Page 10 of Sweet Devotion

“Really?” She was still looking at him, her gaze sincere.

“Yeah. I will most likely, however, hurt like hell tomorrow morning.”

Alice appeared from the pantry, her arms laden with jars of canned vegetables, she set them on the table then turned and walked to the fridge. “One of you start slicing the potatoes. I don’t want them too thick or too thin.”

Just then, Brady and Clint came in the back door. Alice’s husband paused to scrape his footwear on the boot cleaner, Brady, the family’s German Shepherd, had already become Alice’s shadow.

“Do you cook often?” He didn’t know where that question came from.

“I used to cook with Mom all the time when I lived at home. Then there was college food, then working and studying for my masters, I reverted to lots of frozen dinners.”

He nodded. “My mother tries, but she’s missing the Italian gene that would make her meals taste like my grandmother made them.”

“So your grandmother is a good cook?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

A brief snort escaped from her before she bit her lips to hold it in. “Understood.”

Alice reappeared, this time with an armful of cheeses balanced on a container of heavy cream. “If you haven’t guessed, we’ll be having scalloped potatoes au gratin with the roast I have in the oven.”

“Roast?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. In the Bronx a roast was saved for Sunday supper after church. When people live on a cattle ranch, why not a roast on a Friday night?

“Actually, three. I’m expecting a crowd for dinner and then there will be leftovers for sandwiches…” she smiled, “or noshing.”

“Mrs. Sweet,” Aiden beamed back at her, “you’ve been holding out on me. You have a little New York in you.”

Tipping her head, grinning widely and offering up a lazy shrug, she looked at him pointedly. “And that, young man, is for me to know and you to find out.”

That was all he needed to burst out in a loud cackle. “Mrs. S, you are something else.”

“And now that you’re done with the potatoes,” Alice Sweet waved in the direction of the two bowls of sliced potatoes, “I’ve got to stick a few things in the oven and we don’t need three people for that. Why don’t you two mosey down to the barn…”

Aiden had to reel in his thoughts not to burst out laughing at the thought of moseying anywhere.

“Check out the horses,” Alice continued. “But take it slow. The path is pretty level but that hip has to be growling at you by now.”

There was no arguing, his hip was protesting, loudly.

“A leisurely walk is not a bad idea. It will keep you from stiffening up.”

“Then I guess a leisurely walk it is.” Colleen set a dishrag on the countertop and turned around. “Mind if I grab a few apples or carrots?”

“We have apples in a barrel in the pantry for the horses.” Alice tipped her chin in the direction of the pantry.

“Perfect.” Colleen grinned at the family matriarch and Aiden wondered if it would be so awful if he confessed all he really wanted was a very long hot shower and an even longer stay on his nice comfy bed. Colleen appeared from inside the pantry with a cloth sack hanging from her elbow, weighed down by a goodly number of apples.

“Just how many horses are we visiting?”

As Alice had promised, the path from the back door to the barn was flat and, for the most part, level. Despite that, the cloth sack of apples bumped against Colleen’s hip with every step—every slow step. Based on the records she’d received of his injury and rehab stint, she didn’t want Aiden to push too hard.

“You’ve got enough apples in that bag for a cavalry.” Aiden seemed to be focusing on every step, not looking at her when he spoke. Instead, he was carefully watching the ground ahead of him.

“That’s because the other horses could become jealous if they see Boots eating treats.”

She couldn’t quite see his face, but the tight set of his jaw mixed with a lingering silence suggested he was taking her comment seriously. “Horses really get jealous, or is this some country form of hazing the city boy?”

“Do I look like someone who would hang you out to dry?”