She tried not to squirm, but he
could see her discomfort. One of his brows quirked up.
Andy dished a helping of salad onto
her plate, careful not to look up at him.
He cut another bite off his chop.
Silence filled the room, tense and palpable, like the room was too small.
Reaching for his glass, he caught her sneaking a peak at him.
After several gulps of water, he
settled his glass back on the table, took his fork in one hand and his knife in
the other, and waited. She was only demure when she knew she was in the wrong.
When she realized he wasn’t eating,
her eyes met his. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “Is the pork okay?”
“Why do you want to go to some gas
station on the only night we don’t have to go to sleep at eight o-clock? You
usually want to…” He intentionally let the sentence drop and waggled his
eyebrows to make her blush. She was so cute when she was timid.
“We won’t need to stay late,” she
backpedaled, “I was talking to Nick about it and—”
“Oh, here we go,” he interrupted.
“This is about Nick isn’t it?”
She put her fork on the table.
“What’s your problem with Nick?”
He shook his head. “You told him
you’d invite that new coating girl, didn’t you?” He wasn’t asking, it was a
statement.
Andy’s chin came up. “She happens
to be the coating foreman.”
“Whatever,” he snorted, and went
back to cutting his meat.
Andy grinned wickedly. “She could
demand that you all address her as foreperson,
you know.”
Rooster snorted at her dilutional
comment.
Andy pursed her lips, knowing full
well that the pipeline was still in the 1950s when it came to women’s rights.
But she adjusted her train of thought and continued. “Why do you think this has
anything to do with me talking to Nick?”
His chewing stopped and he gave her
an oh please, look.
She cleared her throat and looked
away, poking a bite of salad onto her fork. “Okay, her name may have come up.”
Rooster took another long drink of
water.
“Would it kill us to be social?”
Andy retorted. “We never go anywhere but work.”
“We work eighty hours a week!”
“That’s beside the point,” she
huffed, sticking the forkful of salad in her mouth.
“Is it?”
She chewed and swallowed. “You just
don’t want to bother,” she said with a flounce.
“This is overcooked,” he muttered,
sawing away at his pork chop. It was dry and chewy, he’d done a poor job of it.
Dinner continued in silence with
both parties casting glances at the other, but neither one spoke. When they
finished eating, they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. Rooster ran
hot, soapy water as Andy scraped their scraps into the trash and returned to
the table for the rest of the dishes.
Silence reigned, leaving only the
sound of plates clinking and water running as Rooster washed and rinsed the
dishes, and Andy dried. When the dishes were washed, he drained the water and
watched as Andy put the last plate in the specially designed drawer. When she
turned back to him, he took up the end of her dishtowel, pulling her to him.
His hands circled her waist. “If you’d like me to take you out Saturday night,
just say so.”
Andy didn’t meet his eye.
But Rooster knew her well, and
still very much enjoyed her attitudes. He tilted her head up with an index
finger under her chin. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Losing all track of thought, Andy
fell under his spell. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted. She didn’t need
to say anything, he knew he had her.
Leaning down, he teased kisses
along her jaw, causing a moan to slip from her lips. Her arms came up to circle
his neck and his kisses wandered to her cheek, then her mouth.
Eagerly, she kissed him back,
deepening both the kiss and his desire. He scooped her up and carried her
toward the bedroom.
Andy leaned into his shoulder,
filled with anticipation. She nibbled at his neck, ran her fingers through his
hair, and a dreamy smile settled over her face.
He
placed her on the bed, certain that somewhere in that woman’s brain of hers,
she was already wondering what she’d wear on their Saturday night date to the
gas station.
Kirsten is a writer with a love of art and design. She
worked in the engineering field, taught college, and consulted free lance. Due
to health problems, she retired in 2012 to travel with her husband. They live
and work full time in a 40' travel trailer with their little dog Bingo. Besides
writing romance novels, she enjoys selling art on Etsy and spoiling their four
grandchildren.
As a writer, Kirsten's goal is to create strong female
characters who face challenging, painful, and sometimes comical situations. She
believes that the best way to deal with struggle, is through friendship and
women helping women. She knows good stories are based on interesting and
relatable characters.
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