Page 18 of Serve ’N’ Protect

“Ah.” She held up one of the salad spoons. “That explains the ladder. Did you fall off the ladder?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever answer a question with more than one word?”

“I try not to.”

She snorted. “That was four.”

“Don’t get excited.” He tugged a cell phone from his pants pocket and started scrolling, pausing when the sound of a passing car on the street filtered into the kitchen. Leaning over, he pulled down the shade. “Did John give you the alarm code?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes.” She turned back to the sauce, stirring before it exploded all over John’s new and equally drool-worthy cooktop. Using a fork, she hooked two long noodles from the pot, jiggling them so they’d cool. Ghost walked over and sat, watching her wave the noodles back and forth. “Let’s check for al dente, shall we?” She ate one of the noodles then held the other above Ghost’s snout, lowering it into his greedy mouth and smiling as it reminded her of that famous scene in Lady and the Tramp.

Markus looked up from his phone. “Did you just feed my dog spaghetti?” The look on his face was one of utter horror.

“It was one noodle. What’s the harm?” She took the bread from the oven, setting it on a trivet on the table. Markus might take surly to an art form, but Ghost was already turning into a fantastic companion. For a cop, that is.

“He doesn’t eat carbs. Usually neither do I.” He pointed to a corner of the kitchen. “Ghost, go lie down.”

With a huff, the dog went to a bed in the corner, circled twice, then lay down.

“Forgive me.” Cassidy grabbed two mitts and began pouring the spaghetti into a strainer in the sink. “I’ll do better next time.” She should have figured that Markus wasn’t a carb fan, given what wasn’t in the freezer or pantry. The spaghetti and garlic bread were probably something John had bought and never got around to eating. “I’m guessing that means you don’t like cookies, either.”

“I love cookies. I just don’t eat them.” He resumed scrolling through his messages.

“Really?” Cassidy set the salad on the table. She could turn anyone into a cookie aficionado and resolved to turn Markus into one before he left and went back to White House duties. “My favorite cookies in the whole wide world are Mallomars, the ones with the soft cookie base and the marshmallow, all covered in dark chocolate. What’s your favorite?”

“The ones with the Hershey’s Kisses stuck in the middle.” The corners of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly but still a million miles from being a full-fledged smile, and his eyes lit with something she couldn’t decipher. “My mother used to make them for me.” Something about the way he said it made her think it was a fond memory.

“Does she still make them for you?”

The light in his eyes died instantly, turning to one of sorrow, if she wasn’t mistaken. “She passed away when I was six.”

“Oh.” Idiot. “I’m sorry. What about your father?”

Markus’s eyes went cold. “He’s dead, too.”

“Again, I’m sorry.” There was definitely a story there, one he clearly wasn’t about to expound on. The man barely talked about anything as it was.

“Forget it,” he said, tearing off a hunk of bread.

To cover for the awkward moment, she set the table with plates, napkins, and silverware she dug from a cabinet. After putting out the rest of the food, she sat opposite Markus. She expected him to dig right in, but he didn’t.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said. “But thank you. For dinner and for taking the deal. I didn’t think you would.”

“The money was too good to pass up.” And she really did like helping him, even if he was a sourpuss. The garlicky smells wafting from the bread were making her mouth water, so she pulled off a slice. “Not that I’m a penny pincher or anything, but I’ve got bills to pay and a house that needs a lot of work. Hugh and I were going to—”

An icy lump formed in the pit of her stomach. She took a bite of the bread, which now tasted bitter and dry. She could talk the pants off a preacher but didn’t want to talk about Hugh, not even to her family. The pain was still too raw.

She chewed then swallowed. “Uh, anyway… After I finished paying off all my medical bills, I was completely tapped out, and I refuse to take charity from my family. They shouldn’t have to be my personal bank. They were there for me every step of the way, and that’s what matters most. You know?” She didn’t know how she would have gotten through all the surgeries without their love and support. Love and support Hugh hadn’t been there to give.

He stared at her a moment longer then reached for the salad.

“No, let me.” She served up dinner so Markus wouldn’t overreach and stretch his new sutures. As they munched in silence, she looked around the beautiful kitchen, admiring all the other new stainless-steel appliances, granite counters, pretty tile backsplash, and couldn’t stop the sigh escaping her lips. Being single as John was, now she knew what he spent most of his paycheck on.

“What?” Markus asked.

“This is my dream kitchen.” After John had shown it to them, Hugh promised to renovate her kitchen to look just like this one. Being a general contractor, he could have made that happen. Her chest tightened as she thought of all the plans they’d made. And canceled.