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you’d rather,” Stuart said, correctly interpreting her expression. “Go eat by the river.”
    Patience shook her head. “No. Here will be fine.” A picnic by the river sounded too nice, and, frankly, the situation was strange enough without the atmosphere feeling like a date.
    This kinder, gentler Stuart made her nervous. They weren’t friends—not by a long shot—and she wasn’t really sure she bought his apology excuse. So why were they out to dinner together?
    After placing their orders, they took seats in a booth toward the rear of the restaurant. One of the cleaner tables, if that was saying anything. Immediately, Patience took out a package of hand wipes and began cleaning the crumbs from the surface, earning a chuckle from Stuart.
    “You do realize you’re off the clock, right?” he asked.
    “You want to eat on a dirty table?” she shot back. She was beginning to dislike his laugh. Rich and thick, the sound slipped down her spine like warm chocolate syrup, making her insides quiver every time she heard it. Doubling down on her cleaning efforts, she did her best to wash both the crumbs and the sensation away. “I don’t even want to think about what the kitchen looks like,” she continued.
    There was a splash of dried cola near the napkin dispenser. She went at it with vigor. “Piper would have a nutty if she saw this place.”
    “Who’s Piper?”
    Drat. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud. This really was a mistake. Not five minutes in and she’d opened the door to personal questions. Fortunately, Piper was the one personal subject she could talk about forever. “She’s my sister.”
    “Let me guess, she’s into cleaning, too?”
    “No, cooking.” Her chest grew full. “She’s studying to be a chef. In Paris.” She made a point of emphasizing the location.
    “Is that so?”
    Based on the spark in Stuart’s eye, Patience decided it was admiration and not disbelief coloring his voice, and her pride expanded some more. “She was accepted last fall. It’s always been her dream to become a famous chef.”
    “You must be proud.”
    “Proud doesn’t begin to cover it. I think she’s going to be the next Top Chef, she’s that talented. Ever since she was a kid, she had a knack for taking ingredients you’d never thought would go together and turning them into something delicious. Once, I came home and found her making jalapeño pancakes.”
    “Were they any good?”
    “Believe it or not, they were. Alhough she got flour everywhere. Took me all night to clean the film from the countertop.” A waste of time since the roaches came scrounging anyway. The thought only made her smile fade a little. As always, her pride in Piper’s talent overruled the bad.
    Their conversation was interrupted by a group of college students settling into the booth behind them. Their laughter barely disguised the popping of beer cans.
    “I forgot this place was BYOB,” Stuart remarked. “We could have brought a bottle of Merlot to go with our meal.”
    “I’m not sure this is a Merlot kind of place,” Patience replied.
    “Good point. Beer then.”
    She tried and failed to stop her grimace.
    “You don’t like beer?”
    “I don’t like the smell.” He wouldn’t either if he’d spent years breathing sour, stale air.
    Stuart was clearly curious, but thankfully he didn’t push. At least not right then. Instead, he stretched his arms along the back of the booth, the position pulling his shirt taut across his torso and emphasizing the contours beneath the cotton. Patience wondered if he realized he was the most superior-looking man in the place.
    “So, your sister’s dream is to become a famous chef,” he said. “What’s yours?”
    To make sure Piper’s dream came true.
Patience busied herself with pulling napkins from the dispenser. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Oh, come on. Surely you didn’t always want to be a housekeeper?”
    He was fishing. Looking for clues about this