butt to be married to such a good-looking man.”
Scout swallowed his biscuit and lifted one paw, begging for another.
“Not a chance, Scooby-Doo,” I said, juggling my hot Pop-Tart back and forth before dumping it on a plate.
I was halfway through my third cup of coffee and my toaster pastry when Gabe came in, all sweaty and slick from his run. I smiled a good morning and continued eating. Scout trotted over to the biscuit jar, his ocher eyes hopeful.
“Don’t fall for it,” I said. “He’s scored his morning biscuit already.”
“Hope springs eternal in a dog’s heart,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Is that your breakfast?” His bottom lip tightened in disapproval.
“You get your vitamins your way, I’ll get them mine,” I replied, unperturbed. My eating habits were a constant source of irritation for my health-obsessed husband. I conceded to his concerns by taking the plate of vitamins he left out every day, but that was as much control as I would allow him.
“You know, an orange once in a while wouldn’t kill you,” he said, reaching for one in the glass bowl next to the bread box. “I bought these at Farmer’s Market last week. They’re incredible.”
I blew him a kiss and popped the rest of the disputed pastry in my mouth. “Umm, umm, good.”
He just shook his head and laughed, efficiently peeling the orange. The sweet, mouth-watering scent of citrus groves filled our warm kitchen.
“Here,” he said, taking a slice and rubbing it across my lips. I opened them and took the fruit, licking his fingers as I did.
“That really is pretty good,” I said.
“Told you so.”
I grinned at him. “Yeah, and the orange was all right too.”
After he’d taken a shower and was dressing for work, I told him Del called. I sat on the bed, my legs crossed underneath me.
The subtle brightening of his face did not make me happy, but remembering my worries a couple of months ago about Lydia and how they came to nothing, I pushed them away. I was going to trust my husband. That was all there was to it.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“Just to make sure everything was still on with your tour today.”
He nodded, turning to the long mirror to fix his subtly printed maroon necktie and button his cuffs. In the lightly starched white shirts he always wore, his dark skin looked wonderful. How could I blame any woman for looking twice at this man?
Just so long as he didn’t look back.
“Luckily, she chose to visit on a day I have only one meeting,” he said, critically eying his Windsor knot, then pulling it apart to retie it. “I expect to get lots of teasing today.”
“Why would the guys tease you about her?”
“Not the guys, her. Don’t forget, she’s never seen me in a ‘suit’ position. She’s used to a whole other side of me. A definitely wilder side.”
I silently contemplated the meaning of his words.
After he left, I straightened up the kitchen, threw back the comforter on the bed, and dressed in my everyday working clothes of a plaid flannel shirt and faded Wranglers. As I cleaned my muddy boots in the bathtub, I worried his relationship with Del like a dog with a marrow-filled bone.
Let it go, I commanded myself while drying my boots with an old towel. You knew this man had a very complicated personal life before he met you, so grow up and accept it. Quit being such a small-town girl. You have shower gifts to wrap, paperwork to do, a multitude of problems to be solved at the museum. Besides, she’ll be gone soon. Get over it.
After that lecture, I called to Scout. He jumped into the back of the truck and I sat down in the driver’s seat, enjoying for a moment the still new car smell. To force myself into a more amiable mood, I slipped a Tish Hinojosa cassette into my new truck’s player and sang along with “La Rancherita”—“The Little Ranch Girl.” Its buoyant melody and touching love story never failed to make me smile.
My mood was much cheerier
Scout swallowed his biscuit and lifted one paw, begging for another.
“Not a chance, Scooby-Doo,” I said, juggling my hot Pop-Tart back and forth before dumping it on a plate.
I was halfway through my third cup of coffee and my toaster pastry when Gabe came in, all sweaty and slick from his run. I smiled a good morning and continued eating. Scout trotted over to the biscuit jar, his ocher eyes hopeful.
“Don’t fall for it,” I said. “He’s scored his morning biscuit already.”
“Hope springs eternal in a dog’s heart,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Is that your breakfast?” His bottom lip tightened in disapproval.
“You get your vitamins your way, I’ll get them mine,” I replied, unperturbed. My eating habits were a constant source of irritation for my health-obsessed husband. I conceded to his concerns by taking the plate of vitamins he left out every day, but that was as much control as I would allow him.
“You know, an orange once in a while wouldn’t kill you,” he said, reaching for one in the glass bowl next to the bread box. “I bought these at Farmer’s Market last week. They’re incredible.”
I blew him a kiss and popped the rest of the disputed pastry in my mouth. “Umm, umm, good.”
He just shook his head and laughed, efficiently peeling the orange. The sweet, mouth-watering scent of citrus groves filled our warm kitchen.
“Here,” he said, taking a slice and rubbing it across my lips. I opened them and took the fruit, licking his fingers as I did.
“That really is pretty good,” I said.
“Told you so.”
I grinned at him. “Yeah, and the orange was all right too.”
After he’d taken a shower and was dressing for work, I told him Del called. I sat on the bed, my legs crossed underneath me.
The subtle brightening of his face did not make me happy, but remembering my worries a couple of months ago about Lydia and how they came to nothing, I pushed them away. I was going to trust my husband. That was all there was to it.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“Just to make sure everything was still on with your tour today.”
He nodded, turning to the long mirror to fix his subtly printed maroon necktie and button his cuffs. In the lightly starched white shirts he always wore, his dark skin looked wonderful. How could I blame any woman for looking twice at this man?
Just so long as he didn’t look back.
“Luckily, she chose to visit on a day I have only one meeting,” he said, critically eying his Windsor knot, then pulling it apart to retie it. “I expect to get lots of teasing today.”
“Why would the guys tease you about her?”
“Not the guys, her. Don’t forget, she’s never seen me in a ‘suit’ position. She’s used to a whole other side of me. A definitely wilder side.”
I silently contemplated the meaning of his words.
After he left, I straightened up the kitchen, threw back the comforter on the bed, and dressed in my everyday working clothes of a plaid flannel shirt and faded Wranglers. As I cleaned my muddy boots in the bathtub, I worried his relationship with Del like a dog with a marrow-filled bone.
Let it go, I commanded myself while drying my boots with an old towel. You knew this man had a very complicated personal life before he met you, so grow up and accept it. Quit being such a small-town girl. You have shower gifts to wrap, paperwork to do, a multitude of problems to be solved at the museum. Besides, she’ll be gone soon. Get over it.
After that lecture, I called to Scout. He jumped into the back of the truck and I sat down in the driver’s seat, enjoying for a moment the still new car smell. To force myself into a more amiable mood, I slipped a Tish Hinojosa cassette into my new truck’s player and sang along with “La Rancherita”—“The Little Ranch Girl.” Its buoyant melody and touching love story never failed to make me smile.
My mood was much cheerier
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