“What girl?” Frost asked, but he knew what Duane wanted.

“The one you brought to the food truck.”

“Her name’s Lucy,” Frost said.

“She’s pretty. She’s a little young for you, but that’s okay.”

“This from the man who sleeps with a different twenty-something sous chef every week,” Frost pointed out.

Duane grinned. “‘Sous chef’ means ‘under the chef,’ so what do you want from me? Blame it on the French.”

Despite being five years older than Frost, Duane was an incorrigible child at heart. Most chefs were. He had limitless, espresso-fueled energy, which he needed in order to work fourteen-hour days in his kitchen. When they were together, his brother was relaxed and casual, but Duane became a different person when he ran his restaurants. He was impatient and demanding, like a little dictator chopping off the heads of anyone who crossed him. Most of his employees didn’t last long, but even a few months under Duane Easton was a calling card with other chefs around the city.

Duane was a compact package. He was only five foot six and skinny. He had chin-length black hair, parted in the middle, which was how he’d worn it since culinary school in Paris. His face made a sharp V, and his nose was drooping and narrow. He had thick dark eyebrows. Like Frost, his eyes were laser beams, and they had a way of cutting through anyone in front of him, whether it was a chef who’d overcooked the lamb or a single woman looking for a postdinner drink. His fashion sense was eclectic. Right now, he wore a button-down white dress shirt, nylon running shorts, and pink Crocs.

“How’d you meet her?” Duane asked.

“She watched her roommate take a header off the Bay Bridge.”

Duane’s eyebrows rose. “Strange life you lead, bro. Is it serious?”

“I like her a lot, but we’re not going out.”

“Why not? I saw the kiss. She’s obviously into you.”

“I know, but she’s a witness in this case,” he said, which was the obvious excuse.

“So what? That won’t last forever. I think you should go for it.”

Frost hesitated and then said, “There’s something else, too. When I’m with her, she reminds me of Katie. It’s not fair, but I’m not sure I can get past that.”

“Is it her, or is it the time of year?” Duane asked. “We all go a little crazy around Katie’s birthday.”

“It’s probably both,” Frost admitted.

“You know what Katie would say about that? She’d say you’re being an ass.”

“True.”

“What does Shack think of Lucy?”

“Oh, it’s love at first sight between them,” Frost said.

“See? For you, that sounds serious.”

“It is, but not in a romantic way. I just like hanging out with her. She doesn’t pretend to be anyone she’s not. Katie was the same way.”