Matty noticed, a dark voice whispered inside North.

He scrubbed out the voice; tonight, it was just the two of them, doing what they did best. North was allowed to enjoy that.

He pulled out the ribs and two paper cartons with the sides—mac and cheese and black-eyed peas—and tossed the bag to Shaw. Shaw grinned as he pulled it open and reached inside.

Drawing out his hand, Shaw shook out some of the sawdust that North had packed inside the bag. “Simple?”

“It doesn’t get much simpler.”

“Plant-based?”

“Locally sourced from an oak tree named Harold. He lived on a tree farm forty miles north of here. His favorite weather was a light, misting rain.”

“Nothing processed?”

“Oh, no. That sawdust was sawed by hand. Artisan craftsmen from a Mississippi commune using only the finest steel to ensure an even, consistent fluff.”

“Fluff?”

“That’s the technical term for the loft and volume of the sawdust.”

Shaw drew out another handful and blew it toward North.

Dancing backward, North yelped and covered the ribs. “Asshole!”

“Is Mark in there?”

“Obviously he’s not in there. He was here last night. And I’m starving.”

“I’m starving too. Give me some of those.”

“No fucking way. You got sawdust all over them.”

“I did not. And you owe me. I bought you that elote last time we were on Cherokee Street.”

“Shaw: No. Fucking. Way.”

Five minutes later, although North still wasn’t sure how it had happened, they were splitting the rack of ribs. They sat on one of the parking stops, dropping the bones in the bag of sawdust, and Shaw took the black-eyed peas while North devoured the mac and cheese. It wasn’t exactly a scenic view—the red wood veneer of Hog Hollow Hocks gave way to old brick at the back, where a security light shone down on dumpsters. The April air had cooled; overhead, clouds bumped together and rumbled, and once, to the west, North saw lightning. The wind had picked up, and the UPS shorts, which were fun to wear because they got Shaw so damn riled, left North’s legs freezing. That was when he noticed that Shaw was shivering harder than ever.

Reaching over, North tugged on Shaw’s electric blue rain jacket. It slid over Shaw’s collarbone and exposed Shaw’s thin chest. “You didn’t think about putting on a shirt under that jacket?”

Shaw shrugged, still shoveling black-eyed peas into his mouth. “You were in a hurry.”

“And you decided that a cold April day was ideal for wearing your capris from Janis Joplin’s summer collection?”

“I, uh, couldn’t find anything else.”

“Let’s go sit in the car.”

Shaw shrugged and dug around some more in the paper carton, but he shivered so hard on the next breath that he almost fell off the parking stop.

North slipped an arm around Shaw’s shoulders and scooted closer. The heat off Shaw’s skinny ass was negligible, and neither of them said anything. After another minute, Shaw finished the black-eyed peas, belched, and tossed the empty carton toward the trash.