Chapter 3His kitchen smelled like Bourbon Street. Sipping at his water, Charlie lifted the lid on the frying pan one more time, and a fresh wave of Cajun spices rolled out with the steam. Almost done. And it looked practically perfect. The recipe Dean had given him had been simple in execution, complicated only in its ingredients and timing. Charlie was determined to get it exactly right.
Of course, he’d never completely believed Dean would actually email him with the promised recipes and the request for his address. Their conversation at the bookstore had been fun, but afterward, breaking it down with Bryce over dinner, Charlie had found reason after reason why Dean wouldn’t follow through. He was too young. Charlie was too old. Dean had wanted immediate gratification, not a prolonged wa
