Soul Dreams by Desiree Holt Page A

brought her food? Did everyone think she was incapable of feeding herself? Then she realized what a truly kind gesture this was. Had bringing her the food been his idea or Blake’s? Well, no matter. And everything smelled divine.
    “Thank you. What a nice thing to do.”
    “It was Blake’s idea,” he hurried to say. “He thought of it all on his own.”
    As if he never did things for people ?
    “Here. Let me take this from you. I have some fresh hot coffee. Can I interest you in a cup in exchange?”
    He frowned. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d probably best be getting back.”
    “Please.” She smiled at him. “A friend brought me a delicious double fudge chocolate cake. It’s probably supposed to be for dinner, but I can’t wait to bite into it. Shall we be adventurous and have dessert in the morning?”
    “Well, when you put it that way…okay. Sure. I guess.” He took off his hat. “Thanks.”
    “Will Mr. Massie be okay while you’re here?”
    Grange barked a short laugh. “He’ll be fine. And I’d love to have coffee with you.”
    “Good. Come on back to the kitchen.” As they passed through the living room, she caught him glancing at the fireplace. “You’d think after all this time, I’d have learned to build a proper fire, but I guess I don’t have the knack.”
    “I could take care of it real quick. No problem,” he assured her as she started to object. “Do you have more wood?”
    “Yes. On the back porch. I have someone deliver a full cord every year before the winter starts. I have more newspaper, too.”
    “Then let me take care of this while you put away the food. It should go into the fridge until you’re ready to heat it.”
    Nina pointed to the backdoor then put the grocery bag on the counter. Inside the paper tote were a variety of plastic containers. As she opened each one she grinned, feeling like a child at Christmas. Since there was no one but her, she’d gotten in the habit of buying a frozen dinner for Thanksgiving and sharing it with Brutus. But here was turkey, gravy, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, dressing, and a vegetable casserole. Her mouth was already watering.
    The back door slammed shut, and Grange clumped through the kitchen carrying an armload of firewood. While he stacked what he’d brought in and worked on her fire, she filled two mugs with coffee and cut two thick slices of Riley’s mouthwatering cake. She had finished setting everything on the table when he came back into the room.
    “I got a pretty good blaze going for you,” he told her. “You ought to throw another log on it every so often during the day, but let it die down before you go to bed.” A faraway look came into his eyes, one filled with despair. “Fire can be a dangerous thing when it gets out of control.”
    Had he experienced a bad fire? Did it hold the secret to the reclusive man who never left the house and only talked via the Internet? Then the look vanished and he glanced at the table.
    “Sit down. Please.”
    They sat across from each other, sipping coffee. Grange took a big bite of the cake and smiled when he’d swallowed it.
    “This is some damn fine cake. I don’t suppose you’d share the recipe.”
    Nina laughed. “It’s not mine. I can barely bake biscuits from a can. My friend Riley made it, but I’m sure she’d be happy to pass the info along.”
    He frowned. “You don’t cook?”
    “Only whatever Brutus and I need. A lot of times I get takeout from Wyoming Eats before I go home. Or the pizza place.” She shrugged. “Cooking for one hardly seems worth the effort.”
    He glanced at her over the next bite of cake on his fork. “Sometimes cooking can be a pleasure by itself.”
    “Is it for you? I know it’s you and Bl—um, Mr. Massie all alone there, yet here you’ve cooked an entire Thanksgiving dinner. And it smells absolutely divine.”
    He chewed his cake thoughtfully. “Blake’s not much of one for celebrating anything any more,” he said slowly.