Susan Crosby - I'm Your Man

“Barefoot and cooking,” she said, drawing their attention. “That’s the way it should be.”

“Hi, Grandma,” Riley said. He didn’t hop down from the chair to greet her, so she walked over and hugged him. “I’m making salad.”

“So, I see.” She eyed the bowl on the counter, filled halfway with chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, avocado and green onions.

“I have to dry the lettuce real good so the dressing sticks.”

“You’re doing a great job.” She looked at Daniel, wanting to set the right tone in front of Riley. “You didn’t need to make dinner. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s Riley’s favorite.”

“Papa’s a good cooker.”

“What is it?”

“Aubergine-and-black-bean chili,” Daniel said. “And there’ll be enough for leftovers for a couple of meals.”

“Aubergine? It sounds…purple.”

He laughed. “It’s another name for eggplant.”

“I see. You fancy up the name and it tastes better?”

“To the nonvegetarian, maybe. Oh, and we called your boyfriend and invited him for dinner, but we thought we’d surprise you. Why don’t you go change, and I’ll pour you a glass of wine?”

Geez, a girl could get used to this, she thought, a little dazed. She told herself she was giving in so easily to him sort of taking over her life and telling her what to do because she didn’t want things uncomfortable for Riley. Was it really a lie if you only lied to yourself?

Maureen stopped just inside her bedroom door. On her bed were a couple of small stacks of laundry, all neatly folded, including her bras and underwear. She moved closer, pictured him tucking the bra cups inside each other and folding her panties into neat little bundles. They weren’t overly sexy, just beige or black, and nothing lacy or push-up, but the thought of him handling her private things and having that kind of intimate knowledge of her embarrassed her like nothing else had in a very long time.

Feeling her face heat up, she shoved the clothes into drawers and changed into jeans, a blue-striped blouse and white sneakers. She touched a finger to her tongue, then rubbed a spot of dirt off one sneaker. She was stalling, not knowing what to say to Daniel that wouldn’t make her again sound like a shrew. But Riley was there, and she couldn’t get angry at Daniel in front of him over what would be perceived as a normal household chore.

She went into the kitchen, keeping her gaze on Daniel. He turned just his head toward her, capturing her gaze, then he let his take a slow journey down and back up.

“I didn’t have enough for a full load,” he said, anticipating her possible tirade, she supposed. “Seemed like a waste of water and energy not to do yours at the same time.”

Her full hamper had been sitting beside the washer. He couldn’t have missed it.

But he could’ve ignored it.

“I hung your…delicates on the line out back. Figured you probably didn’t put them in the dryer. Most women don’t, anyway.”

He was laughing at her. Oh, yes, he was having a great time at her expense.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said, finally finding her voice.

“Thank you?” He passed her a glass of merlot and kept his voice low. “You’re welcome, Double-D. I hope you’re going to invest in something a little more…lacy for the vacation.”

So, he’d even looked at the tag on her bra. “Not every man needs a crutch to arouse him,” she whispered, moving past him to where Riley was tearing up lettuce leaves and adding them to the salad bowl.

“Every man likes a woman who’s confident enough to want to please,” Daniel said. “We appreciate…effort.”

“That looks like a very good salad,” Maureen said to Riley. “Do you need any help?”

“I have everything under control,” he said, like a little adult, which made her smile.

“But if your grandma would like to set the table,” Daniel said, “that would be good.”

Maureen gathered plates, silverware and napkins. She stopped next to Daniel as she headed toward the dining room table. “You’re leaving right after dinner, right?”

“Of course.” He grinned, obviously liking the corner he’d backed her into. “Your boyfriend should be here any moment.”

“My boyfriend has a name, you know.”

“Yeah. But it’s more fun this way.”

She grabbed the plates a little tighter. “I thought we’d called a truce.”

“Are we arguing? I wasn’t arguing. I was being friendly.”

Her hands shook as she set the table. Why was she letting him get to her? She shouldn’t give him that kind of power, but just ignore him, or tease him back.

However, six years of antagonism couldn’t be erased in a day.

The doorbell rang. Grateful for the distraction, she hurried down the hall and opened the door.

“If I had my own key,” Ted said, “you wouldn’t have to—”

She flung herself into his arms, stopping any discussion about house keys. She had enough on her plate already.

“Well,” he said, kissing her hello. “I missed you, too.”

She wondered if he thought her underwear boring. Sex was fine between them. She had no complaints. Nor had he complained about the long T-shirt she wore to bed at night.

“This is nice,” Ted said, “having you home so early. I’ll bet Riley’s happy.”

Was that a subtle dig at her for not doing the same for him?

“It does feel good,” she said. “Although you know I’ve got a few hours of work ahead after he goes to sleep.”

“You don’t have to remind me. I’m aware of what’s expected.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this is hard on you.”

“I’m doing my best to be patient,” he said.

Her conversation with Cherie the night before flashed in her mind. Did she defer to him? How would he react if she didn’t?

And why did she, anyway? She liked to get along with people, but defer?

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