Free How Cassie Got Her Grind Back by Heather Rainier Page B

the table, away from the crowd, and tipped her chin up as he gazed at her. “Past your prime? I wonder what Samson would say if he knew you felt that way.”
    “But you won’t tell him, will you?”
    Ivan shrugged noncommittally and gently squeezed her upper arms. “You’re not past your prime. This is your renaissance, gorgeous. It’s your time. And ours.”
    With that, he guided her back to the table, his words echoing in her head. Ours. Ours. Ours.
    Ours, who?
    Did he mean his and Samson’s? Or his, Samson’s…and hers?
     
    * * * *
     
    “You okay, Cassandra?” Samson asked when Ivan escorted her back to their table and helped her into a chair.
    She smiled and fanned herself as she sipped from a glass of ice water. “I just got thirsty and needed to catch my breath.”
    The crowd had packed the place, and he nodded as he looked around. He wanted to get her out of there so they could talk to her, but he didn’t want her to miss out on seeing their friends, like Andrew Portman, who’d flown out especially for the reunion from Orlando, Florida. Andrew had explained his wingman status while she’d been on the dance floor, and Samson hadn’t been surprised she’d stood with him when his ex-wife had arrived earlier. He also felt a little guilty she’d borne the brunt of Dorene’s ugliness without them there.
    Lydia returned from the buffet line with plates laden with slices of cake, and she grinned at Cassie. “I can tell this is yours, Cassie. One of these days I’m going to convince you to tell me what your secret is.”
    Cassie’s eyes sparkled at the compliment. “Thanks! Come over sometime and I’ll show you. I’m making the cake for Violet’s wedding on Saturday.”
    Samson caught Ivan’s glance and frowned. “You’re busy next weekend?”
    Cassandra nodded. “I stay pretty busy in the fall. But the wedding is in the early afternoon, so I should be free for the evening.” She sipped her drink, and then her gaze fluttered to his before looking away.
    “Will you save that evening for us?”
    “I will,” she replied, her eyes twinkling as she took another sip of her ice water.
    “Ivan,” Lydia called from across the big square table. “You look familiar to me, but I’m not sure from where.”
    Samson took a swig from his drink, remembering what Chance and Clayton had told him she did for a living. “You’re a chef, aren’t you, Lydia?”
    Lydia nodded and then gasped and pointed to Ivan. “ Chef !”
    “Austin?” Ivan said with laughter in his voice, and she nodded and trotted around the table to him. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?” he said as he rose from his chair and hugged her back.
    “I didn’t recognize you with shorter hair,” she said. “Are you still teaching?”
    Ivan shook his head. “No, I wanted to get back to running a kitchen fulltime, or at least I thought I did.” He rubbed his knee, and Samson’s knee gave a sympathy twinge.
    That was the first he’d heard of Ivan wanting out of the fast pace of fulltime restaurant work.
    Cassandra excused herself to visit the ladies’ room, and after the conversation had moved on to other topics, Samson nudged Ivan with an elbow. “You’d consider retiring?”
    Ivan leaned toward him. “Not completely, but the hours are getting old, and so is my knee.” He looked to see if Cassandra was near and added, “So is going home to a dark, empty house.”
    “I know what you mean.”
    “I wouldn’t consider it, except my investments are doing well. It’s a good thing Mom and Dad taught us how to manage money and not go into debt, considering the way things are nowadays.”
    “Thank God. Things are good with me, too, though I don’t squeak when I walk like you do.”
    “I’m not tight. I’m frugal,” Ivan said with a chuckle. “Why did you ask about me retiring? Not you too?” His brother’s expression was incredulous.
    “I know. It’d drive me crazy to not have work, but the stress of the job and this