He flicked a rock over the rim of the hill, then took hold of Charlie’s collar so he wouldn’t go after it. “She wants to believe her.”
What kind of woman would walk away from a man like this? Her own daughter too. Cassie couldn’t imagine. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, and his eyes opened up for a second. Then he closed them, and she banished the voice in her head that was nudging her to come clean.
There was still time for that.
Chapter Fifteen
Glenn was a decent cook. Not a good cook, he wouldn’t go that far. Decent. He got the job done. It had been him and Lilah for so long, and her a picky eater, that his repertoire was limited. Endless peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Chicken or burgers for dinner. Sometimes he snuck in a green vegetable. Nothing fancy.
But tonight he’d stepped it up. Tonight Cassie was coming for dinner.
He wanted it to be low key—no noisy restaurant—just the two of them in his kitchen with a bottle of wine. Maybe two. Lilah was at a friend’s and Andrew was home with Cassie’s dad, and he had a roast in the oven and…holy Jesus.
Cassie smiled up at him as he opened the door, looking like a million bucks in jeans and a clingy black top.
“Um, you look incredible,” he managed. The last time he’d seen her she’d been in sneakers and leggings. Not that she didn’t look good then, but this top was…well…it hugged her in all the right places. He stood there stupidly for a second, with Charlie milling around, until Cassie asked if she could come in.
“Yes!” He threw open the door. God, he was acting like an idiot. “Please, come in.” Then, before he could overthink it, he dropped a kiss on her mouth. Were they at that stage now? Apparently they were because her face lit, and she said, “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too,” he said with a hum of happiness. He’d been nervous about this evening. Actually having a woman over to dinner. Laying it all out there. This was who he was, where he lived. The house wasn’t grand but it was his. He’d built the deck himself, painted every wall. And he was raising his daughter here.
Of course Lilah hadn’t picked up her things the way he’d asked. He frowned as he led Cassie past the family room, where Lilah’s stuff was strewn all over. Sneakers, a sweatshirt. Hair clips and other crap littering the couch. And in the middle of the hallway, Charlie’s orange ball, which Glenn toed out of the way so they wouldn’t kill themselves. “Sorry, this is as good as it gets,” he said.
Cassie seemed unfazed. “Are you kidding, this is nothing. I’m still finding stuff from thirty years ago at my dad’s house. I have to sneak it out to the trash when he’s not looking.” She paused to admire a picture Lilah had done. A framed chalk drawing of a man in what looked like a space suit surrounded by bees. The beekeeper in orange, the bees glowing like tiny red stop lights.
“Is that you?” she said. The beekeeper was impossibly tall, dwarfing the hive, even the trees.
“I think it is. I guess I used to loom large to her.”
She gave him a smile he couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sure you still do.”
He opened the wine and she found a couple of glasses and he remembered again how easy she was to be with. If someone had told him a month ago he’d be seeing a lawyer from New York, he would have said they were crazy. He’d have pictured some hyper-caffeinated woman, charging across town in head-to-toe black. In spite of everything going on in her life, Cassie wasn’t frenzied like that. Sure, she worried about Alzheimer’s and her dad and Andrew—who wouldn’t? But she had a contagious laugh and just being in her presence made him feel lighter, like hemight not need to sweat all the little things. And he liked the look of her in his kitchen. Yes, he did. Leaning against the counter like she belonged there.
Over a glass of wine, she told him about the pinching incident. “Right up her skirt,” she said.
He winced. “Do you think he knew what he was doing?”
“Oh, he knew.”
“So what now?”
She gave a resigned shrug. “Now that he’s on the FBI Most Wanted List I doubt we’ll be able to find someone else.”
“At least Andrew’s there.”
“For now. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to keep my dad at home. He thinks he’s more capable than he is, that’s the hard part. The other day I found him trying to split wood. With anaxe.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“You’re telling me.” They’d pulled out a couple of stools and were sitting at the counter with their wine. “He always had to be in control. I couldn’t stand it growing up. If I turned up a song on the radio, he’d harangue me that the song was terrible. So the next time, I’d turn it up even louder just to irritate him. I’m sure he thought I was being difficult, and maybe I was. Or maybe I was angry over my mom and had no one else to take it out on.” She let go a sigh. “I don’t even remember half of what we fought about anymore. It doesn’t matter.”
The timer went off, which seemed to reset her. “Anyway, enough of that depressing stuff. What can I do to help?”
“Dinner should be almost ready.” He opened the oven and stuck a meat thermometer in the roast, but it was nowhere near done. He tested the meat with a fork. “I haven’t made this in a while, I thought it would be ready by now.” Then a troublesome thought. “You do eat meat, don’t you?”
“Um…sometimes.” She’d found a slotted spoon and was busying herself turning the skillet potatoes.
He shot her a worried look. “Uh oh, that didn’t sound convincing.” Why hadn’t he asked her? Not everyone ate red meat. He was so used to doing his own thing, he’d forgotten to find out what she liked to eat. He should have just made something simple like pasta. She’d eaten pasta at the restaurant. Why hadn’t he just done that?
