“Cassie?” he called a little while later as he closed the cooler and made sure it sealed tight, the finished cake enclosed inside.
“Huh?” she called from her office.
“You like crawfish, don’t you?”
“I love crawfish! Remember? I could eat your mom’s crawfish étouffée by the bucket-full! I haven’t had crawfish in years.”
“That’s what I was thinking about making for you,” he said as he rounded the worktable and peeked into her small office.
Her face fell. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any crawfish at home.”
“Easily remedied.”
She tapped her pencil against her lips and then smiled at him. “I need to drop this deposit at the bank before they close. Batson’s is just down the block from there, and I could stop by and pick up a pound from their seafood department. In the meantime, why don’t you drive over to my house and get started. There are peppers and onions, and everything you need to get started is in my panty—I mean my pantry!”
Ivan chuckled at her slip and said, “I think you have more on your mind than me getting into your pantry.”
Cassie sat back in her chair and laughed with him. “I can’t believe I said that!”
“Well, hold that thought, why don’t you? We’re getting an early start to the night,” he said, all trace of hilarity gone.
Sounding a little breathless, Cassie stuttered. “I-I w-well…umm.”
That wasn’t a no, and neither was the warm kiss she gave him when he bent down to her.
Fifteen minutes later he turned onto the street she’d directed him to and looked for the house with multi-colored rock and a porch wrapping around one side. It was easy to find with the house number displayed on her mailbox. He parked the truck on the curb behind a dark blue Lexus so she could park in the driveway and shut off the ignition. He took a moment and tried Samson’s cell phone again.
“Hey,” Samson growled into the phone. “What’s up? Everything go okay?”
“It was fine. I just wanted to let you know I’m at Cassie’s place. I’m making her supper. Her mom is going to be okay. She had a panic attack—you can imagine why, with Cassie’s dad throwing a tantrum.”
“Did they let her go home?”
“She’s staying overnight in the hospital so they can observe her. There must be a few other symptoms they want to keep an eye on.”
Samson made an affirming sound and said, “I’m curious to know what her dad was saying about Bill.”
Ivan chuckled, knowing Samson would feel territorial already. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It appears her dad doesn’t have much control or influence over our Cassie anymore.”
“‘Our Cassie.’ I like the sound of that.”
“But if you want to ask her, you could always come over. I’m making crawfish étouffée.”
“Damn it. I wish I could, but it’ll be late by the time I leave.”
“I’ll text you the address just in case you change your mind.”
“I think she needs to be the one to extend the invitation, don’t you? Besides, on your own, you may be able to make up some of the ground I seem to keep losing with her.”
“You do have the worst luck, don’t you? Any more skeletons going to fall out of your kinky little closet?”
“I sure as hell hope not.”
Removing the key from his pocket, he walked up the steps. “I’ll tell her we spoke. I’ve got to get started. Talk to you later.”
“Yeah. Have fun. I mean it.”
“I’m just cooking. We’ll see what happens. I’m the new kid on the block, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“So chivalrous, too. Okay, talk to you later.”
Ivan put his phone away and slid the key into the deadbolt lock and went inside. He smiled at the sight that greeted him. Her house was tidy, spic and span. Not a speck of dust or disorder anywhere. She’d always been a tidy person.
The open floor plan led from the entryway to the living room, and then he got a load of the large kitchen beyond.
Wow. Niiiice.
Hammered copper pots in every size glinted from their hooks on a pot rack suspended above the granite island. The built-in gas cooktop gleamed below the pots, the burnished hardware of the burners beckoning him with their culinary siren song.
He set his car keys on the island and looked around at the obvious love she’d lavished on her kitchen. Glass-fronted cabinets painted in a soothing muted greenish-blue displayed sets of crystal glassware and white china. A large arrangement of fresh tulips filled a vase on the counter, and he smiled as he approached the stainless steel refrigerator. Peeking inside, he spotted a bottle of sangria and recalled she’d liked it the night at the Pony. He reached into a nearby cabinet and took out two blown-glass wine goblets and filled them with the wine.