Page 64 of A Much Younger Man
“Yasha’s the pastry chef. He’s tremendously talented. St. Nacho’s is very lucky to have him.”
“So, it’s pie night, but you got chocolate mousse. Doesn’t that ruin the spirit of the thing?”
“No, because I got cottage pie.”
“What even iscottage pie?”
“It’s like shepherd’s pie, only beef.”
“I thought shepherd’s piewasbeef. That’s how my mom always made it.”
“That’s a common misconception. Shepherd’s pie is made with mutton. That’s why it’s called shepherd’s pie.”
“That’s…weird.” He turned to me. “Aren’t shepherds there to keep sheep safe?”
“Ever heard of a cowboy steak?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I thought those were made fromcowboys.”
“Ha, ha.” I turned down my street and immediately noticed there was already a car in my driveway. “Oh bother. I really hope that’s not what I think it is.”
“What?”
“God, I am so tired.” The man sitting in one of the wicker chairs on my front porch looked suspiciously like Dylan Kendall. What little I remembered of him. “And I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for my meddlesome mother.”
“What’s happening right now?” Beck asked warily.
“Oh my God. You don’t want to know.” No wonder my mother called me at the office today instead of waiting until morning. She knew Dylan was coming. Wait until I talked to her next.
Andof courseI was with last night’s hookup, planning some kind of living room picnic.
This was all my fault for deviating from my self-imposed rules, which were there for a reason, goddamnit. A good reason. The best reason. It was so I would never put that look of disappointment on anyone’s face ever again.
“Look, I’m really sorry about this. I think I need to ask for a rain check again. You can take the food.”
“So, I guess you have a date? No big deal.”
“It’s not a date. My mother—”
“It’s okay for you to have plans, Doc. I know old people are forgetful.” Was he teasing me?”
“I didn’t have plans. I had no idea this was happening.”
“Oh my God. Don’t have a cow. You know this is why people my age don’t date, right?” Beck unlatched the door and stepped out. Callie squeezed between the front seats and jumped down to join him. “Whatever this is, it’s not my circus.”
I picked up the Café Bêtise bag. “Beck, here. At least take—”
“No, you need your food. You have company.” He made a circling motion that encompassed me, the food, and the man on the porch. That little shit. He wasenjoyingthis. “It’s okay, Doc, but this is all you. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”
He blew me a kiss, closed the door behind him, and strode away with Callie at his heels.
“Shit.” I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel for a while.
Instead, I stepped out and dragged the bag of food to the porch.
“Sorry.” Dylan’s confusion had turned to irritation as he watched Beck and Callie saunter up the street. “Did I interrupt something?”
“My guitar lesson,” I lied. “Mom didn’t know.”
This mollified him. “Your mother’s such a peach. I couldn’t believe it when she told me you moved here. She said it was a midlife crisis.”
“No, I think that only started recently.”How long before I can throw you out and go to bed?
Because I could not wait to do just that.
