How Cassie Got Her Grind Back(Divine Creek Ranch 23)(56)

“Right,” he replied with a grimace on his ruggedly handsome face. “What has been seen cannot be unseen.”

Chuckling, she unchained the front door and headed down the hall. “We’ll need my bed, so burning it isn’t an option. I’m going to change the linens and…tidy up in there.”

“Okay, beautiful.”

The first thing she did was blow out the candles and then immediately regretted it. He’d lit several, and by the time she was done, she was waving her hands and wincing at the sweet scent mixed with the odor of smoke. She was just grateful she hadn’t actually seen Bill naked in her room. What a desecration of her private space—not that he’d seen it that way, obviously.

Soft music filtered down the hall. He’d found her stereo, and she heard his chuckle as she recognized the opening chords to Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” “You and I are dancing to this when you get done in there, beautiful,” he called down the hall. “That one brings back some memories.”

Taking a deep breath as she yanked the sheets from the bed, she replied, “I was thinking about you and Samson, and your family, the other night, and I happened to have that CD. What’s a home without at least a little bit of Elvis in it?”

“I recall you were a big fan.”

She chuckled and softly said, “I’m a big fan of your parents.” She could still see them dancing in the kitchen. His parents were the only example she’d ever had of what a happily married couple looked like. Samson and Ivan had groaned in embarrassment and horror at their antics, but Cassie had wanted to be just like them.

“What? I couldn’t hear you,” he said from the doorway as he squinted and waved his arm in the air and turned on her ceiling fan to clear the drifting smoke.

“Whenever I hear Elvis, I always remember the way your parents were with each other. My mom and dad never did that while I lived at home, and after…well, I don’t imagine they wanted to be in the same room with each other, much less dance together. How is the cooking going?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“The vegetables are sautéing. I need to keep an eye on it, but it’ll be at least forty-five minutes while the gravy simmers. We have plenty of time.” He grabbed the corner on the fresh fitted sheet and helped her make the bed. In all their married years, Bill had never helped with such a chore.

She noticed him taking in the framed portraits of the kids hanging on the bedroom wall. “You’ve had a full and blessed life,” he finally said as they put the fresh pillowcases on the pillows. “Assholes aside, of course.”

With a nod, she said, “Yes. Joseph and Tamara are…amazing. I’m so proud of the people they’ve become. And Divine Drip has been a dream come true. My mom is going to be okay. If I ignore nonsense like Bill pulled tonight, and the garbage I put up with from my father, it’s a wonderful life.”

With a grin, he caught the corners of the quilt when she whipped them in the air above the bed. “What about your music? Are you still writing? And singing? I noticed the guitar case in the back of your closet earlier,” he said, pointing at the dusty case propped up against the back wall in the walk-in closet.

“I haven’t touched it, any of it, in years,” she said, thinking of the sheaf of handwritten music tucked inside the case.

“What happened, baby?” he asked as she opened one of the bedroom windows. The soft scent of fall rain hung in the air, and a touch of cool, fresh air kissed her fingertips.

“Oh…life, I suppose. I don’t want to bore you,” she said, evading, reluctant to share the slow demise of her original dream with him. “I made it work. And like you said earlier, I’m blessed.”

He came to her by the window. “Come on,” he said, tugging at her hand. “It’s time to check the gravy.”



* * * *



A little while later when supper was ready, Ivan held the spoon for Cassie as she took another bite of crawfish étouffée. The delight at the meal he’d prepared for her glimmered in her eyes and gave him a feeling of accomplishment that transcended merely feeding her. He loved the half-lidded look of pleasure in her eyes.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, her eyes twinkling as she chewed and swallowed. “You sure know how to cook, Ivan. If I owned a restaurant like Hermione, I’d be all over you like white on rice, trying to steal you away.”

He shrugged and took another bite himself. She’d have to ask him only once. “I’ve found a rather surprising amount of fulfillment as a chef. So you decided against pursuing your music degree?”