Page 10 of Rett

“I have no clue,” she said, shrugging. “My mother never talked about her family much, and my father only recently died after being out of my life for a long time. I should probably do one of those ancestry tests.” He nodded.

“Did you get to eat yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. Otto was trying to get me to the food line, but we kept getting stopped, and then I think his wife pulled him on the dance floor.” Rett nodded, holding out his hand.

“Will you allow me to take you?” he said hopefully.

“Sure,” she smiled. “Although I have to tell you, this is absolutely the weirdest first date I’ve ever had.” Rett couldn’t help but laugh despite the panic in his body. Did he want this to be a first date? Should he even be thinking about first dates right now?

“I’m so sorry, Casey. I never thought those men would follow me. You were so kind and selfless in giving me shelter and food. I’ll never, ever forget that. You risked your own life for me.”

“In fairness, I didn’t know I was risking my life,” she smiled. “But even if I had known, I would have done it anyway. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Someone believes I hurt someone else,” he mumbled. She looked up at him, turning him to face her.

“It’s not possible. I know it deep down in my bones. It’s not possible. You don’t possess the ability to hurt anyone, especially a woman. I’ve known men who weren’t so kind, and you didn’t look or act anything like them. I felt safe with you in my apartment.”

“Did someone hurt you?” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Rett, that only assures me what kind of man you are. Men hurt women. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally, with words and actions. I didn’t have my father there to guide me with things like that, so I had to rely on my mother.”

“She wasn’t much help?”

“She was. Sort of. I mean, I’m very glad for the conversations we had, but she didn’t tell me how devious men could be. Maybe devious is too harsh. Self-serving. How is that?” He stared at her, willing her to continue.

“When I was in culinary school in Paris, I was dating a fellow student. He was average at best, but we got along well, and I was lonely being so far from home. We had to do a team dish. A very complex pastry, a croquembouche. We were required to make it in unusual flavors, using unusual spices. I knew that I was the one doing most of the work, but I didn’t really care. We’d both get credit for it.”

“Except you didn’t,” he murmured.

“No, I didn’t. He took credit for most of the work, and when I denied his claims, the chef said I was a selfish partner. I was furious and ran from the kitchen. He came to my apartment later, trying to get intimate with me. I wasn’t having anything to do with it. I made him leave and never spoke to him again.

“The next day, the chef pulled me aside and told me that two other students told him the truth. He apologized and adjusted my grade, but it stung. Really, really stung.”

“I can understand that,” said Rett. “He was an idiot, Casey. You’re a beautiful, talented woman. You forget I’ve tasted your cooking.”

Casey laughed, shaking her head as she bit into the food on her plate.

“Oh, my God! Who made this food?”

“I’m going to guess it was Sara, George, and Dylan. They’re the primary cooks here, along with my great-grandmother, Irene.”

“Holy crap, this is good,” she mumbled with a mouth full of food.

“I sure appreciate it,” smiled Irene. “I’m no chef, and I’m not trained, but I know what tastes good and what my family likes.”

“That makes you a chef, Miss Irene.”

“No Miss. It’s Irene, Mama Irene, or just Mama.” Casey smiled at her, nodding.

“Rett, you take care of our girl, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You know, despite what a shitty few weeks it’s been, I’m glad to be home and would sure love to dance with you, Casey.” She looked up from her plate and smiled.

“I’d love to dance, but you’re going to have to give me a minute. I have got to finish this plate of food.”

CHAPTER SIX

Dancing in Rett’s arms, Casey realized just how big he was and just how small she was. Her head barely came to his chest in her flat shoes. She felt his hand wrap around her hair, holding it firmly. Her body warmed to thoughts she shouldn’t be having about a man she barely knew, but she couldn’t help herself. He smelled wonderful. Like the wilderness after rain, and truffles and butter. No, that wasn’t it. He smelled like chocolate and cinnamon. That was it.

---