She couldn’t help grinning ba
ck as she came close and muttered, “The day’s not over.”
Dropping his life jacket beside the door, Cord steeled himself for Sharon’s reaction. When she turned around her jaw dropped to the floor, and the panful of bacon in her hands almost followed suit.
“Oh!” Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy. “I didn’t realize… I mean…”
“Sorry, Sharon. I’m working down at the river today. I didn’t plan to come inside, so I don’t have a shirt.” He backed toward the door. “I’ll just wait outside for one of those breakfast tacos. I really appreciate it.”
Sharon frowned. “Nonsense. You’ll sit right down at that table and eat your breakfast. I may not have had any sons, but it’s not like I’ve never seen a man’s chest before.”
“But what about your sign?” He pointed to her refrigerator, which was littered with snappy messages, like In this kitchen, we lick the spoon, and A messy kitchen is a happy kitchen. One sign was prominent, front and center… No shirt, no shoes, no service.
She waved him toward the table. “Forget those kitchen magnets. Only one sign matters.” She pointed to the wall, where a hand-painted wood sign read, Number one rule of Nanna’s kitchen: Keep Nanna happy at all times.
With a sinking feeling, he edged sideways toward the table, hoping to hide the worst of his bruises from her sharp eyes. Next thing, she’d be asking for a copy of the doctor’s report. He heard Jessica’s stifled snicker and whispered, “Revenge is sweet,” to which she snorted laughter.
“Why are you walking funny?” Sharon plopped the bacon on the table and fisted her hands on her hips. “Have you been riding bulls again?”
“No ma’am. Still healing from the last round.” Truth was, he was afraid he was going to forget everything if he didn’t practice before the big rodeo.
“Cord Dennison, what are you trying to hide?” Pot holder in hand, she marched around behind him.
“Nothing.”
He quickly plopped into a chair, but the slatted back gave her an eyeful. She tsked her disapproval.
“Has the doctor cleared you for any sports activities? I don’t think he’d want you canoeing this soon after your injuries.”
“Now, Sharon,” said Bucky, as he entered the kitchen, newspaper tucked under his arm. “I doubt Cord wants a lecture right now.”
“But he’d probably love getting one later on,” Jess added, as she carried a plate of hash brown potatoes to the table, humor dancing in her smoky gray eyes.
“Yes, please,” Cord agreed. “I haven’t had a good lecture since Friday night, when Jess warned me about flossing my teeth.”
“Okay, I’ll lay off.” Sharon chuckled, good-naturedly. “That’s my chair next to Bucky, Jess. Go sit next to Cord.”
With wooden legs, Jess walked around to his side, her face like someone sentenced to death.
As she sank into the chair beside him, he leaned close to murmur, “Are you afraid to sit by me?”
“No,” she squeaked, laying her napkin across her lap.
Seeing his prime opportunity for revenge, he scooted forward in his chair and reached for the plate of tortillas in front of him. At the same time, he let his left leg move until it pressed against her bare thigh. She jumped, and scooched her chair away from him.
After building his breakfast taco and taking a few bites, he repeated the shifting move, this time as he reached for a napkin.
Like he’d touched her with a hot coal, Jess sprang from her chair. “Would anyone else like some orange juice?”
“No thanks,” Sharon and Bucky replied, the latter from behind his newspaper.
“I’d love some juice,” Cord said, plastering a benevolent smile on his face.
When she returned with two glasses of orange juice, Jess managed to move her chair a bit farther away before sitting down, just out of reach of his extended knee.
Undaunted, Cord gulped his orange juice down and stood up. “Would anyone like a glass of water?”
Bucky looked up from his paper, his eyebrows darting high. He must not have noticed Cord’s lack of attire when he was sitting. “Uhmm… no thank you.”