Chapter 14
Hallie
Cooking is like love.
It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.
~ Harriet Van Horne
I stare at Greyson.
Did he just say okay?
He’s coming to dinner? At our house?
“Great,” I say with a well-practiced Southern smile. “We’ll see you at six?”
He stares at me in that intense, unreadable way of his and nods. “Six works.” Then he repeats his previous offer. “What can I bring?”
Mom says, “Just yourself,” at the same time as Mia practically shouts, “Something really yummy … and sweet!”
Greyson shifts his eyes away from mine and smiles down at Mia.
Yes. He smiles. At my daughter. The man is smiling.
My brain doesn’t have a file where I can place items labeled, “Greyson smiles warmly at my daughter.” The fact flies around like a paper in the wind inside the tornado that is my brain right now.
“How about chocolate chip cookies?” Greyson offers calmly. He’s all cool and collected, as usual. Then, as if he wasn’t causing a supercell windstorm in my heart with the way he’s treating Mia, he adds, “With vanilla ice cream, of course. That way we can make ice cream sandwiches.”
“Yes!” Mia thrusts a fist in the air. “But you better get Neapolitan. It’s better for that kind of thing.”
He chuckles softly at her, but his face resumes neutrality when his eyes lift to mine. “Is ice cream okay? I should have asked first.”
“Ice cream’s fine,” I manage to say.
“See you at six, then,” he says. “Text me the address, okay?” His words flow out with the calmness of a lake on the most non-windy day ever.
“Yeah,” I say, grasping at something more to say, but apparently the inner gust of Greyson’s kindness has blown the English language completely out of my reach. “Sounds good. See you at six.”
Greyson turns back to the meat case and grabs out a small package of chicken and another package of two steaks. He sets them in his cart, nods at me and my family and walks away toward the front of the store.
And, for the first time ever, I picture Greyson outside work and off the ball field—living alone, eating alone, shopping alone.
As much as I occasionally lament my overcrowded, overly busy life, I can’t imagine that level of solitude. Give it to me for a few days, please. Yes, please. But on a neverending loop, I would definitely be lonely.
Is Greyson lonely?
I’ve never even considered it.
He doesn’t act lonely. He acts … neutral and hard to read.
Except when he’s talking with my daughter and that particular brand of warmth sneaks out like the sun from behind a cloud. He’s always so serious at work. A tiny ray of that same kindness came out when he stooped low to address Cletus.
I know one thing for certain. Greyson won’t be lonely tonight. If anything, he’ll practically be running out the door after a strong dose of Mom, Mia and Henry Cavill.
“Well now, that’s a pleasant surprise,” Mom says as soon as Greyson is out of earshot.
Or at least I hope and pray he’s out of earshot.
“Coach G is coming to dinner!” Mia says excitedly. “Better get a few boxes of au gratin potatoes.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “We’d better.”
We make our way through the store. My main list for the week is practically abandoned. I’m mainly focused on pulling together everything we’ll need for tonight’s dinner. He’s just one extra person. You’d think I was hosting a party for the whole crew by the time we reach the checkout.
Back home, I prep dinner, placing the ribs in the Crock-Pot and then showering. Yes. I already showered this morning, but for some reason, I feel the need to shower and do my hair now.
It’s just Greyson.
I repeat the reminder to myself.
Mom’s no help.
“Showering again, huh?” she says when I step into the hallway wrapped in a towel.
“I felt like the day had taken its toll on me.”
“Mm hmm,” she says with a wry grin.
“He’s a co-worker and Mia’s coach.”
“Mm hmm.”
“I’m not looking for a man, Mom.”
“Mm hmm.”
“Oh my gosh. Get a hobby.”
“Oh, I have one,” she says with a wink, and then she sashays down the hall humming some love song.
In my bedroom, I try on four shirts before landing on something soft but absolutely not romantic.
What am I doing?
I pull on jeans and text my sister.
Hallie: Greyson’s coming to dinner. As in Coach Greyson. As in my co-worker Greyson.
Avery: Shut the front door!
Hallie: Mom, Mia and I bumped into him at the grocery.
Avery: And you invited him?
Hallie: Did you hit your head? No. Mom and Mia did.
Avery: So, what are you cooking?
Hallie: Ribs, potatoes and salad.
Avery: Good. Those are good manly foods.
Hallie: What exactly does that mean?
Avery: Like, you’re not cooking quiche or stuffed mushrooms.
Hallie: He’d eat my quiche or mushrooms.
Avery: I bet he would.
Hallie: Not you too! I’m sending an S.O.S. over here. Mom is all ooooh and ahhhh. I just can’t with her.
Avery: She just wants to see you embracing life.
Hallie: I get that. And I’ve embraced life. I’ve got so much life I don’t even have time to live it all.
Avery: Not what I mean.
