Gavin had added thinly sliced dill pickles and extra sauce on the plate. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Incredible.” Gavin winked at Celia. “You’re an incredible cook, Celia.” She’d created a roast pork dish, served with flavorful white rice, black beans, an avocado salad and mojo criollo—a potent garlic sauce. Nicholas speared a forkful of shredded pork that had fallen out of his roll. “While you two are wasting time engaging in a mutual admiration, I intend to get my eat on.” His eyes grew wider. “Damn, Gavin! You are good. How you would like to come and work for me at Cole-Thom Farms? I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Gavin swallowed a mouthful of black beans. “Doing what?” “You could take over as the farm’s chef.” “Sorry. I like my current job, and my cooking repertoire isn’t that versatile.” He’d liked working undercover for the Bureau because he liked being challenged, enjoyed taking risks. But, as he grew older, taking risks was no longer a priority.
