Chapter 28
RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES
“Ididn’t think you were going to cook dinner for us tonight,” Arden said two days later. “What do you say to Dr. Blaze, Gracie?”
“Thank you. What did you make?”
He laughed. He knew that would be the first question. “Chicken strips, cheesy bread, or my version of it, cooked carrots, and mashed potatoes.”
“I love those things,” Gracie said, her eyes wide enough to match her grin.
He knew. Arden had told him before. Not to mention the times he’d been eating with them and saw what the little girl consumed.
“Sounds like a good dinner for a six-year-old,” Arden said, coming in the front door.
He wanted to put a kiss on her lips but knew they couldn’t do that in front of Gracie.
He was still Dr. Blaze, the doctor, to Arden’s daughter. The neighbor. Not her mother’s boyfriend.
Hopefully not much longer.
He knew his girlfriend was nervous about letting her ex know about him on Saturday, but it had to be done.
For a lot of reasons.
One, for their peace of mind.
If it was Billy or Tina harassing Arden, once they knew Blaze was in her corner, he hoped it’d end.
That if anyone saw them together, they’d know she wasn’t alone.
It was why he was thrilled Arden hadn’t denied their relationship when Maddy brought it up, nor hours later that day when it came up again in conversation and he was asked by Steven.
It hadn’t taken long after that for him to get sly looks, busting comments and congrats from just about everyone on duty that day.
Just another reason he kept his life private. But everyone had wonderful things to say about Arden.
Of course they did. There was no reason they shouldn’t.
“It might look better than it sounds,” he said. “Come in.”
He hadn’t had them over for dinner once. He’d been going to her house where he knew it was easier, but he was off today and used the time to run some errands, pick up food, visit with his mother to get dessert and donuts, then stop in to see Clay.
He wanted to believe no news was good news, but Clay wasn’t buying it.
He’d looked into Tina again, saw she had a gray four door sedan also.
What he hated was that he hadn’t noticed the make or model. Hadn’t caught onto those details like he always did because his mind went to where the noise was coming from.
As Clay reminded him, gray was a popular car color and no reason to assume anything. To just make sure he looked for all details and documented them next.
The fact the car came out of a townhouse driveway when he was looking didn’t alert him, but maybe it was just turning around?
He didn’t know. And it was too late to focus on it now. The noise she’d heard was people at the dumpster.
Then he had let his brother in on the change in his relationship with Arden.
Maybe he had to get it off his chest a little. But once he’d done that, he’d called Ash and met him out for lunch and said the same thing. The last thing he wanted was to get grief that his youngest brother was upset he was the last to know.
He expected to hear from his mother soon since he hadn’t told her. He never thought life could get this complicated.
He’d had the table set. Not something he did often. Didn’t even eat there but rather at the island or on the couch. But he put more effort into this, trying to make it a family-style setting.
The food was all on serving plates, nothing he’d ever done in his life and only had at his parents’ house.
Gracie moved to the table and pulled out a seat; he sat next to Arden.
“Okay, I give up. This looks much different from what you said.”
He winked at her, waiting to see what Gracie did or said.
The chicken tenders were straight out of the meat department, him coming home and seasoning and then breading them. Two layers to make them extra crispy and crunchy and then sticking them in the air fryer.
In his mind, they looked almost like what came out of the bag, only much better. Gracie might not know the difference.
The baby carrots were glazed with orange juice the way his mother always made them and he was positive Gracie would like them also.
The red smashed potatoes still had a bit of skin mixed in with lumpy pieces of potatoes, butter, salt and pepper with some parsley. The cheesy bread, that was the hard one.
“I told you. Don’t judge the bread though.”
“Is that homemade? You made it yourself or asked your mother to do it?” Arden asked.
He lifted his chin. “I’ve watched my mother for years with yeast-based pastries, but no. I wasn’t adventurous enough to go there. It’s a loaf of French bread, cut in half and butter and cheese spread on it to bake. It was pretty easy and looks good.”
“I’m hungry,” Gracie said. “Do you have dip for the chicken?”
He’d forgotten about that and jumped up to get it out of the fridge. “Barbecue sauce, right?”
“That’s her favorite, unless you’ve got ranch.”
