8 Chapter 8

Bryce had told him he was full of shit and Dean would come through because a guy didn’t spend forty-five minutes just talking over coffee if he wasn’t genuinely interested. And Bryce had been right. Bryce had been right about all of it.

Which was why Bryce was going to help him make sure this date went off without a hitch.

The doorbell rang just as he turned the flame off on the fish. Wiping his hands on a towel, Charlie emerged from the kitchen, his shirt sticking to his shoulders from the heat. He made a note to himself to wear something lighter the night of the real date. Something he wouldn’t sweat like a pig in.

“I hope that recipe worked out, because I am starving,” Bryce greeted, as soon as Charlie opened the door. “Like, I could eat my own arm, starving.”

“It looks like it all worked out.” Charlie waved him toward the dining room. “Go sit, and I’ll dish it up.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He was in too much of a hurry to see if the food tasted as good as it smelled.

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