Eric drew out his cell phone, grateful to have something to think about besides Victoria. “I’ll call the firehouse and have someone pick this one up and bring you a new one. I can’t have my favorite brewpub burning down.”
Okay, so it was the only brewpub. So what?
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”
After the pizzas had gone into the oven, they all pitched in to clean up so that the kitchen crew could finish their lunch prep, then sat together at a table near the bar, Eric doing his best to ignore feelings he couldn’t seem to control.
His empty stomach growled. “If that pizza tastes half as good as it smells, she’ll have outdone you, Rico.”
Whatever else you could say about Victoria, the woman could cook. It was clear to him that she hadn’t been following a recipe, but going from memory, even improvising at times, guided by taste alone.
Rico laughed. “I’m willing to concede defeat when I’m good and truly beaten. Where did you take cooking classes?”
Victoria shrugged. “I haven’t taken any classes. I really love to cook, so I watch a lot of cooking shows and read a lot of cookbooks.”
Rico’s brows shot up toward his bald dome. “You’ve got natural talent.”
“Talent? Ha. Right.” She brushed off his compliment. “How about you?”
“I got my associate degree in culinary arts while I was doing time.”
“Doing time? You mean in prison?” The question was casual, but Eric saw a flash of fear in her eyes.
She was thinking of that bastard Stewart and wondering what Rico had done.
Rico nodded. “Best thing that ever happened to me. It straightened my ass out and taught me a skill. When I got out, Joe gave me a job.”
“Must’ve been drunk,” Joe grumbled, his gaze on a printout of the restaurant’s staff schedule for the upcoming week.
Eric asked the question Victoria was too polite to ask, wanting her to feel at ease again. “What were you in for, Rico? Stealing cars or some shit?”
“Yeah. Stealing cars and selling the parts.”
Relief came over Victoria’s face. “Why did you decide to study cooking?”
“You ever taste prison food?” Rico asked.
Victoria shook her head. “That bad, huh?”
“You don’t even want to know.”
The little timer Rico had brought with him dinged. He turned it off, got to his feet, a wide grin on his face. “Here we go.”
He and Victoria disappeared into the kitchen, while Joe got up and walked to the bar, where he filled a pitcher with beer.
“Help me with these glasses?” he asked Eric and Taylor. “Unless you’d rather skip the beer.”
That had both of them on their feet.
“Free beer, and it’s not yet noon,” Taylor said. “It’s a good day.”
By the time Victoria and Rico returned with the sliced pizzas, the beer had been poured out and the table set with plates, forks, and napkins. Rico quickly served, lifting thick, cheesy slices onto plates, making sure that everyone who wanted a piece got one.
Joe cut a bite off his slice. “Now for the moment of truth.”
Everyone watched while he popped it into his mouth and chewed.
“Breathe, Victoria,” Eric said.