She heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway as he drove up. She glanced at the clock. He was right on time. No excuse to grumble at him, but she felt like grumbling. Couldn't he even give her a good reason to be in a bad mood?
The door was opening. She heard him whistling a bit. He was sorting through the mail that she had left on the small table near the front door. The dog scampered into the hallway to greet him. "Hey, boy, what adventures have you had today? That's a good dog." She could tell from the thump, thump, thump of the dog's tail that he was scratching it in its favorite spot just behind the ears. Well, if he thought she'd be giving him a friendly greeting with tail wagging, he had another think coming. After all, she had her pride.
He was headed toward the kitchen now. His shoes had been left behind at the door, but she could hear him padding toward her in stockinged feet.
"Hey, Sweetie. How'd the day go?" He pulled her back against his chest and she could feel his warm breath at her ear. No, she would not give in so easily. She continued to peel the potatoes as if her life depended on completing the mundane task. "Hmm." He still had his mouth close to her ear. "Maybe you need an injection of happy juice!"
She pulled away as his tongue poked into her ear sending little shivers up her spine. She tried not to grin and took a step back saying, "Take your hands off of me you filthy beast!" How could she stand her ground when he stood there with that half grin of his. Honestly, she had a reason for being miffed. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. He was not taking her seriously at all!
"Ah, an exposst neckk!" He lunged for the other side of her neck now. Why hadn't she worn a turtleneck or something instead of the peasant top he liked? Her expanse of skin above the blouse gave him too large a target. Using her forearm to stave off any attacks on her neck, she turned around toward him.
He looked at her innocently, yet she could from his downward glance that there was increasing interest. She determined not to give up yet. She pouted.
"You men think sex will solve anything!" she rolled her eyes to emphasize her point. At the mention of the word sex, his eyes widened and she could feel her heart beat just a bit faster. But he appeared to be considering her remark and did not pull her closer.
"No," he replied, "sometimes you need a toilet plunger..." In spite of her resolve to be aloof, she sputtered a laugh. "How on earth would you use a toilet plunger?" she asked.
"Well, not for sex, that's for sure." He moved a step closer and she could see a twinkle in his eyes. "I just don't want you to think sex is the cure for everything." He was leering at her now. "We could try it in the bathroom, though, if you want..."
She felt warmth creep up from her legs to her belly. Looking at him and seeing the combination of pure affection and healthy lust in his eyes made her knees weaken. This was dangerous territory. She had to get back to the point she wanted to make. Point out the obvious, then move to a new topic, she thought.
"We already do it often enough in the shower. Anyplace else in the bathroom would beΒ um, exposed."
He smiled again and pulled her closer to him. She relented a bit and put her head on his shoulder. She felt secure. Then she remembered and stood upright. She turned back to the potatoes. "Men!" she thought to herself.
He stood next to her and started to put away the dishes. At every opportunity he casually touched her-hip, arm, shoulder. She revived her nearly forgotten grumpy state of mind. "So, don't I keep the kitchen clean enough for you that you have to do my job?"
He looked at her sideways and raised an eyebrow. "Yup, Maybe I'll have to eat you-er, beat you for it." Hah, she thought. No nibbling on this neck, fellah, until she had made her point. He continued, "Or maybe you could say I'm eliminating excuses for later. Or you could say I'm just being nice because you've had a hard day..."
"That's
it
," she thought. "He acts as if he has no idea about what is wrong." She threw a potato peeling at him. Hadn't he sensed how uncomfortable she had been when that Bonnie Homewrecker Louvesque had cornered them on the way out of church yesterday? She sighed and paused. The potato she had been peeling was now half its original size. She hadn't realized how upset the memory of the conversation had left her. "It's that Bonnie Louvesque woman. She thinks she's so perfect, and the men drool over her." She thought of the petite, bubbly, well-endowed blonde who wore low-cut necklines and found plenty of reasons to bend over to pick things up. She'd seen the eyes of several men follow Bonnie's movements more than once before.
