need to lay down.” She pointed to the thick blanket they’d folded to make a dog bed.
The dog yapped an impudent response. Raven turned to Jack. “It’s a good thing she’s almost cute now.”
Clearly, he needed to assert some authority. He deepened his voice. “Brilla. Go lay down.”
The pup’s ears flattened, and her head sank low. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Reluctantly, Brilla slunk over to her cushy fleece blanket and plopped down with a sigh.
“I almost feel bad now,” Raven said, covering her mouth, so she didn’t laugh.
“Don’t be. I want us to enjoy this dinner.” He pointed his fork at her plate.
Raven sliced into the chicken cutlet smothered in creamy mushroom sauce, then took a bite. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she chewed. “This is so good,” she said dreamily.
“It’s okay,” Jack said.
She cut a second piece. “It’s better than okay. It’s fantastic. How did you learn to cook like this?”
“It’s a meal kit.”
“Shut up!”
He laughed. “Seriously. There’s a bunch of them in the refrigerator. I’m a complete fraud.”
“How can you say that?”
“I don’t make up recipes. I get a box in the mail with ingredients and instructions. It’s paint-by-numbers with food.”
She shook her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. You put them together correctly. I’m sure there are plenty of people who screw up those instructions. And lots of idiots who leave out or add other ingredients that have no business being in the dish.”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“I do like it, though. Cooking for myself.” He dredged a piece of chicken through the creamy sauce, then took a bite.
“I usually get takeout. It’s so much easier. And no cleanup.” She sipped her wine.
“I did that a lot after my divorce. But after a while it felt kind of . . . I don’t know.”
He knew exactly how it felt. Sad. Lonely. Like he was a loser who’d gotten married for the wrong reasons. So he spent more nights than he cared to admit with vapid women who wanted him for his money, status, and body but didn’t give a shit about who he was, simply for the supposed pleasure of their company. He couldn’t say all that out loud to an almost stranger.
“How long ago was the divorce, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Jack took a drink of wine. “A little over three years. Feels like ancient history. Funny how something that was once so important isn’t anymore.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“How did someone like you avoid falling into the marriage trap?”
“It’s easier than you’d imagine.” She left so many words unspoken.
After an awkward beat, he drew a deep inhale. “Well, how did we get from meal kits to marriage?”
She chuckled. “I have no idea. But after eating this, I can definitely see the appeal of a home-cooked meal.”
“It’s especially nice after I’ve been on the road a lot for work.”
“What is it that you do?” Raven asked. “Lark said you’re a numbers and money guy. And something about being an efficiency expert.”
He chuckled. “It figures that’s what she heard. I work for Winthrop Financial Group.”
Raven sat back on her stool. “That’s a big company.” He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was impressed.
He nodded. “We’ve got lots of numbers and money.” But according to Beckett, it’d never be enough.
“What do you do there?” Raven asked.
“I’ve been there my whole career. I’ve worn a lot of hats.”
“Which hat do you wear now?”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Uh, currently, I assess companies’ values and make recommendations as to their outcomes.” That was close enough almost to be the truth. He didn’t want to discuss the ugly side of his work tonight.
“And you don’t like this job.” It wasn’t a question.
“What makes you say that?”
She raised her pointer finger to his face. “The little lines around your mouth. And the creased space between your eyes.”
“I have lines around my mouth?”
“And between your eyes. But only when you talk about your job. Which you apparently hate.”
“I didn’t say I hate it.” Was this woman in his head? Because he didn’t remember inviting her in.
Raven shrugged. “You haven’t said you love it.”
“Does anyone love their job?”
“I did. Maybe not every single aspect, but I really believed in what I was doing.” Genuine sadness settled on her face as she spun the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.
Fuck. It’d been years since he’d loved his job. Back then, he was working on a special project for WFG’s real estate arm rehabbing derelict buildings and selling them as affordable housing