“God, no. Wait a minute.” I became suspicious. “This isn’t a blind date, is it?” I turned away fromthe pasta I was stirring to stare him down.
Chester held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Absolutely not! He just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and hungry. But if something happens between the two of you, even better.”
He gave me the smile I’d come to dread over the years, the one where he was about to spray paint his room an emergency vest orange, or shave Chewy, our recently deceased cat. He was up to something, I knewit. All of a sudden, dinner seemed ominous.
* * * *
“Hey, Mr. Neilson,” Dre greeted me as he came into the kitchen. My back was to him as I turned off the burner underneath the chicken and spicy peanut sauce. The pasta was already on the table.
“Hey, Dre. Give me just a second and you’ll have my full attention.” I transferred the sauce to a glass bowl in the middle of the table, next to the salad. Chester had set places for four people.