“No ranch, sorry. How about you?”
“I don’t need to dip this. I’m betting it’s flavored enough.”
“We’ll find out,” he said.
Arden filled her daughter’s plate and they sat and ate a family meal like he’d done hundreds of times in his life.
Loud, full of laughter, jokes, and stories of their days.
Maybe he never thought he’d have it himself but was damn happy he was now.
“Tell Dr. Blaze what you did in daycare today, Gracie.”
The little girl was gobbling her chicken up to the point there were only two pieces left. He’d got four items on her plate over the three she always said she’d have.
“We finger painted. I came home and my shirt was messy. But Mom said she can get it clean. I hope so. It was my favorite shirt. But I had so much fun.”
“That sounds like a great time. What did you paint?”
“I painted the three of us in the backyard with sparklers.”
He thought this dinner was going to give him the warm fuzzies, but that statement trumped it a hundred times over.
“I’d love to see it,” he said.
“I took a picture,” Arden said. “It’s still drying. We can bring it home tomorrow.”
She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, unlocked it and handed it over.
He saw the photo on the screen. Three stick figures, him the tallest, Arden in the middle, then Gracie. They had clothes on. He was betting it was what they wore that night because he remembered the pink nightgown on Gracie.
There was one sparkler in each of their hands, faces with big smiles and what he was guessing was fireworks in the sky behind them.
“This is wonderful,” he said. “You’ve got some artistic talent there.”
“I told her the same. And a good memory.”
“I can’t draw at all,” he said. “The only person in my family who had a steady hand was Gale. She liked to draw animals, flowers and rainbows. Girly things.”
“I’m a girl,” Gracie said.
“You are. Your mother reminds me of my sister.”
“I do?”
“You do. She’s equally strong and soft. But very few see the soft side. On the outside, she’s all woman, confident and knows what she’s about. She doesn’t take crap from anyone, but you don’t see it coming until she opens her mouth and gets you right between the eyes.”
“Shhh,” she said, laughing. “Don’t give my daughter any ideas.”
“I’m like Mom,” Gracie said. “Grandma told me. That I’m stubborn too.”
“Oh boy. Why am I hearing this now?” she asked. “What were you stubborn about when you stayed with Grandma and Grandpa?”
“I didn’t like dinner,” Gracie said.
She looked at Blaze. “What did she make?”
“Steak. But it tasted funny. I wanted grilled cheese. She made me one and they said I was stubborn.”
“I’ve never been stubborn with food,” she said. “And I ate what was served to me. There was no chance I’d get something else.”
“The same in our family,” he said, looking at Gracie. “There were five of us and my mother worked all day long with my father. She came in and cooked dinner and we all ate it.”
“What if you didn’t like it?” Gracie asked. “Can I have more chicken?”
“You can,” he said, puffing his chest out some. Arden noticed and rolled her eyes. He didn’t care. “Do you want Mom to make your chicken like this?”
“Yes,” Gracie said, looking at her mother. “I like this better than the other stuff.”
“The stuff I pull out of the bag?” she asked, her teeth clenched.
He reached under the table and patted her leg. Not surprised she might be annoyed over this. She’d tried to do this also, she’d said, and Gracie wouldn’t eat it.
“Yes. This is crunchy. I like crunchy things.”
“I’ll let you know what I did,” he said.
“I’d appreciate that. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”
“There are a few things I can do. Or I cross my fingers and hope they turn out well like the bread.”
“I’m going to send her down here for dinner now,” Arden said, laughing. “I wish it was this easy.”
“Can I come back again for dinner?” Gracie asked.
“You can come back any time you want. I’d love to cook for you again.”
His eyes were on Arden when he said it. She was returning the soft gaze.
The churning in his chest to reach out and touch her more than platonically was killing him.
But tonight wasn’t about what he felt. Or even what Arden did.
It was about what Gracie saw and understood.
“Yes, Mom. I want to come back tomorrow. Dr. Blaze, will you cook us dinner tomorrow?”
He opened his mouth to say yes at the same time Arden said, “You can’t invite yourself to other people’s houses.”
“You can here,” he said. “Because my door is always open for you both.”
And she got that soft look again. It was right there being sent in his direction, and he’d do anything to maintain it.