She had steaks and chicken and even some seafood. She made the salad and Beau went to work on the meats. Trey—bas believe yous ” K0ically illiterate in the kitchen—sat with Richard and Kate at the breakfast bar and drank a beer. The other two sipped the bottle of wine Richard had brought over with him. “Do you swear this didn’t come from Wick’s cellar?” Kate asked, swirling the liquid in her glass. “Because Kylie bought some of my favorite Pinot Noir and I’d rather drink that if Wick’s touched this one.” “Oh for crying out loud,” Richard said, rolling his eyes. “He’s not going to poison you. He doesn’t care enough about you for that.” Beau looked up, amused. Kate was frowning—just as he figured she would be. “I thought we weren’t supposed to say Wick in front of you ever again,” Trey reminded her and received a middle finger in response. “What is Wick short for anyway?” Kylie asked. “I mean it is a nickname, isn’t it?” “It’s his real name,”
