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best friends. Years ago, she’d been his wine distributor, and he’d taken her with him to every restaurant he worked at. He’d hit on her, of course. But she’d brushed him off, saying he was way too much of a bad boy for her.
    She was the only girl in L.A. who’d rejected him. Which was probably a good thing because she had turned out to be one of his only true friends. L.A. was good for many things: parties, women, and entertainment. Finding people a bloke could count on wasn’t on the list, but that was just fine with Nick. Early in life, he’d learned to count on only himself.
    He took another deep drag off his cigarette.
    “You should really quit those things.”
    “So you’ve said. Right around a million times.”
    “They’re bad for you.”
    “You’d fit in perfectly here, you know.”
    Sherry laughed. “Are you trying to say I’m some sort of a hippie?”
    “No. Well, you kinda are. I mean, with all your yoga and Pilates and those disgusting smoothies.”
    “That’s not being a hippie. That’s being health-conscious. You should try it.”
    “Not my style.” He downed the rest of his tequila.
    “Right. Partying all night and sleeping with starlets is more your thing.”
    “Not anymore. Sadly.”
    Sherry chuckled. “What? No hot, young, barely legal groupies up there?”
    “Hardly.” He thought of Phoebe, with her bright green eyes, frizzy brown hair, and attitude problem. “I think the most excitement I’m going to have anytime soon will involve my hand and an X-rated video.”
    “Aw, poor Nick. Reduced to living like a normal single man.”
    “Well, Sherry, I’m glad you think my situation is so amusing, because I sure as hell don’t.” He lit another cigarette.
    Her voice softened. “Is it really that bad?”
    “Yes.” He blew out a lungful of smoke. “It’s worse. You don’t understand. These people—most don’t eat meat. Quite a few are vegan .” He spit the word out as if it tasted bad. “I mean, what’s the point of living if you forgo luxuries such as cheese? The owner has no taste for anything new or different. And she’s bossy. She doesn’t listen to a thing I say. She’s always hovering over my shoulder, as if I don’t know what I’m doing.” He brought the cigarette back to his mouth. “Did I mention she’s bossy?”
    “She sounds just awful.” But he could tell Sherry was biting back a smile.
    “She is.” But Phoebe hadn’t looked awful earlier, when he’d been spooning caramelized bananas into her mouth. Her eyes had gone glassy, and her breathing had quickened. He’d found himself drawn to her luscious mouth, leaning toward her, as if he was going to touch his lips to hers—
    It was a damn good thing that she’d pushed him away.
    Wait? She’d pushed him away? That hadn’t happened since…Sherry.
    He shifted on the hard wooden porch swing. “She’s incredibly annoying. She has no idea what she’s doing.”
    “Well, didn’t she inherit the business?”
    “Yeah. From her aunt and uncle.”
    “Does she have another job?”
    Nick brought the cigarette to his lips. “I guess so. Some organic farming business. And that’s another thing. She always expects me to cook whatever random vegetables she brings me and make them into something amazing.”
    “And this is a challenge for you?”
    “Hell no. But I can only cook so much cabbage and carrots before I want to slice my hands off.”
    “Ah. Local cooking. It’s actually all the rage.”
    “Not where I come from.”
    “Nick?”
    “What?”
    “Don’t take this the wrong way, but regional cuisine is popular here as well. You just don’t know it because you’ve been so caught up in your own world.”
    The words stung. He hadn’t been caught up in his own world. He’d been a professional, a traditionalist. He wasn’t prone to fads and he liked himself more for it. Everyone else could sod off with their passing trends.
    To this day, Julia Child sold more cookbooks than any modern