Family Ties

”

“How can you be so calm about all this?” she asked. “You’re slowly tearing down everything I believe.”

“I’m not tearing down. Let’s say… I’m ‘remodeling.’”

“What if I don’t like it when you’re done?”

“Then we’ll remodel some more, until we find something we both can live with.”

“You’re changing me as much as I’m changing you,” I said.

“Maybe you’re right. But I genuinely want you to be happy.”

“It isn’t nonsense and you know it. Now, I need to get dinner in the oven.

Can I have that kiss before I do?”

“I’ll pout.” I suited actions to words.

She tried not to smile but eventually gave in. I fixed my expression and looked into her eyes. She gazed back, and I felt something click between us, deep and very satisfying. She must have felt it too, because she caressed my cheek.

“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you,” she said, before her eyes flashed with mischief. “Then I realize I must’ve been a bad girl and you’re my punishment.”

She held my face in her hands and lingered over the touch of our lips.

After a moment I lifted her off the counter and she locked her legs around me. The little head thought sex on the kitchen table was imminent.

“Um, I hate to interrupt,” Wren said from behind me, “but are we gonna

Christy squawked and hid her face in the hollow of my neck.

“Trip and I need to get some food in us,” Wren continued, “or we’re gonna be seriously drunk.”

“Sorry,” I laughed, “serious discussion.”

“I can see that,” she said dryly. She nodded at the broiler pan with the tuna steaks. “You want me to put those in the oven for you?”

“Would you mind? And set the timer for three minutes?”

“I have to do everything around here,” she muttered, although she wasn’t really upset. After she finished with the oven, she went to the pantry and pulled out two more bottles of wine. She put them in the refrigerator, next to the two already chilled.

“Um… that’s a lot of wine,” I said.

“And we’re a lot of wine drinkers.” She waved goodbye and returned to Trip and the music.

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said, “I can’t believe she caught us.”

“I know, right? Boyfriends and girlfriends kissing! What’ll we think of next? Sex on the kitchen table, that’s what!”

“Be that way, Mr. Sarcastic.”

I squeezed her ass and pulled her against me.

Her crotch met the muscles of my abdomen, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

“I’m sorry… you were saying?”

“Okay,” she said after, “you can set me down now.”

I glanced toward the stove. “Not for another… two minutes. Till then, you’re mine!”

She rolled her eyes and suffered another kiss. Or two. Minutes.

“Okay,” I said at last, “now I really do have to put you down.”

“I’m sorry you had to do everything by yourself,” she said as I flipped the tuna.

“Nah, it’s okay.” I added the steamer insert to the pot of boiling water.

“More important for you to spend some quality time with Wren.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I set the timer on the stove.

She squeaked when I put my hands under her arms and lifted her into the

air, but she locked her legs around me again. I caressed her ass through her jeans and felt her tense with pleasure.

“Three whole minutes?”

“Stop wasting time. Kiss me!”

We were still kissing when the timer went off. I reluctantly set her on her feet again.

“Want me to tell them dinner’s ready?” she asked.

“Not yet. I’m supposed to ‘rest’ the steaks, whatever that means. Let ’em cool off for five or ten minutes, I guess. Besides, the vegetables need more time too.” I grinned at her. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I furrowed my brow. “No. Sex on the kitchen table. Duh.”

“Not till we’re married.”

“Oh? So we’re playing that game again?” I nodded slowly. “I see.”

“Ah, right! I forgot.”

She rolled her eyes.

I grinned and leaned down to whisper, “Things are gonna happen long before we’re married. And that includes fucking you on the kitchen table.”

“That was really good,” Wren said when she folded her napkin. “Thank you, Paul.”

“You’re welcome. It was simple. And Betty Crocker really deserves the credit.”

“Betty Crocker is actually pretty good. Besides, sometimes simple is best.”

“I was going to ask you to get another bottle of wine,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh. Okay. I thought…”

“No, sweetheart,” she said earnestly, “I’ll never call you simple.

Hardheaded and obnoxious, maybe, but never simple.”

“In that case, lemme fetch another bottle of wine.” He returned a minute later and began pouring. “So, this is about the time when my scheming sweetheart gives me the sign to start a conversation. Tonight’s subject is New Year’s. Feel free to discuss.”

His scheming sweetheart looked positively perturbed.