“He’s the sous chef. But he’s been making a version of this since we were in high school.”
“He’s pretty much perfected them now,” Chloe said thoughtfully, as she bit into another one. “Which is irritating.”
“Why is that irritating?” Miles asked, and I had to fight a laugh at the way his eyes tracked the progress of each lemongrass taco to our mouths. I finally pitied him enough to push the plate his way and nod at it. He scooped one up lightning-quick, like he was worried I would change my mind and let his eyes drift half-closed as he chewed. “Simple. But maybe brilliant.”
“That’s why,” Chloe said. “Dylan is such an enormous pain in the a—”
“Hey,” I interjected. “I’m bound by blood to defend his honor.” I snaked another taco from the plate. “He and Chloe don’t get along.”
“Because he’s freaking annoying,” Chloe said.
Miles looked like he was struggling to keep his expression neutral. No doubt he agreed after his run in with Dylan at Miss Mary’s.
“Chloe still sees Dylan as the nineteen-year-old who crashed at our apartment one weekend in college and bugged her the whole time,” I explained.
“Because he still acts like a nineteen-year-old. But he can cook a dang taco.”
She sounded like she’d been forced to admit McDonald’s makes good fries, and I laughed. “He’ll be thrilled to hear that coming from you. Would you like one, Aaron?” It didn’t feel right to ignore him back.
“No thanks.” He didn’t even look up from his phone.
Miles gave me a look that was a combination of apology and embarrassment. Chloe rolled her eyes.
I didn’t care. I’d offered. I didn’t owe Aaron anything else.
The server returned with the beers, and Aaron looked up long enough to take a drink and grimace. Then it was right back to his phone.
Part of me wanted to know the story with Aaron, and why, as Miles’s business manager, he wasn’t more involved with the location search for the Turnaround. The bigger part of me was glad I hadn’t needed to deal with him so far.
Miles glanced around the restaurant, but unlike Aaron, his eyes lingering on the details. Redbird was done in rustic chic with cloth napkins and thick linen tablecloths beneath the glass tops. In higher end restaurants, they’d forgo the glass toppers, but for a casual dining spot, they were appropriate. These were things I’d learned from dining out with Chloe. Our family’s dining vibe had been more Miss Mary’s/Mom’s cooking/whatever Dylan made for us. Chloe had introduced me to finer dining so I wouldn’t feel like a fraud when I took out high-end clients.
“Isn’t your brother kind of young to be the sous chef here?” Miles asked.
“Yeah. He’s only twenty-five.” I couldn’t keep the pride out of my voice.
“I’m only twenty-five and you’re only twenty-six,” Chloe reminded me. “And we’re successful too.”
“But we’re not at the same level in our fields that Dylan is in his. You’d have to be a section editor and I’d have to be a lead agent,” I said.
“I’m not dealing with a lead agent?” Miles asked in mock horror. “I demand an upgrade.”
“Any time, buddy,” I said coolly.
“Kidding. Your lead agent didn’t understand me. You do.”
That warmed my heart more than I wanted it to. “To be honest, you’re kind of small fry. Maybe I’ll throw you back.”
“How about if I pay for dinner? Can I still be your client?” he asked.
“Dylan will comp the whole thing,” Chloe said. “You’ll have to try a different bribe.”
“Is there a way to eat my words instead?” Miles asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I told him. “That way I can keep holding them over you.”
Chloe held up her hand for a high five, which I gave her.
“Eat the last taco,” I said, nudging the plate further toward Miles.
“I mean, if I have to.” He was already reaching for it. “Looks like they do live music here sometimes?” He nodded toward a stage tucked into a corner, currently occupied by a grouping of live plants.
“Yeah. Small groups or solo acts. That’s why I invited you. What do you think of a layout like this?”
He studied the stage, then turned in his chair to take in the location of the kitchen, bar, and hostess stand. “This has the right amount of space. I’m ambitious, and I can fill it.” He grinned at me. “But I want to lay it out differently. Shotgun style, no wings, so you can watch the stage no