slowly, Hannah gave Tonya a long, penetrating stare. “You like him.” It was a statement.
Tonya narrowed her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Hannah. Gage and I are chefs, and that translates into sharing a passion for cooking. I asked him for his feedback for the menu for your Super Bowl party, and he was quite helpful.”
“Oh, shit!”
“What are you shitting about?” Tonya asked.
“I don’t know why I forget he’s also a chef, because it’s stuck in my head that he’s a professional musician.”
“All that means is he’s multitalented.”
“That and drop-dead gorgeous,” Hannah added, smiling.
“I never noticed,” Tonya replied, deadpan.
“That’s BS and you know it. Let’s eat, then I’ll show you pictures from the wedding.”
“I can’t wait to see them. By the way, where’s Smokey?”
“He’s probably sleeping on St. John’s desk. We won’t allow him in the kitchen, and don’t you dare mention anything about him sleeping on the bed, because I’ll lose it.”
Tonya chuckled under her breath. Hannah confided to her that the only thing she and her husband disagreed about was having the cat sleep at the foot of their bed; she told her friend if that’s all they had to argue about, then not only was she lucky but blessed to have had a second chance at love.
