Family Ties

“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?”

“Can’t remember.”

I kissed her again.

“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.

“Much better,” I said. “Now you can spend some quality time with me. At least another three minutes.”

“Three whole minutes?”

“Stop wasting time. Kiss me!”

She did.

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?”

“More kissing?”

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.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me that things will happen long before we’re married?”

“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.”

“Oh my gosh!”

I gave her time to imagine it. Then I spun her around and patted her bottom. “Now you can tell them dinner’s ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

“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.”

“Whaddya lookin’ at me for?” Trip asked.

“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.

“Hey,” he said unapologetically, “you mentioned hardheaded and obnoxious. Thought I’d live up to my reputation.” He refilled his own wineglass and sat down heavily.

He was a lot drunker than I realized. Wren and Christy were too, for that matter, while I was still nursing only my second glass.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably.

“Oh, gimme a break,” Trip told Wren. “Paul isn’t dumb. He knows it’s a setup. But this time it’s out in the open. ’Sides,” he took a sip of wine, “I told

’im about it earlier.”

That snapped her out of it. “You what?”

“Told him,” he said mulishly. “Didn’t think it was fair for you to steamroll him like that.”

“I think the trip is a great idea,” Christy said out of the blue.

I looked at her in confusion.

“What?” she said. “I love skiing. And Squaw Valley’s beautiful.”

“Hold that thought,” I told her quickly. Wren was already drawing breath for an angry jab at Trip. I sat forward and interjected myself before the situation turned ugly. “Stop, Wren. Think about what you’re going to say. I guarantee it isn’t worth it.” I turned to Trip. “She thinks you’re a wonderful guy.”

“’S not what she said,” he grumbled.

“But it’s what she really thinks.” I turned to her. “Isn’t it?”

She glared. I didn’t flinch, so she turned it up a notch.

“Lorelei Wren Hilliard,” I said mildly, “have you ever been able to intimidate me into doing what you want?”

Her glare sprouted daggers.

I calmly ignored them. “Have you?”

“No.”

“Then what makes you think now will be the first time?”

“But he—!”

“Uh-uh! We’re talking about you,” I said. “And what you meant to say was that Trip’s a wonderful guy.”

“I did not! I—”