Hallie: I know. But I told you both, I’m not in the market for romance. And Greyson is off the table. He’s Mia’s coach, my co-worker. Besides, he's not interested in me.
Avery: But you’re interested in him.
Hallie: I didn’t say that.
Avery: You didn’t not say it.
Hallie: He’s an enigma.
Avery: Plain English for the people in the back, please.
Hallie: A puzzle. A conundrum. A mystery. He’s closed off, but then he opens up. Layers. The man has layers.
Avery: Like a cake. Yum.
Hallie: You are incorrigible. I’m going to go. I have to prep the au gratin and salad.
Avery: Just relax, Hallie. A co-worker is coming to dinner. That’s all.
Hallie: Yes. You’re right. My co-worker is coming to dinner. The end.
Avery: I mean … What could go wrong with Mom, Mia and that dog in the mix? Right?
Hallie: I officially hate you.
Avery: You officially love me. I’ll text you later to hear the debrief. Or call me when he leaves, okay?
Hallie: Yeah. Okay. Also, I do officially love you.
Avery: I officially love you, too. Even if you are blind and stubborn.
I chuckle, tossing my cell onto my bed and turning for the kitchen.
An hour later, Greyson’s at the door. Mia darts up from the couch where she’s been playing with a paper doll book we found at a cute little shop downtown.
Mia pulls the door wide open and Henry Cavill comes bounding off the couch, leaping at Greyson, both paws landing squarely on his chest.
Greyson lets out a gust of breath with an “Oof!” and then he grabs Henry’s paws and says, “Hey, there,” as he lowers Henry’s paws to the ground.
“That’s Henry Cavill,” Mia announces. “You can call him Daddy.”
Greyson chuckles. “Daddy, huh?” He looks up at me, an amused grin on his full lips—as if I named my dog Daddy.
The deep timbre of Greyson’s laughter fills the front room, foreign and so very masculine.
Greyson ruffles Henry on the head and then he looks up at me with a soft, “Hey.”
“Hi. Welcome to our house.”
Welcome to our house? Ugh.
“Thanks for having me over,” he says, extending a paper bag in the air. “Where should I put this?”
“I’ve got it!” Mia practically shouts.
You could power the block with her energy right now.
Greyson hands Mia the bag. She peers down into it. Henry sticks his head in there too.
“Henry, no!” Mia shouts with a smile on her face, yanking the bag away. “You don’t get cookies, Daddy.”
Greyson muffles his amused chuckle, his eyes crinkle and he looks at me.
I barely recognize him. He’s usually so dour and somber. Something about my daughter unleashes this side to him that I don’t quite know what to do with.
Mia marches into the kitchen with Henry at her heels.
Mom pops out from her room. “Oh, Coach G, you’re here.”
I roll my eyes when Greyson turns to greet Mom. As if she didn’t know he came in. I think the neighbors heard the commotion.
She steps up to Greyson and pulls him into a hug. He stiffens for a second, but then he wraps his arms around her and allows her to fully squeeze him.
“Okay,” I say, probably louder than necessary. “Let’s get you something to drink.”
“Do you like sweet tea?” Mom asks Greyson, as if it’s a rite of passage.
“I like tea,” he says. “I’ll take whatever you’re serving.”
“Hallie makes it the old-fashioned way. She’s quite the domestic goddess, really.”
Greyson’s brows raise and I stifle a groan.
“I make tea,” I say. “It’s not a five-course gourmet meal. Last time I checked, no goddesses lived under this roof.”
I turn and walk toward the kitchen to make sure Mia’s coming along with putting away the ice cream. And, also, I don’t exactly need Greyson studying the blush rising up my neck.
“This house doesn’t have a proper dining room,” Mom announces to Greyson. “We’ve got the island or the kitchen breakfast area. I have a hunch that Hallie’s bedroom was the dining room in years gone by.”
“I love these older homes,” Greyson remarks, looking around the kitchen at the historic details. He glances out the windows down the long back yard. “And your garage was probably a carriage house out back.”
“That’s just what I thought,” Mom says with the tone of a besotted schoolgirl.
I pull the ribs onto a platter, and pull out a knife to separate them.
“May I?” Greyson steps up next to me.
My breath hitches. I hope he doesn’t hear it.
We’re in close proximity all the time for work. Yesterday, we were actually tangled up on top of Cletus.
This feels different.
He’s in my home.
“Sure. Yes,” I say, stepping aside and busying myself with the salad and grabbing a serving spoon to stick into the potatoes.
“Everything smells great,” Greyson says, his voice back to that more familiar gruffness.
“I’m starving,” I tell him.
“You burn a lot of calories.”
“I do. And I can’t remember if I ate lunch, so there’s that too.”
Greyson washes his hands and I try not to stare at him while he does.