“But I knooow…” Jo singsongs. “You’ve got a date with Wyatt!”
I make a face. There’s no hiding it. Not that I could anyway.
“You have to tell me everything.” She cackles like a witch.
Hilary leans closer. “I thought you were setting him up with an heiress.”
“It didn’t work out,” I say. “And he really needs to be paired up. We’re low on time, and I decided to step up because I’m professional like that.”
“It’s the kid,” Jo says to Hilary. “I knew it when I saw the girl. Kim can never resist being nice to a child, especially when she comes from a broken home.”
“It isn’t like that,” I say, not caring for the broken home. Being away from a parent who doesn’t want you doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something wrong with your home life. “I like Vi a lot. It has nothing to do with her background.”
“I need pictures of these people,” Hilary says.
“There are none,” I say.
At the same time, Jo says, “Kim can take some tonight. He’s her neighbor, after all.”
“Uh, no. That would be creepy. I’m not going to stalk him,” I say, then finish my drink. “Anyway, I gotta go and walk Champ.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Hilary hands me a thermos.
“What’s this?”
“Mark’s attempt at a pork chop. André told him not even a dog would eat it, and he wants me to give it to you for Champ. He wants to see if Champ will eat it or not. It’s all cut up, too.”
A porkchop in a thermos. “Why is he making pork chops?” I ask. If Hilary’s husband wants pork chops, he can just drop by one of his fancy restaurants and ask one of his superbly trained chefs.
“Because he wants to impress me on my birthday.”
Now Jo looks even more befuddled. “Your birthday was, like, five weeks ago.”
Hilary’s smile is resigned. “Next year. Apparently, Dane told him nothing shows a woman how much her husband loves her like a home-cooked meal. He already made pot roast for Sophia, which she said was very good. It was surreal how he kept bragging about it.”
“Were you high? Or drunk? You could’ve imagined it,” Jo says.
“One hundred percent sober.” Hilary raises a hand, the other one over her heart. “Not a drop of alcohol.”
I shake my head. I just can’t picture that human icicle doing that. Ever. He’d melt near a stove. Besides, if all men believed Dane’s theory, restaurants would be out of luck on Valentine’s Day.
But I take the thermos and head home. At least Champ will have something other than kibbles. Mark uses the best cut of everything, so the meat is going to be great. I just hope the taste doesn’t kill the poor dog. Mark has many talents, but cooking isn’t one of them.
Once I’m home, I walk Champ, then, with some trepidation, serve him the pork chop. He sniffs it first. God. Not even Champ trusts Mark’s cooking. Then he takes a piece into his mouth and gobbles it down.
I watch anxiously to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Maybe I should’ve sampled it first. I feel like serving Mark’s food might qualify as animal abuse.
Champ, however, takes another bite. Hmm. Maybe it is okay.
The intercom buzzes, and I glance at the clock. Almost eight.
“Yes?” I say into the speaker.
“Hi. My name is Hugo Martinez. I’m Josephine’s cousin?”
Oh, right. Totally spaced that. I buzz him in.
Champ’s at the door before Hugo knocks. I open it and almost blink. Jo never said her cousin was this hot. Dark bedroom eyes, longish hair that brushes his collar, flashing, straight white teeth and a cute dimple on his smiling face. His body is just as gorgeous—long, lean lines and strong muscles underneath a T-shirt and jeans. Didn’t she say he could go all night, a la the Energizer Bunny?