No Place for a Lady by Maggie Brendan

stopped short as
Crystal, with her back to him, bent over the stove and muttered
to herself, `A few minutes more ..
    Carmen was nowhere to be seen. Several pies, cooling in the
breeze, lined the windows. When Crystal turned she jumped.
"Oh! I didn't hear you come in;' she said, wiping her brow with
a flour-covered hand. Her hair, damp from the heat of the stove,
curled against the nape of her neck and at her temples. Her face
was flushed a rosy pink, making her green eyes stand out under
their thick lashes. She looked utterly domestic and feminine. She
stood there fanning herself with the bottom corners of her spattered apron.
    "If you're looking for Carmen, I told her to take a rest. She's
been up since dawn cooking," she said, dropping her apron. She
walked over to the sink, sunk her arms up to the elbows in hot
suds, and began washing pans.
    "No, I wasn't looking for Carmen." He took a knife from the
table and helped himself to a chunk of apple pie. It was delectable.
    Crystal glanced over her shoulder, then flung the dishrag into
the sink, sending suds and bubbles flying.

    "What do you think you're doing?" she yelled as his tongue
flicked around his moustache, reaching for the remains of the
pie. He gave her one of his incongruous grins, showing rows of
small, even teeth.
    "Carmen always lets me sample her fine cookin' Boy! Every
pie she cooks is better than the last one"
    He would have reached for another helping had Crystal allowed
him to, but she popped him on the forearm with a dish towel and
said, "Not another bite, Mr. Weber! Those are for the party, and
since I'm in charge of the kitchen right now, I suggest you take
your big paw off that pie:"
    Luke spun around and caught her arm. "Since when did you
start giving orders?" His arm stung from the dish towel. He wasn't
sure he liked this new Crystal.
    "Since I started doing the dishes," she retorted. He was standing so close that he could smell her lilac perfume, and he stared
into her green eyes. She yanked her arm from his grasp, and he
stepped aside to let her pass back to the stove, where black smoke
was billowing out.
    "Oh no! Now see what you made me do;' she cried as she flung
open the oven door. With the end of her apron, she pulled the blackened pie out and howled as the heat went right through her apron.
The pie fell to the floor, and she dropped in a heap next to it.
    Luke leaned back his head and roared with laughter. "Seems the
kitchen just isn't your cup of tea. Here, let me help." He reached
down and took her hand. It was red and already forming a blister.
It was so small and soft.
    "Ouch!" She groaned and bit her bottom lip. She pulled her
hand from his. "I can take care of it myself, Mr. Weber:'

    "Call me Luke. Mr. Weber sounds too formal, kind of like your
upbringing."
    "There's nothing wrong with my upbringing," Crystal said
through clenched teeth.
    "Well, I'll bet you learned how to pour tea but not how to make
it;' he teased her.
    "I couldn't care less what you think. It doesn't affect me one
way or the other"
    She got up and stepped to the pantry for a piece of muslin and
a mop and bucket. Luke leaned against the table with his arms
crossed and his hat pushed back. Did he have to watch her? He
always thought everything was funny. His dumb grin infuriated
her. She wrapped the muslin around her hand and began scooping up the remains of the pie into the slop bucket. And still he
watched, saying nothing.
    "Mr. Weber, if you have nothing better to do than to stand
around, maybe you'd like to take this out for me" She thrust the
slop bucket into his hand.
    "I don't do women's work, but I guess that makes two of us."
He laughed, took the bucket, and strode from the room, his spurs
jingling across the hardwood floor. Crystal attacked the floor with
fury, muttering under her breath. Something about him made her
feel inadequate. She wasn't sure why. His manners were deplorable, yet he made her feel silly.