Page 30 of Sweet Devotion

“You like to bake?” Helping Colleen clean up while Abigail cooed at the furball in her arms as if she were a human baby, Aiden couldn’t help but notice the woman had enough packets of yeast to bake bread for the whole state.

“Bake?” Abigail couldn’t have looked more confused if you’d mentioned she had a third eye on her forehead.

“The yeast.” Aiden waved a hand over the remaining packets on the ground.

“Oh that.” The laugh the woman let out was somewhere between ‘bless your pea picking stupid heart’ and ‘I’ll get you my little pretty’, either way, Aiden was still waiting for an answer as he tossed the last packet into a paper bag.

“Abigail makes wine,” Colleen supplied, having put all the remaining scattered items into a large canvas tote.

“Honeysuckle wine.” The way her chin lifted in the air he expected to hear the words ‘for the King’ to follow. Or at least a prominent president.

Not sure what to say, he glanced in Colleen’s direction.

“Wins the blue ribbon at the county fair every year.” Still cuddling the poofy dog close to her chest, Abigail grinned like she’d won the Irish Sweepstakes.

“They have a ribbon for honeysuckle wine making?” He had to ask.

“Actually,” Colleen pushed to her feet, waited for Abigail to place the pooch on the ground and handed her the bag, “it’s a craft section for homemade beers and wines. One year old man Hutching entered his homemade bourbon.”

“Didn’t stand a chance against my wine.” Abigail raised her chin higher.

“Some of the best local craft beers have come to be from the blue ribbon winners.”

“I see.” Though he had no idea how anyone got away legally with participating without a liquor license, who was he to ask questions.

If Colleen had ever had more fun spending an afternoon with a man, she couldn’t remember who or when. And she was absolutely positive she’d never danced with anyone as good as Aiden. The way he nudged her out and back and around, she knew what he wanted her to do and was positive he made her look almost as good as Ginger Rogers. Though she doubted Aiden would appreciate being called Fred. “Who taught you how to dance like that?”

Taking the freeway turn off for Honeysuckle, Aiden shrugged behind the wheel. “Sort of a group effort.”

“Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “My grandparents on my dad’s side were the music lovers, but my grandparents on my mom’s side were the dancers in the family. Growing up, we lived in the second floor apartment over my grandparents’ apartment. My Aunt Mary and Uncle Al had the third floor apartment.”

Brows furrowed in thought, Colleen tried to picture where he grew up. Three families in one house.

Her expression must have been telling the way Aiden chuckled. “Where I grew up, there were lots of massive Dutch colonial houses. By the time my parents were born, most had been converted to multi family homes. And it was pretty common for several generations to live in the house. Made it easy for family togetherness but still allowed for independence. It also didn’t hurt when it came to Sunday supper, all anyone had to do was head down to the basement.”

“That was your mom’s parents?”

He shook his head. “No, Sunday dinner was at my dad’s family home. The Italian side was big on massive tables, hoards of people, and enough food to feed all of the Bronx. Their house was two doors down.”

“Two doors?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “That’s how Mom and Dad met. They grew up together, became high school sweethearts, married, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“All right. But how did learning to dance become a group effort?”

“I’m pretty sure my Grams started dancing with me as soon as I could walk. Some days, when all the cousins were around, the place was a regular dance-athon. My cousin Frank was a natural. By the time I got to junior high, my grandfather taught me how to lead.”

“That’s why I knew what you wanted me to do?”

He nodded. “Yep. Slight shift at your waist and you should know if I wanted you to go right or left.”

“I did. And then when I was out there on my own, a tug of your fingers brought me back. A few times, I could feel you nudging me the other way with the hand at my waist.”

“My grandfather would be thrilled to know his efforts weren’t wasted on me.”

“Not even a little. It was fun. Really fun.”