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Mason’s brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”
“She’s not screaming.” Kitty gave us a little wave. “I’m Katherine, but you can call me Kitty.”
I turned to Clint. “Why don’t you guys have a seat? I’ll be right back.”
“Are you guys hungry?” Mason dipped his hands into his pockets. “We’re having a barbecue night if you’re up for it. Pretty sure our chef can make you a very Big Mac-like burger, Kitty.”
“Now you’ve done it.” I patted my little bean absently. “Good thing she’s already married to my brother or she’d steal your chef.”
“Did someone mention chef?”
I turned at the voice and found a ruggedly handsome guy with a brick red bandana covering most of his long-ish hair. The ash blond stuck out from the top in a messy, careless cut that only super hot dudes could get away with.
His smile also reminded me of my ex. A bit full of himself and cocky with it.
Kitty tilted her head in that way of hers. “Can you make me a Big Mac?”
“Darlin’, you’ll never try another burger after mine.”
Clint pulled Kitty closer.
Kitty wiggled away. “Better?”
“Much better.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s the perfect burger.”
“First of all, it’s mostly soy so it’s not even fully a burger.”
Kitty waved that off. “It’s cost-saving, and I don’t care. It’s the special sauce. It’s just a vehicle for it and the perfect level of pickle and lettuce.”
I snickered. “She’s right. Big Macs are the perfect bite.”
“And here you keep telling me you’re a vegetarian.” Clint rolled his eyes then dragged Kitty back against his chest.
She looked up at him. “Not me.”
“No, my sister.”
“I can change my mind.” I swayed with Adriana. “Besides, this kiddo made me crave chicken and beef all day long.”
“It’s a well-known fact that protein is very important for gestation.” Kitty’s voice went into research mode.
The fact that she was a super in demand editor only made her scarier with research. The woman was a word carver for a living. None of us had any hope of getting anything done if she went full Kitty on us.
“Sounds like a challenge,” I said with my most charming smile.
Mason folded his arms. “Meet our chef, Henry Stone. And now he won’t be happy until he makes the perfect Big Mac—thanks.”
“I don’t think it can be done.” Kitty sniffed.
“I can’t wait to prove you wrong. Right after I get the grill at exactly the right temperature.”
“You do that.” Kitty linked her arm with Clint’s. “I mean, I’m going to try it of course, but I don’t believe him.”
The chef shook his head. “She’s a tough one, but I like a challenge.”
He whistled as he sauntered to the far side of the patio where an industrial grill was set up.
