My Stubborn Heart by Becky Wade Read Free Book Online

dinner. Any regular person would have taken the hint and stopped inviting him days ago. But Kate asked him every single day. She might be petite and friendly, but she was also unbelievably persistent.
    â€œC’mon,” she said. Threading her fingers together, she raised her joined hands to him, mock begging. “Please.” She cocked her head and smiled persuasively. “Just one little dinner, Matt. It would make Gran so happy. What do you say? Just one dinner? Please?”
    In that moment, looking into her hopeful expression, he’d been unable to say no. His vocal cords had agreed before his brain had any say.
    Afterward, he couldn’t believe he’d said yes. Just thinking about eating dinner with them made him uncomfortable. Should he dress up? Bring something? Were they going to ask him questions he didn’t want to answer? He’d much rather stay home and eat a sandwich.
    But it was too late for that. He had to go.

    When Matt knocked on the kitchen door that night, Kate hurried over to answer it and found him on the threshold, holding a bouquet of flowers and looking completely unsure of himself.
    Tenderness stirred within her. “Hi,” she said, trying to act like having him over for dinner wasn’t the huge deal that it was. “C’mon in.”
    â€œMatt!” Gran bustled over to greet him. “Welcome, welcome. My fingers are covered with food, but here,” she leaned into him and wrapped her upper arms around him while keeping her hands safely splayed in midair, “let me hug you.” She pulled back, beaming.
    Without his ball cap he looked different to Kate, more formal. The cheery kitchen light picked out glossy strands in his dark hair, still damp from a shower. He was wearing a brown knit sweater that had a short zipper at the neck. Through the V of the zipper Kate could see the neckline of a white T-shirt underneath. “Umm . . . these are for you both,” he said, extending the flowers.
    Because Gran’s fingers had crepe stuffing on them, Kate moved forward and took the flowers from him. “Thank you. Wow, they’re beautiful. I’ll find a vase.”
    â€œOh, they’re lovely ,” Gran said. “Just lovely! Thank you so much.”
    He nodded, put his hands in his pockets.
    â€œWell, come on.” Gran motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen counter, where she was fully in the throes of cooking. “Wash your hands so I can put you to work.”
    He hesitated for a moment, but did as he was told.
    Kate smiled to herself. Poor, poor Matt. He may once have been a warrior on the ice, accustomed to body-slamming giant men, but he wasn’t equal to the coming onslaught from Gran. He was going down.
    She located a crystal vase, filled it with water, and pretended she knew how to arrange the bouquet of ivory hydrangeas and white roses.
    Gran resumed stuffing crepes with a mixture of sautéed mushrooms in a creamy sauce, chicken strips, and Monterey Jack cheese. Her two stone bracelets clicked together rhythmically. Just this week she’d made herself a long string of mauve and purple beads, which she wore behind her neck, the ends attached to the earpieces of her glasses. She’d taken to whipping her glasses off and letting them drop down, only to slide them back on a half second later. At the moment the glasses were in the “on” position and the beads were swinging from side to side. “I could use three or so more crepes, Matt. Would you mind cooking them up for me? The batter’s just there.”
    Matt paused in the act of drying his hands. He eyed the oiled skillet, the spoonula, and the mixing bowl of batter the way a kindergartner might an algebra problem.
    Kate swallowed an unkind giggle and went to work setting the kitchen table.
    â€œI . . . uh . . . I don’t cook,” he finally said.
    Gran whirled on him. “Don’t