Page 19 of The Merry Matchmaker

“So, Brock, where did you move here from?” asked Stef.

“California,” he said.

“That’s where my ex was from,” Stef said. “I sure got Californicated.”

Seriously?thought Frankie, and frowned at her. “Everyone moves here from California. I just wish you all would bring us more of that sun in the winter.”

“I wouldn’t mind that myself,” Brock said.

“Anyway, we’re glad you’re here. I’m sure Mitch is, too,” Frankie said.

“I hope he’s not ready to fire me yet,” joked Brock.

“You’re too good to fire,” said Mitch. Then he’d clearly had enough of talking about Brock. “How are those pasties coming?”

Oh yes, them. Frankie took the sheet of little meat pies out of the oven. Piping hot and golden brown. Perfect.

“I guess we’re ready to eat,” she said.

“Those look amazing,” said Brock.

“They are,” said Frankie. “They’re a lot of work, but they’re worth it. Just make sure you save room for dessert. We have peppermint pie. Have you got a sweet tooth, Brock?”

“Oh yeah, I like sweet things,” he said, and grinned at Frankie, raising his glass to her.

Stef frowned.

So did Mitch.

This was becoming...awkward. Frankie put the meat pies on a platter and handed it to Stef. “Let’s get these pasties on the table before they get cold. Brock, sit down and make yourself at home,” she said to him as Stef took their main course to the table. “And, Elinor, how about you take out our drinks?” Frankie suggested, and Elinor followed the others to the table with her sparkling cider.

That left Mitch. She handed him the bowl of salad. “Let’s eat.”

“What’s he doing bringing you flowers?” Mitch demanded in a low voice.

“Being a good guest. Like you.”

“I guess,” said Mitch.

Dinner did not go as planned. Elinor’s sparkling cider was ignored in favor of another round of sidecars, followed by the wine Mitch had brought, and she gave up asking if anyone would like some. Stef threw a couple of flirty compliments to Brock, which he acknowledged politely without throwing anything back. He raved over Frankie’s pasties but merely pronounced Stef’s salad good. After being prompted by Frankie.

Mitch, at least, was more enthusiastic. “I’ll have some more of that salad,” he said, and helped himself to a second serving. “What are these red seeds, Stef?”

“Pomegranate,” she said.

“Well, they give it a nice kick,” he told her, which brought out a smile.

“More salad, Brock?” Frankie prompted.

“No, that’s okay,” he said.

Mitch forked up a bite. “You know what Popeye said. ‘Strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach.’”

“I’m already strong. I bet I could take down Popeye,” joked Brock.

“I bet you could,” Frankie said. The man looked like he could push over a brick wall with his pinky finger.

She’d said it unthinkingly but realized the minute the words were out of her mouth that it sounded like flattery. Brock appeared pleased. Mitch didn’t.

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