She frowns, trying to figure out where I’m taking her. “You’re taking me to a restaurant?”
I roll my eyes. “A café and restaurant are basically the same thing.”
She smiles. “Only to an ignoramus like you.”
“I don’t know what that means, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it’sFrench for ‘handsome devil.’”
She laughs and swats my arm. “Shut up and give me a clue.”
“It’s an exclusive outdoor event that takes place a few times a year,” I tell her. “And every chef outthere, professional and otherwise, flocks to it.”
She looks a little confused for a moment.
And then the lightbulb goes off.
“No,” she gasps, grabbing my steering arm. “No way!”
“You’re taking me to the Grandin Farmer’s Market?”
“That’s the one,” I confirm.
“Oh my God!” she sq
