Free Midnight Remedy by Eve Gaddy Page A

hand. “Better now?”
    A nod. “Yes. Well, I’ll let you get to work.”
    “Have Charlie make an appointment with Effie in a week to remove the stitches. See you later.”
    “All right. Eric?”
    He waited, his hand on the doorknob.
    “Thank you. If I’d had to go to Alpine  . . . ”
    “He would have been fine, Piper. But I’m glad I was here.” Tempted to cancel his next appointment, he forced himself to leave.
    It took her a day to work up the courage, but Piper asked Eric to dinner. As a thank you for caring for Charlie, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with wanting to see him again. She was simply being polite.
    Lasagna. The layered, mouth-wateringly rich beauty of it always charmed her, enough so that even though it was time-consuming to assemble, she liked making it. It was perfect, every calorie-laden inch of it waiting to be savored, indulged in, rolled over the tongue like a fine wine.
    The phone rang and she tracked it to the bookshelf in the living room, sandwiched between the latest mystery bestseller and a book detailing organic pesticides. After hanging up, she absently set it down on the top of the TV and walked back to the kitchen. Horrified, she stared at the sight before her. Jumbo, his gargantuan paws planted firmly on the drain board, slurped up her prizewinning lasagna with tail-wagging enthusiasm.
    “Jumbo, get down!” Grabbing a roll of paper towels, she whacked him on the head with it. Jumbo’s bushy tail brushed against her leg as he buried his snout more deeply into doggie nirvana. “Miserable mongrel!” She jerked on his collar with one hand and rained paper blows on his rocklike head with the other. Jumbo raised his head and belched.
    “Oh, my beautiful lasagna.” She moaned, almost in tears. Then she wrenched the dish out from under Jumbo’s rampaging mouth and threw it in the sink.
    Tongue lolling, his snout covered in tomato sauce and cheese, the dog regarded her hopefully. “You should at least have the decency to look contrite,” she said as she shoved him back outside. He stood at the back door and barked loudly.
    Hurriedly she set about making another casserole, but everything that went right with the first one went wrong with the second. Assembled, it looked like dog food hash, but it would have to do. The important thing was that it tasted good, she comforted herself. At four-thirty, she covered it with plastic wrap, slid it into the refrigerator, and left to salvage what she could out of the potting schedule she’d abandoned that morning.
    Two hours later she rushed into the house, having forgotten again about the broken clock in the greenhouse. “Grandpa,” she shouted on her way through the living room, where Charlie sat watching TV, “put the lasagna in the oven for me. I’m late.”
    “Now, Piper, you know I can’t cook worth a durn.”
    “Three seventy-five. Just pop it in, okay?”
    No shirts, dammit. Why hadn’t she ironed yesterday? Naked and dripping, she stood in front of her closet and wished she dared wear a dress, but Charlie would never let her hear the end of it, and Cole was likely to say something about why she was so dressed up. It was enough of a novelty that she’d invited a man to dinner.
    When the doorbell rang at precisely seven, Piper plastered a smile on her face, rubbed damp palms over her shorts and swung open the door. The words of greeting died on her lips. He wore a pair of stonewashed jeans and a crisp blue and white seersucker shirt sporting two huge, muddy paw prints on either side of his chest. One knee of his jeans was muddy, indicating he’d tried to protect himself with no success. Considering he was irritated as the dickens, she thought he looked quite handsome.
    “Oh, Eric, I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Jumbo’s on my list too.”
    His look of irritation vanished in a reluctant grin. “It’ll wash.” He handed her a bottle of wine. “I hope red’s okay. You didn’t tell me what