“Sorry we’re late,” she said when she pulled back. Ashlyn kept her hand on his upper arm to make sure he didn’t fall over. For eighty-eight, he was surprisingly mobile, but she didn’t want to take any chances that he’d stumble.
“You’re not late, you’re right on time!” James exclaimed. “I just made a new pot of coffee. Can you come in for a while?”
Ashlyn would’ve scolded him for how much coffee he drank, but the one time she’d brought it up, he told her that he’d been drinking two pots of the stuff every day his entire life and he wasn’t about to stop now.
“We’d love to stay for a bit,” Ashlyn reassured him. “James, I want you to meet Slate. He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”
“He the SEAL?” James asked.
Ashlyn did her best to hide her smile. Slate had told her it would be okay to tell James what he did for a living, and it somewhat amused her that he’d yet to speak directly to him. “Yes. This is him.”
James’s gaze turned to Slate. He stood up a little straighter and brought his hand up to his forehead in a salute. “Pleased to meet you.”
Slate returned the salute with one of his own. “I’ve heard you’ve got some damn good stories about your time in the service,” he said.
Ashlyn felt James relax in her grip. It was obvious he’d been nervous to meet Slate. He’d told Ashlyn that he didn’t get out much anymore and had a hard time connecting with younger people.
“I bet you’ve got some stories of your own,” James said.
“That I do,” Slate agreed with a nod.
“Well, come on, don’t stand out here on the front stoop all day. I’ll get us all some coffee and we can talk.”
“How about you and Slate sit, and I’ll get the coffee?” Ashlyn suggested. She knew from experience that James liked his coffee very strong and very black. If she was going to choke it down, she needed to doctor hers up a bit.
“Fine, fine. We’ll just go and relax then,” James said.
Ashlyn reached for the bag Slate was holding. He smoothly transferred it to her while taking hold of James’s elbow at the same time, to make sure he didn’t fall. The move was so casual, she suspected James didn’t feel as if he was being treated like an invalid.
Slate nodded at her, and Ashlyn couldn’t help but see the approval and admiration in his eyes when he held her gaze for a moment. He led James into the house. It was small and cluttered, but clean. Ashlyn knew he had someone who came in every other day to take care of small chores around the house, and to make sure James was eating.
Slate got him settled in the recliner he obviously preferred to sit in, and took a seat on the couch across from the older man. Ashlyn heard them immediately start talking about life onboard a Naval ship and what countries they’d been to.
Smiling, she put the bag with the lemon pepper chicken breast on the counter and opened the cabinet to get out two coffee mugs. James’s mug was already sitting on the counter, stained brown from many years of use. Ashlyn had been appalled the first time she’d seen it and tried to scrub out the stains, but it was no use. She figured if drinking out of the mug hadn’t done James in yet, it wasn’t worth her worry.
She put his chicken on a plate, along with the sides, wanting to make sure James ate before they left, and after heating it in the microwave, she cut the chicken into bite-size pieces. James could cut up his own food, but had admitted once that his wife used to do the same thing for him, and how much he missed the small gesture. She poured the dark coffee into mugs. Fairly certain Slate wouldn’t mind the strong brew, she added sugar only to her own.
She took the coffee out to the men first, smiling to herself when James barely even looked at her. She didn’t mind though, it was nice to see him so excited to talk to someone who could truly appreciate his history.
Then she brought out the plate to James, and handed him a fork. He didn’t miss a beat in the story he was telling Slate about his time on the USS Maddox and when they’d faced down three Vietnamese torpedo boats back in the sixties. Just shoveled the first bite of chicken into his mouth and kept talking.
Slate met her gaze again, his eyes twinkling with humor, before taking a sip of the coffee and returning his attention to the older man.
Ashlyn wandered back into the kitchen, not wanting to intrude on the “guy time” going on in the other room. She loved hearing James’s stories, but had heard most of them more than once. Looking around the kitchen more closely, she frowned. It didn’t seem as if James’s helper had done much when he’d been there yesterday. From what she understood, Aiden Quinlan came on Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday to help James out.
She’d met him only once, and Ashlyn wasn’t sure what to think of the man. He was Slate’s height, around six-two, and about the same age as well, in his early thirties. He had blond hair and blue eyes, had been pretty quiet when she met him…but for some reason, he just rubbed Ashlyn the wrong way. She couldn’t say why, exactly. It was just a gut feeling. James seemed to like him, so she’d kept her opinion to herself.
But lately when she stopped by, it seemed as if the house wasn’t being taken care of as well as it should’ve been. Peeking into the half bathroom off the kitchen, Ashlyn wrinkled her nose. The roll of toilet paper was empty, the trash was full, and the toilet lid was up. It was obvious the room hadn’t been cleaned in a while.
She headed back into the kitchen to grab some paper towels and cleanser. While James and Slate were talking, she might as well pass the time by cleaning up a bit.
Half an hour later, the bathroom was clean, as was the kitchen. She’d washed the dishes sitting in the sink and had thrown away the spoiled food in the refrigerator. She’d even gone into James’s room and collected his dirty clothes and started a load in the washer.
A knock on the door surprised her, and Ashlyn stepped into the living room where James and Slate had been talking nonstop. She blinked in surprise at seeing Aiden standing there. As far as she knew, he wasn’t scheduled to come by on Wednesdays.
“Oh, hi. I thought you’d be gone already,” Aiden said when he spotted Ashlyn.
She walked into the room and shrugged. “I rearranged my delivery schedule so Slate could meet James.”
“Hey. Good to meet you,” Aiden said, even though he hadn’t been introduced yet. “I just stopped by to check on you, James, since you said your legs were hurting yesterday,” Aiden continued.
“Your legs hurt?” Ashlyn asked in concern.
“It’s not a big deal,” James said, waving off their concerns. “I’m eighty-eight, I’m allowed to have aches and pains.”
“Have you talked to your doctor?” she asked.
“Not yet. If it continues, I will,” James reassured her.
“Well, since it looks like you’re good, I’ll be heading out,” Aiden said, using his thumb to point at the front door he’d just entered.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Ashlyn asked quickly.
A look of impatience crossed Aiden’s face.
“It won’t take long,” she told him.
“Fine.”
“We can talk in the kitchen,” she said, when it didn’t look like Aiden was going to move from his spot next to the door.