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settled back in his chair. “Jo’ Mama’s is a backwoods-style rib joint. Southern barbecue. Picnic tables, checkered tablecloths, mugs for beer.”
    “Sounds like a winner,” Amber said. “Everyone loves barbecue.”
    Another food that Amber loved but needed to limit, Lexi thought.
    Brad must have detected the concern on her face. “We offer plenty of healthy choices at all my restaurants.” He pointed to the oversize menus in front of them. “The hearts in front of a selection mean it has less fat and sugar.”
    “You’d be surprised how much sugar is hidden in food,” Amber said.
    This insight was a direct result of the nutrition classes she had taken after she’d been diagnosed with diabetes. Sugar was in an amazing number of foods—especially prepared foods in the grocery store.
    “You two into healthy eating?” Brad asked.
    Lexi waited for Amber to answer. Sometimes she felt uncomfortable discussing her diabetes.
    “I always watch what I eat. I have diabetes.”
    “Interesting.” He grunted the word, obviously not knowing how to respond. Lexi waited for his captivating smile, but it didn’t come.
    “ Interesting is a word people use when they don’t have a clue what to say,” Amber responded.
    As usual, Amber’s thoughts moved directly from her brain to her mouth. But to give her sister credit, Lexi thought, she accepted her diabetes even though she sometimes ignored the food restrictions.
    Uncertainty shadowed Brad’s eyes. “Actually, I was thinking that’s a lot to have to deal with at such a young age.”
    “You learn to handle it. That’s why I’m going to win your contest. I want to create a dessert even diabetics can eat.”
    “I know the feeling,” Brad said, his expression intent. “When I was your age, I was overweight. Obese, probably, but we didn’t say that back then.”
    Lexi couldn’t believe this buff guy had ever been overweight, but the earnestness in his voice said he was telling the truth.
    “Did the kids tease you?” Lexi asked.
    “All the time,” he admitted.
    “I get teased about having to take insulin,” Amber said in a sharp tone. “I just ignore them.”
    “That’s what I did. I developed my own interests.”
    “Cooking?” Lexi asked.
    Brad shook his head. “No. Like I told the class when I did the demo, I didn’t get interested in cooking until I was put on mess duty in the service. I was interested in stamp collecting. My grandfather had left me a dozen boxes of loose stamps that he’d purchased but had never sorted and put into collector’s books.”
    “Fascinating,” Lexi said, and she meant it.
    Brad focused his blue eyes on her with a penetrating gaze. “After I went into the service, discovered my interest in cooking and lost the flab, I sold the stamp collection to finance my first restaurant.”
    Wow, Lexi thought. Brad had a depth to him that she hadn’t suspected. It gave her new respect for him and his accomplishments. The information also made him seem more accessible somehow. He wasn’t as perfect as she’d imagined.
    “Let’s order,” said Brad. “While we’re waiting for our meals, I’ll show you around the kitchen.” He signaled to the waitress and she approached with a practiced smile to tell them the specials.
    “We’re featuring an awesome red wave lettuce salad. That’s a really unusual but yummy Asian lettuce that’s in limited supply. We serve it with grilled chicken on top.”
    The server rattled off a few more specials. Lexi and Amber went for the special, but Brad ordered a grilled-vegetable salad.
    “What?” cried Amber. “You’re not having the red wave salad you created?”
    Brad winked at her. “Nope. Coming up with a new dish means lots of combinations, lots of tasting. I’ve had more than my share of the special. Let’s see what you two think.”
    “What if we don’t like it?” Amber asked.
    Brad shrugged. “Be honest. Let me know. I haven’t been serving it that long. I’m still