Page 41 of Fire and Ice
She sniffed. “My imitation is better than yours.” She picked up the basket of rolls, along with a butter dish with real butter.
He laughed and helped her carry the roast to the table, along with the plates of vegetables.
Spot sat on a blanket near the kitchen entrance. He had his head on his paws, watching them as they ate. Something about the dog being Grady’s warmed her heart. He clearly loved the dog, who worshipped him back.
“Can I give him a bit of roast?” Chelsea glanced at Grady.
Grady looked at Spot before returning his gaze to Chelsea. “Just a tidbit.”
She beamed. Spot raised his head and looked hopeful, as if he’d understood everything they had just said.
After Grady sliced the roast, she put a little bite of it on a plate to the side. She crouched and offered the morsel to Spot. “Hopefully, this will be a nice treat. Your human wouldn’t let me give you more than this.”
Grady smiled at her when she took her seat. “You’re going to spoil him.”
She took a roll from the basket before passing it to Grady, and she grinned. “I might spoil his master, too.”
He took the basket of rolls from her as he chuckled. “No complaints here.”
Dinner was as fun as usual. She couldn’t get enough of Grady.
While they ate, Spot curled up on his favorite rug in her home and closed his eyes.
“This roast is the best.” He leaned in close. “Tell me the recipe. I won’t give it to Mom, and she’ll drive me nuts just to get it. It will be fun.”
Chelsea laughed. “You are totally the youngest boy in the family. I bet you can do no wrong when it comes to your mom.”
He gave a conspiratorial grin. “Who me?”
“Yes, you.” She loved their fun conversations. “So, tell me more about your family. I love your stories.”
“I have plenty of ’em.” He took a bite of roast. “I’m going to end up boring you if you’re not careful.”
She shook her head. “Never.”
Several stories later, Grady helped Chelsea clean the dishes from the table and wash and put everything away. She liked how domestic it felt working side by side with him. She wouldn’t mind spending time with him every day. No, she wouldn’t mind at all.
They were almost finished cleaning when Chelsea put the heel of her palm against her forehead. “I forgot the wine. I bought a great Merlot to go with the roast.”
“I don’t drink.” Grady dried the last dish. “But you can go ahead.”
She selected a red wine glass from her cabinet. “I didn’t realize that.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I’ve been planning on telling you, but the moment just hasn’t felt right. Now is as good as any.” He blew out his breath. “I’m a recovering alcoholic. I’ve been sober for a long time, and I go to AA meetings and have a sponsor.”
Chelsea felt like the blood drained from her face and spread out across the floor. She fumbled with the wineglass and lost her grip on it.
Grady caught the glass before it hit the floor and set it on the countertop. He studied her. “Are you all right?”
She felt like she was made of glass, as if she might shatter. “No. I’m not okay.”
He studied her intently. “I’ve been sober for eight years, Chelsea.”
She felt numb. “My husband, George, was an alcoholic.” Her tone was brittle. “He was a good man, but he drank so much that it took him farther and farther from me. When he was wasted, he would just sit in his chair and stare out into space. It was like he had no life in him at all.”
She pushed her hair out of her face as she continued. “Like I said, he was a good man. He wasn’t a mean drunk. But I lost my husband every time he opened a bottle of Jack or Captain Morgan.”
Grady caught her by her upper arms and drew her close. At first, she was rigid in his embrace, but she finally relaxed with her head against his chest. Tears squeezed from beneath her eyelids as he held her.
