WHO ELSE IS HAVING A BBQ THIS WEEKEND???
“I’m going to start dinner. I thought it would be a nice change for the Graye Manorites to experience a good old-fashioned grill with my homemade barbeque sauce.”
“Now that sounds divine. Can I help?”
Rob eyed Dorian. “How are you in the kitchen.”
“Adequate, at most.”
“Don’t let him fool you. That man knows how to chop vegetables like a pro. Unlike me, he also knows how to boil water.”
“I never thought you were the domestic type, D.”
“Life’s circumstances often force you to learn things you’d otherwise dismiss.”
“What do you mean?”
“He learned how to cook when he was a boy. Elias and I spent years puking in the backyard after trying one of his made-up recipes.”
“They weren’t that bad, Meredith.”
“Wanna bet? It took two rounds of heavy food poisoning before you realized that you don’t leave a chicken to marinate on the kitchen counter for twenty-four hours.”
Dr. Paige snorted his drink. “He didn’t!”
“The stories I could tell you…”
“Gentlemen? Let’s get out of here. I seem to be the target for her mouth today.”
“You can always make my mouth a target, darling.”
“What the hell happened here?” he asked. Dorian and Rob were covered in charcoal dust while Dr. Paige stood to the side wearing a red apron.
“Ask him,” Rob said, thumbing at Dorian.
“It wasn’t my fault. The bag came undone.”
“This bag?” Krissy asked, holding up the article. “It’s only open on one end.”</em
“See! Chicken story!” Rob said.
“It’s my house.”
“I guess you didn’t miss me since you had each other to play with. I’ll help pick up this mess while you tell me the chicken story. Krissy? Would you go inside and grab me a beer, please?”
“Sure. Kiss. I’d kiss both of you, but you’re positively filthy.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Dorian grumbled.
“Get this, Bry. When they were kids, Dorian was learning to cook…”
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4. Lily Harlem