Sunny Chandler's Return

“Perfect,” Sunny said.

“I didn’t even think to ask if you’d rather go back to the drive-in.”

She shook her head. “I’ve had enough gore to last me for a while.”

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“Speaking of gore, dust off the menu and let me know what you want to eat.”

When the waitress brought their coffee, they both ordered a steak sandwich. “She seemed to know just how you like it,” Sunny said as the waitress moved away. “You must come here often.”

“On slow nights, yes.”

“When you haven’t been invited out.”

“When I haven’t been invited in.”

Recalling their conversation about his sex life earlier in the evening, Sunny wanted to appear vexed, but found that his smile was too disarming to resist. She returned it.

The lettuce in their unimaginative salads wasn’t too limp and was redeemed by the thick, creamy, homemade dressing. The sandwiches were garnished with fresh garden tomatoes. The breading on the batter-dipped and fried cutlet was golden brown and crunchy.

“Dessert?” Ty asked, as Sunny moved her empty plate aside.

“No, thank you.”

She did, however, let the waitress refill her mug with hot, fragrant coffee. As soon as she cleared their dishes away, the waitress went back to watch the television set on the counter. The Tonight Show was on, and the cook joined her in watching it. Ty and Sunny were the only diners in the café.

She sat staring into her steaming coffee, running her finger idly around the chipped rim of the mug.

“Where do you think we’d be if Wade Flory hadn’t interrupted us?” Ty asked.

She lifted her head quickly, but when her gaze clashed with his, she lowered it again. He didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word subtle. He never led up to anything gradually but pounded home his point with the force of a pile driver. She was never prepared for his brazen statements and outrageous questions. She stalled in giving him an answer now. “What do you mean?”

“You know damn good and well what I mean. What would our hot and heavy necking have led to?”

“How should I know?”

He leaned across the table and whispered confidentially. “You know, Sunny. We’d be in bed.”

Knowing that he was probably right only made her angrier. “Is that all you ever think about?”

“Not all of the time,” he said evenly, “but lately, yes. I’ve got a wager riding on this, remember?”

She blew out a deep breath of exasperation. “If you’ll leave me alone, I’ll buy you a case of whiskey myself.”

Wrinkling his brow, he pretended to seriously consider her offer, then shook his head. “No, it just wouldn’t be the same. No challenge involved. And I’d have to buy George a new fly-casting rod.”

“George! I could strangle him. He used to be so nice. I can’t believe he would be involved in—” Her eyes became slits of suspicion. “Or did you just make this up?”

His smile was noncommittal.

“Did you?” she hissed across the table. “There really is no bet! That’s only a new approach your sick mind invented, isn’t it?”

Again, all she got by way of answer was a sly smile.

She scooted to the edge of the booth. “Take me home.”

His eyes moved down her body. “Gladly.”