J. T. set the covered dish in front of Jordan and lifted the lid before picking up her empty salad dish.Jordan stared at the food. It definitely wasn’t red meat, but it didn’t look like chicken, either. Two slices resembled the dark meat of turkey, drizzled with reddish black syrup that oozed over the sides. Completing the entrée were two small blobs the same color as the syrup, decorated with red berries. They reminded her of the type growing on the hedges in front of her house in West Texas, the ones her mother had always warned were poisonous.She gulped. “What exactly is this, J. T.?” She glanced up, hoping he didn’t see through the fake smile and quivering lips.He squinted. “It’s a delicacy imported from a small town in Canada. I hear it’s fabulous.” He stared at the plate, hedging. “Let me know how you like it. I may have to break down and try it myself one of these days.”“Can you bring some bread?” she asked, resigning herself to an all-out carb fest. Thank heavens she’d at least had the salad.As she waited for J.
