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chef. Her classic recipes using basic things like dairy were as popular now as they were twenty years ago.
    He exhaled a breath of smoke. “It is a fad. What people really want are delicacies, things they can’t make at home. That’s what I do.” It’s what he loved to do.
    “I know, Nick. And you’re damn good at it.”
    He grunted at the compliment. “That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t bow to trends. Not in Los Angeles, and definitely not here.”
    “Anyway,” Sherry said. “So, back to your boss.”
    “Phoebe?”
    “Yes. Phoebe. So she’s an organic farmer who knows nothing about running a restaurant and is driving you crazy.”
    “Pretty much.” He poured another few ounces of tequila into his glass.
    “Is she cute?”
    “What? Why?” He shifted in his chair. “And no .” But even as he said the word, he could envision her green eyes and imagine the way her nose crinkled up when she was annoyed with him. And he longed to bury his nose in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. Honey. She smelled like honey.
    “No,” he repeated. “She’s not cute at all.”
    He could practically hear Sherry shrug. “You just have a funny tone in your voice when you talk about her.”
    “That tone you hear is my infinite irritation at being stuck in a place I hate, working for a woman who has no palate whatsoever, and spending way too much time sitting on my front porch when I should be out getting laid.”
    Sherry ignored his tirade. “So. She’s an organic farmer.”
    “Yes.” Shifting, he took another deep drag of smoke.
    “That would explain why she isn’t exactly an expert in the field. She’s been concentrating on other things. What’s the name of her business? Maybe I’ve heard of it.” Sherry specialized in organic California wine and was the lead distributor in Southern California.
    “I have no idea,” Nick said.
    “Well, find out.”
    Nick grunted. “Why does it matter?”
    “Because you’re going to be working with her for the next eleven months. You may as well at least try to make the best of things. Why don’t you think of it as a learning opportunity?”
    “I already know how to cook vegetables.”
    “Maybe this is your chance to get back to basics, to relearn your craft.”
    He clenched his hand around his tequila glass. “I don’t need to relearn my fucking craft, Sherry. I’m the best at what I do.”
    “Don’t get your panties in a wad, hon. I’m just suggesting that maybe…”
    “Maybe what?”
    “Maybe this will be good for you.”
    “Maybe this will kill me.”
    “Nick. You know I love you.”
    “Right.”
    “And, as your friend, I have to tell you, I think you were on a dangerous path back here in L.A.”
    “What are you talking about? I was at the top of my game!”
    “But it’s not healthy. Drinking all night, smoking a pack a day. Having sex with a different girl every night.”
    “Not every night,” he mumbled. “And I was always careful.”
    “I know. But despite all the fun you were having, you didn’t seem happy. At least not to me.”
    “Well, you were wrong.” She couldn’t be more wrong. “And this is supposed to make me happy? Living in the middle of some forest, listening to crickets? Spending my time creating a hundred and one ways to make broccoli?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You’re full of shit.”
    “That’s not true. I just had a colonic. See? I truly am an L.A. girl at heart.”
    He laughed at her change of subject. She really was a good friend to worry about him, even if her concern was misplaced.
    “Listen, Nick. Just try to relax. Attempt to make the best of the experience. If you still hate it in a year, you can come back.”
    “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
    “Good. Because I actually miss your sorry ass.”
    Nick smiled. “Back atcha, buttercup.”
    He hung up the phone, took a final drag from his cigarette, and leaned back in the swing. A breeze blew through the redwoods in a whooshing sound, and