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looked as if it had consumed its share of beer over the years. He finished off the look with an unbuttoned flannel shirt. His balding blond hair was combed over to one side.
    “What’s going on in here?” he asked, letting his eyes scan my entire body.
    “Not much, just prepping for dinner,” I replied, making sure to use my authoritative chef voice.
    “No wonder it’s so hot, you’re smokin’.” He winked and clicked his cheek.
    Great. Just what I needed. Sterling tried to stifle a laugh.
    “I’m Jules. I’ll be running the kitchen this weekend.” I pointed to Whitney. “I hear there’s some kind of problem with the alcohol.”
    Tony puffed out his chest. “Nope. No problem. I told the girl that I’d take care of her. I’m pretty good at taking care of the ladies, if you catch what I mean.”
    I caught Sterling’s eye. He puffed out his chest like Tony. He was enjoying this way too much.
    Whitney closed the cabinet doors. “So you have enough wine and beer in stock?”
    Tony helped himself to a slice of baguette. It couldn’t taste good since it had yet to be toasted. He ate it in one bite anyway. With his mouth full he said, “Yep. I’ve got a stocked bar, like I told you.”
    “But you said I’d have to pay double.” Whitney bit her thumb.
    “That’s right. It’s expensive to get booze delivered all the way up here. I’m going to have to charge you for the delivery fees.” He grabbed another slice of bread.
    It must be hard to get good help, I thought. Mercury hadn’t sounded thrilled about Tony when she spoke of him earlier. I wondered if she was seriously trying to find a new bartender. I couldn’t blame her.
    Tony gave Sterling a nod. “Cool tats.”
    Sterling glanced at his forearms. He had pushed up his sleeves, revealing tattoos that covered his skin. “Thanks.”
    Tony pulled back the neck of his T-shirt. “I’ve got one right here.” He showed off a tattoo of a hunter holding up a dead deer on his chest.
    Wow. Sexy.
    Sterling didn’t respond. Whitney grimaced.
    “Man, this one really hurt.” Tony massaged the tattoo. He held my gaze. “I won’t show you where my other tat is. I’ll save that for later.”
    “Please don’t.” I picked up a spatula and unwrapped cubes of butter. I wanted Tony out of my kitchen. If he didn’t get the message soon, I’d have to kick him out.
    Surprisingly, he took the hint. “I’ve got to get the bar ready for action, but don’t you worry, I’ll be right up front if you need me.” He turned to Whitney. “You wanna come see what I’ve got in store for you?”
    She tucked her tablet under her arm and followed him toward the dining hall. I felt sorry for her.
    “Do you think we should go help her?” I asked Sterling once they were out of earshot.
    He pulled his hoodie from his chest. “Want to see my tats?” He winked.
    I flung the dishtowel at him. “Stop.”
    “Now that is something you don’t see every day in Northern Cal,” he said, catching the towel. “Talk about redneck.”
    “Welcome to Southern Oregon.”
    He shuddered. “You know, everyone said that Southern Oregon had a big redneck population, but I guess I’ve just never seen it in Ashland.”
    “Yeah, we’re kind of in a bubble.”
    “I guess.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “You want me to go check on her?”
    “He’s probably harmless, but yeah, why don’t you.”
    “These are ready to go.” He pointed to beautifully assembled chicken roasts.
    “I’ll stick them in,” I promised as he went to check on Whitney.
    A blast of hot air hit my face, as I opened the metal doors on the front of the oven. Heat radiated from the bricks. I couldn’t wait to taste the end result of slow-cooking the chicken over apple wood. I pulled on a pair of oven mitts and carefully slid each roast into the oven. They should infuse with the flavor of the smoldering wood as they baked. Sterling and I would need to keep close watch on them. I hadn’t baked in a brick