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kettle running on charcoal. Dan was an old-fashioned guy. Sprocket came up from where he’d been lounging in the yard and settled at my feet, most likely hoping I’d slip up and drop one of the T-bones. With Sprocket around, there was no five-second rule. Whatever got dropped got eaten before it ever had a chance to hit the ground, much less languish there for an entire five seconds.
    â€œHow’s it going?” Garrett came over to stand next to me as I inspected Dan’s handiwork. I nodded. I’d taught Dan well. There was melted butter ready to go.
    â€œI’ve been better.” I liked Garrett. Really, I did. He just somehow also made me nervous. As usual, he looked like he’d come straight from his law office, which he probably had. He was wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt. His tie was gone, the shirt’s top two buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up, but he still looked pretty corporate.
    I never looked corporate. Even when I tried to look corporate I looked like I had emerged from a tornado. My hair never stayed in place. My shirts never stayed tucked in. My skirts always wrinkled. One of the fabulous things about opening POPS was that I didn’t have to try to look corporate or even kitchen corporate. No suits. No toque blanche. I was a blue-jeans girl every day of the week now.
    Garrett leaned against the railing of the deck, arms crossed with a longneck bottle dangling from between his fingers. He was tall and lanky and loose-limbed and looked like he was born to stand exactly like that. Well, maybe not in the lawyer clothes. “You look like you were caught out in the rain.”
    I looked down at my damp jeans and peasant shirt. “Hurricane Evan,” I confirmed.
    He reached into the cooler that sat near the railing, pulled out a beer and offered it to me. “I hear you had a rough day.”
    I took the beer and nodded. “You heard right.”
    â€œI’m really sorry. Dan says you and Coco were close.” He retreated back to the railing.
    I nodded and gave the steak at the edge of the flame a little touch with my forefinger and then touched my chin. I flipped them over.
    â€œWhat did you just do?” Garrett stared at me, brows slightly furrowed.
    I thought through my last few actions, not sure at first what he was talking about. “Face tested the meat. Why?”
    â€œYou what?”
    â€œFace tested it.” I explained. “If you touch it and it feels like your cheek, it’s rare. If it feels like your chin, it’s medium. If it’s like your forehead, it’s well done. Haley and Dan like their steaks medium. When the steaks feel like my chin, it’s time to flip them.”
    He shook his head. “You’re a strange woman, Rebecca.”
    â€œPerhaps, but I grill a great steak.” I shut the lid and consulted my watch. “Could you tell Haley the steaks will be ready in four minutes?”
    â€œNot three or five?” He laughed and took a long swallow of his beer.
    I didn’t laugh. Instead I took a long swallow of my own beer and looked at my watch again. “Now it’s three minutes, thirty seconds.”
    â€œSeriously?” he asked.
    â€œThree minutes and twenty-five seconds,” I replied.
    He set his beer down and held his hands up. “Fine. I’m going. I’m going.”
    â€œThree minutes and twenty seconds,” I called after him as he went into the kitchen.
    I poured some of the melted butter onto the serving platter and took another swig of beer. At the appointed moment, I took the steaks off the grill, brushed both sides with butter and went into the house, Sprocket at my heels, hoping against hope that those steaks would slide off the platter.
    Haley had everything on the table ready to go. I set down the platter and everyone helped themselves.
    Garrett took a bite of his steak and made a moaning noise. “So this is what they teach you