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“So, was she all that, like you thought she’d be, or a big disappointment?” Talon asks quietly.

Sighing, I admit, “The woman knew her stuff. There were twelve of us and she paid attention and made individual time for all of us. She was professional but polite and real respectful too.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I just keep talking because it’s my best friend and he’s not gonna quit pestering me until I tell him everything there is to know.

“That never bothered you before, Sabre. You always said it was better to travel light, stick to finger food and stay away from romantic entanglements.”

“Yeah, none of that has changed. It’s just that she invited me to her next class.”

“Let me guess, it’s another eighty bucks, right?”

“Yeah, but the money ain’t the problem. The next class is on filleting and searing fish.”

“This lady who was so nice and respectful is gonna be teaching a class on your personal fuckin’ obsession. A team of wild horses couldn’t drag you away from that class. Am I right?”

I can’t help the smile that eats up my face. “You know me pretty fuckin’ well, brother.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and call this one right out of the gate,” he says. “You are gonna end up falling hard and fast for this lady chef, brother. I can already see the writin’ on the wall.”

“Don’t be absurd, Talon. Filleting and skinning seafood isn’t exactly an obsession but it’s kind of my thing. It would be a shame not to go.”

We both know I’m lying about it not being an obsession, but he lets that part slide.

“Brother, you just met your match and don’t even know it.”

I’d like to say he’s just teasing me, but my best friend sounds dead serious.

“I just want to see if I can pick up more tips, like I did tonight.” My voice is so sincere that I almost convince myself of the little white lie.

“You smiled when you said her name,” Rick interjects, while dumping a bunch of beer bottles onto ice.

I point the tongs at him. “Don’t act like you know me, prospect.”

He shrugs. “I’m just sayin’ what I saw.”

“I didn’t say her name.”

“Yes, you did,” Talon counters blandly, “a couple of times in fact.”

Damn, he’s right. “It’s about the fillet work,” I insist.

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s a good teacher.”

“Uh-huh. Lie to yourself if you have to. I know better.”

“I hope your beer’s flat,” I grumble.

The brothers swarm the grill like locusts. I enjoy watching them gobble up my tidbits. I eat some myself, comparing the taste and texture of my whiskey glaze to Linsey’s wine reduction. It ain’t fancy, but they’re both good. The cookout burns itself down slowly and the brothers drift inside or head home. Old ladies pack leftovers into containers. Levi and Evan police up the trash because prospects are always responsible for cleanup. I break down my station the way I do it every time, scraping the grill, washing my tools, and making sure everything is wiped down.

Then I sit on the back patio with my knife roll open and check the fillet knife. It doesn’t need anything. Still, I run it over the stone a few passes, wipe the blade down, and hold it up to the light looking for a flaw in the sharp edge. I’m happy to see my heirloom knife is nick-free.

I put it back in my roll and close it up. Then I head home to my place knowing the people I care about are well fed on my delicious food.

***

I step into a shower hot enough to fog up the whole bathroom. In the privacy of my own space is where I let my mind run free. I admit to myself all the things I would never divulge to Linsey or anyone else. Namely, that she makes my cock twitch something fierce. I’ve been shoving that to the back of my mind all night.