Jackie pulled the napkin off the table and put it over her lap as Bobby brought the plates out. He hadn’t cooked much for her, a meal or two here or there, but from that she had caught on was that he was a pretty decent cook. Not that Jackie should be surprised by that. Though she might have babied him some, Cat did raise a strong and confident man, one who knew how to live on his own. “It looks good, Bobby,” Cat said, eyeing the Fettuccine Alfredo. “Thanks, someone gave me a really good recipe and I’m glad I’m finally able to put it to good use,” he told her, tossing a wink at Jackie, which made her duck her head. The movement, however, didn’t go unnoticed by Cat. “You know, Jackie,” Cat started as she took a piece of bread and dunked it in her sauce, “I know my Bobby was a player, I didn’t like it, but what could I say, you know? So it’s really nice to see him settle down with a woman like you. Someone who has her head on
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