I sighed. “Fine, Jordan will cook.”
Their doubtful looks didn’t disappear.
“He’s better in the kitchen than I am,” I continued.
“That wouldn’t be hard to do,” Yancy murmured beneath her breath.
“Hey!”
She shrugged and looked sheepish. “Sorry.”
“No, really. He’s a very good cook and he’s teaching me a few things.”
They all looked at each other in silence.
“Do you want to meet him or not?” I asked, annoyance seeping into my tone.
“When?” Grier asked.
“Saturday night. Seven o’clock.”
“We’ll be there,” Yancy responded.
“I’ll bring pizza money,” Chelsea offered.
I scowled at her.
“Just in case!” she exclaimed. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, you know.”
“I’ll bring wine,” Grier volunteered. “I have a feeling Jordan will need it.”
