Free Command by Sierra Cartwright Page B

work. “How about we take a break?”
    “My tres leches is wearing off,” she admitted.
    “I’ll pour you a glass of wine while I make dinner.”
    “Those sound like two of my favorite things.”
    He had her use the palm plate to let them out of the room.
    She preceded him down the hallway, and she almost missed a step when she saw the dog curled up in front of the fireplace. “That’s still freaky,” she said.
    She stopped, and Grant did the same, standing next to her.
    “From here, it actually looks like he’s breathing.”
    “He is. Molly, have the dog lift up his head.”
    “ Yes, Your Majesty .”
    The animal lifted its head, looked around then put it back down on the rug.
    “I still think he needs a name,” Aria said.
    “Feel free.”
    “It needs to represent who he is. Maybe a play on words.”
    “Why does it matter to you?”
    She got quiet. “I guess it shouldn’t, but for some reason, it does. He’s part of the family.”
    That comment surprised him. “Is he?”
    “Molly has a name,” she countered.
    “And?”
    “It makes things feel more personal.”
    “That’s important to you?”
    He began to think she wouldn’t answer. “I’ve thought about getting a dog, but I just never seem to get around to it. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be less busy.”
    “And?” he encouraged gently. He suspected she was revealing considerably more about herself than she had originally planned.
    “I’ve spent a lot of years focused on where I’m going that I wonder if I have sight of what’s really important. My friends, my parents…”
    She paused. He waited.
    “I spend time with them, but I could probably nurture the connections more. Maybe I should think about getting a pet. But not a hologram one.”
    He appreciated what she’d shared. He, too, knew the trade-offs, the questions. The fact she’d opened up made him question some of his own decisions. Her visit was impacting him in ways he would have never thought possible.
    “Dinner?” she prompted.
    He was surprised by how much he wanted to cook a meal and share it with her.
    Once they were in the kitchen, she said, “What can I do to help?”
    “Be properly appreciative of my culinary skills.”
    “That , I can do. Applause? Or just sounds of approval?”
    “All of that.” He grinned. “Just relax.”
    “You’re serious?” She leaned her hips against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “I came here to work, not to take a vacation.”
    “You can cook another time.”
    “I’ll wait until the snow clears then have Molly arrange for take-out pizza.”
    “How did I know you’d say that?”
    “I’m an excellent helper, though. Don’t they call the person who runs and fetches a sous chef?”
    “I’ve got other ideas of roles for you to fill.”
    His tone told her exactly what they were. Like it had earlier, the idea intrigued her, but she wished it didn’t. She shoved the images aside. She wasn’t here to be his lover, and definitely not his submissive.
    “Any preference on wine?” he asked, crouching to open the built-in wine refrigerator.
    “Anything is fine.” Just something to distract her or, better yet, take away the sudden edge of desire.
    “Red or white?”
    “White.”
    “Sweet or dry?” He glanced up.
    “Could you make this any more complicated?”
    “I like to take care of my guests.”
    “I can only imagine,” she said. “Sweet. The wine, that is. Not your innuendos.”
    “In case you were confused, that was an invitation, not an innuendo.” He grabbed a bottle. “Chardonnay, it is.”
    “I’ll get the glasses.” She took two from a cupboard.
    When Julien had told him she was arriving, he hadn’t expected to feel this easy with her being in his space. He wasn’t missing work, in fact, his mind was going in a couple of new directions since talking to her.
    He uncorked the bottle and set it aside while she went around to sit on the other side of the counter.
    “What are we