Free Defending Hearts by Shannon Stacey

it hadn’t worked out. His lifestyle wasn’t conducive to a long-term relationship, and changing that lifestyle would put one hell of a dent in his ability to sustain his career.
    But he didn’t go into that. It would be a douche-bag move to bring up his divorce when Chase was so damn happy to be talking about marriage. So he took a sip of his drink and then shrugged. “Maybe someday.”
    “Enough relationship crap. Let’s talk football. While you were watching through that lens, did anybody really stand out this morning?”
    —
    W hen Cocoa turned a couple of joyful circles with her tongue hanging out before heading for the back door, Gretchen knew Alex was home. The dog recognized the sound of his Jeep and, naturally, she could hear it before her or Gram.
    Not quite a week and the dog already considered Alex a part of the family, Gretchen mused as she saved the budget file she’d been working on and pushed away from the computer desk. She hated budgets and computers and being inside, but she forced herself to do it once a week anyway and used self-bribery if necessary. Tonight she was going to watch a favorite action movie for what was probably the twentieth time, but only if she got the stupid budget done.
    Rubbing the back of her neck, she walked into the kitchen just in time to see Cocoa’s tail disappear out of the screen door she’d pushed open. “Alex is back.”
    Gram slid on a mitt and opened the oven door. “I figured he must be home when Cocoa went jogging through.”
    Frowning, Gretchen pulled three napkins out of the rack and started setting the table. As she added the silverware and plates, she wondered what—if anything—it meant that it bugged her how Gram used the word
home
when it came to Alex. At the end of the day, Gretchen would say he was
back
, while her grandmother said he was home.
    It was a subtle difference, maybe, but she preferred the separation. It was hard enough, with Gram and Cocoa acting like he was the long-lost member of the family they’d been waiting for forever, to keep a line drawn in the sand between them. Landlord. Tenant. It should be easy enough to stay on her own side of the line.
    But when Alex walked through the door and his gaze sought hers immediately, she felt as if his smile was a wave washing away the line she’d so carefully drawn. “Hey, Gretchen. Ida.”
    “You have perfect timing,” Gram said, pulling a meatloaf out of the oven. “That just needs to sit for a few minutes and then I’ll slice it up.”
    “It smells delicious. Just give me a few seconds and I’ll make up a salad.”
    Once he’d gone, Cocoa on his heels, Gretchen went to the fridge and started pulling out the salad fixings. She’d start on the salad to save time. Alex had gone grocery shopping several days before and stocked the fridge with fruits and vegetables. Since then, they’d gotten in the habit of having salad with their supper.
    Gretchen hadn’t missed his little tricks for cutting back on Gram’s food without having to say something that might hurt her feelings or make her feel as if she needed to change the way she cooked. For instance, he claimed it saved on hand-washing dishes if he just put his salad right on his dinner plate, but Gretchen saw the way he used the mound of lettuce and various veggies to minimize the amount of space for the rest of the meal. And he always ate the first helping of salad and took seconds before starting on Gram’s food.
    It was sweet, she thought as she sliced a cucumber. He must have recognized how important feeding her family—and her tenant—was to Gram, so he went out of his way to find a way to balance his eating habits with her cooking habits.
    By the time Alex walked back into the kitchen, the salad was almost done and Gretchen had worked herself into feeling a serious case of the warm and fuzzies for him. It made her smile at him and initiate the conversation for once.
    “How did tryouts go? Did you get some good