Free Mr. Wrong (A Homespun Romance) by Geeta Kakade

her head and told her he was still asleep.  Her throat clogged at the memory of his reaction to her reminisces.  Kate marveled again at the way he could project himself into the very core of her being.  Sensing immediately that she didn’t want to conduct a detailed post mortem on her early years, he had offered solace without saying a word.  For the first time in her life she felt as if some of the weight of her early years had diminished, leaving her curiously light hearted.
    She closed her eyes, snuggling into him carefully, loving the feel of him against her.  How could touching Harold have been such a chore whereas with Brady she couldn’t get enough? 
    When he awoke Brady unpacked the hamper and they ate a late lunch of roast chicken, asparagus, potato salad, buttermilk biscuits and a heavenly dessert of port wine peaches and vanilla ice cream in its own cooler.  A chilled bottle of sparkling cider washed it all down.  Brady didn’t tell her what everything was in a lofty tone like Harold would have to impress her good fortune upon her; he just named the dessert when she asked what it was. 
    Brady told her what growing up with Cody’s Mum had been like, making her laugh at his insistence that his sister had accused him of more things than he had been capable of.
    The laugh arrested Brady.  She was so beautiful when she laughed like that.  He loved her so much.  At times like this, he wished they had never progressed from the Neolithic Age.  He would have loved to throw Katie over his shoulder and take her back to his cave right that minute.
    Listening to him, Kate didn’t feel like Grimm’s little match girl on the outside staring in.  Instead she felt warmed by the happiness woven through Brady’s voice. She prayed that one day her children would use the same tone when they talked of their growing up years.  Raising a happy family would be her own salvation.
    Brady carried the basket back to the car after feeding the faithful gull the remaining food, giving Kate the time she needed to slip on her pants. 
    They collected shells, competing to find the best.  Brady filled an empty grocery bag he’d found in the trunk of his car with the fine white sand for her. 
    At four, prodded by an incipient chill in the air he reluctantly suggested they leave, fiercely glad when he saw a reflection of the same reluctance in her eyes as she looked out onto the water as if taking a final picture to remember the day by.
    “We’ll come back,” he thought, "but it will never be the same .”
    Like a schoolboy, he wanted to carve the date on a rock with the inscription, leave it there for the world to see, `This is the day Katie let me into her heart.'
    “Katie, have dinner with me,” he said as they reached her apartment.
    “No,” she said firmly and for a moment he thought she had retreated behind the stony barrier again.  "You have dinner with me tonight Brady.  You can’t keep spending money like this.”
    Disproportionately pleased at the first invitation from her Brady grinned, “I’ll take a rain check on that Katie.  You’re not slaving over a hot stove on your birthday, woman.  I’ve got a really special place in mind.  We’re going out tonight and if you say one word about going Dutch I’ll strangle you.”
    Kate stared out of the windshield at the Pacific Coast Highway as if it had suddenly turned into Dorothy’s yellow brick road.  She hated being bossed around.  Any words couched like an order inspired the fiercest resentment in her.  Yet here she was, meekly complying with whatever Brady said and what was even worse, liking it thoroughly.  Soon he’d have her purring with delight.
    “I’ll pick you up in an hour’s time,” Brady said as he drew up in front of the Guthrie's' place.
    Kate showered and dried her hair a bit before going through her wardrobe.  Nothing she had seemed right for this evening.  Pushing each outfit aside she stared at the last dress on the