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“I did,” he responded, holding her gaze for a fraction too long. She felt Brock’s disapproval so acutely that he might’ve been shouting it from the rafters. Interesting how she was so in sync with his emotions.
Asher shifted his gaze to Brock as Jules quickly did the introductions. “Asher, this is my cousin Brock.” She hoped that it was okay to address Asher by his first name.
“Pleased to meet you.” Asher extended his hand, and the two men shook.
Asher turned to her with a hopeful expression. “Would you like to partner up with me?”
“I’d love to,” she said smoothly, relieved that she didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of asking him.
A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman stepped into the center of the room. She wore a white chef’s apron and hat, dark curls framing her round face.
“Good evening,” she began with a large smile. “My name is Darla. Welcome to your tour of the Mediterranean. We’ve got a wonderful evening ahead. You'll find complimentary snacks and drinks at each table, and then we’ll dive into a hands-on cooking experience. Afterward, we’ll all dine together on the delicious dishes you've created.” She gestured toward the prep stations. “First up—choose a partner.”
Jules turned to Brock. “I guess you should find a partner.”
He nodded, looking like he was about to get beaten with a stick.
She gave him a soft nudge. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Asher motioned. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do it.” They went and found an open station. Brock ended up getting paired with a silver-haired woman who looked absolutely delighted. Jules couldn’t help but giggle.
“What?” Asher questioned.
“My cousin looks absolutely miserable.”
“Does he live here in Fort Worth?”
“No,” she said vaguely, “he’s visiting from out of town.” Luckily, before Asher could ask any more questions, the class got underway. Jules had never been great at chit-chat. She fumbled for something to say. “So … are you enjoying the class?” She winced inwardly. Lame question. It had barely started.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” he said pleasantly.
At least he hadn’t made her feel awkward for asking a dumb question.
They assembled the ingredients—chickpeas, garlic, lemon—and began following the instructor’s steps for making hummus.
“How’s your recovery going?” Asher asked.
“It’s been rough,” she said honestly. “But I’m surviving.”
“You look like you’re doing pretty well without crutches.”
“It’s getting easier. I’m hoping the worst is over.”
Asher’s brow creased. “Any leads on who hit you?”
“No. But I’m almost positive that it was Steve Randall.”
He didn’t look the least bit surprised.
“Mindy told me strange things have been happening to the staff while I was out. I heard about LouAnna’s tires getting slashed, the person calling Dr. Caldwell and hanging up … and the note left on Mindy’s dog.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about the photo that she’d gotten in the mail. However, if she brought that up, it would dominate the conversation. She was here to get information, not give it.
“Things have been tense,” Asher said somberly. “I just can’t believe we’re all being targeted by some crazy person.”
Asher’s expression shifted, giving Jules the impression he was holding something back.
“What is it? Have you also been getting calls where someone hangs up?”