Rude Awakening by Susan Rogers Cooper Page A

spit it out, but he’d stopped doing that in high school.
    â€˜You don’t like the braised fennel?’ Sarah asked.
    â€˜What’s that?’
    She pointed at the green stuff. Dalton shook his head apologetically, ‘Sorry. It takes like licorice,’ he said.
    â€˜You want to try some of mine?’ she asked.
    Dalton looked at her bacon-wrapped duck breast, sitting on what looked like baby food, and declined the invitation. As far as Dalton was concerned, the best part of the meal was the apple martinis Sarah kept ordering. They were, in his opinion, damn good.
    When the bill came, Dalton thought he might pass out from sticker shock, but managed to put down his Visa card like he knew what he was doing. He figured it would take two months to pay off this dinner.
    As they walked back to his truck, Dalton asked shyly, ‘Do you need to go home or be somewhere?’
    Sarah smiled. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Nowhere without you.’
    Dalton smiled back.
    Sarah directed him to a club she said she’d heard about. There they switched to mojitos. It was around midnight when Sarah took Dalton’s hand in hers and said, ‘I never thought I’d find a man so understanding. So macho. So gorgeous.’
    Dalton blushed. ‘Well, you’re really pretty.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Sarah said, smiling widely at him. Her shyness had diminished with the cocktails, Dalton noted. But then, so had his. Dalton reached forward and cupped the back of Sarah’s head, bringing her face toward him, and kissed her. Closed mouth, since it was the first kiss, and tender, but not a peck. Definitely not a peck.
    When he released her, Sarah sat back in her chair and fanned her face with her hand. ‘Whew!’ she said. ‘Mama, buy me that!’
    Dalton laughed.
    â€˜You know,’ Sarah said, leaning forward and taking Dalton’s hand in hers, ‘you just don’t seem the type to be into trannies.’
    â€˜Well,’ Dalton said, ‘I prefer working on an engine block, and even brakes, but trannies are OK.’
    â€˜What?’ Sarah said.
    Dalton had almost forgotten Sarah’s earlier mention in her emails that she was a ‘trannie’. A new word, Dalton figured, for people who liked to work on automobile transmissions. She seemed like such a girly girl, but you never could tell these days.
    â€˜Transmissions are OK. Little detailed, you know, but maybe not as detailed as working on a brake system, or a catalytic converter, or something like that,’ Dalton said, smiling at this beautiful girl in front of him.
    Sarah took her hand out of Dalton’s and fell back into her chair. ‘ Transmissions? ’ she said.
    â€˜Yeah?’ Dalton wondered why she seemed so sad all of a sudden.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ Sarah said, and left.
    Dalton watched her leave, taking her oversized purse with her, and his imagination went into overdrive – just like a well-built transmission. Her hips were a little on the small side, but he thought how small his mama was, and she had three real big babies. He figured Sarah could pop ’em out with no problem. And right away. He wanted babies right away. As she disappeared down the hall toward the restrooms, Dalton turned back to his table and finished his third mojito, holding up the empty glass to the waitress to signal for another. He wouldn’t mention anything about babies right away, of course, not even about marriage. But maybe by the end of the weekend. That would be the time, he thought.
    â€˜Put it on my tab,’ he told the waitress – the same way that Sarah had for their last round. He giggled as the waitress walked off. ‘Put it on my tab!’ he repeated, giggling some more.
    Then someone came and sat down at his table. Someone he didn’t know. ‘That seat’s saved,’ Dalton told him.
    â€˜I know,’ the man said.
    Dalton frowned as he looked down at his