Chapter 8

“Okay,” he announced, “you can go sit at the table.”

He’d set the bottle of white wine he had opened earlier on the table and he watched as Chris refilled his glass and then sat in one of the two chairs at the small wooden dining table.

Ryan dressed each plate with a twig of rosemary and some parsley and then framed them with a thin line of sauce. He brought them to the table. “You know it just occurred to me I am not even positive you like fish. I just assumed since you own a fish restaurant.”

Chris laughed. “I love fish.”

“Whew, thank God. Okay, I have local caught opah paired with mushroom parmesan risotto and grilled asparagus spears.”

“Yum.” Chris eyed the plate Ryan placed in front of him. “It looks and smells fantastic. I should hire you as my chef.”

“Ha ha.” But Ryan grabbed his own wine to hide the fact he was actually pleased Chris seemed impressed. He watched and waited for Chris to take his first bite.

“Oh, my God. This so damn good.”