City Girl by Judy Griffith Gill

beef,” said several people.
    “And chocolate cake,” Jason said. “’Member? Mom promised.”
    Kirk, poised in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen, braced his hands on the door frame as if to hold himself back. “Chocolate cake? Chocolate cake? No!” he said firmly as if someone were begging him to stay. “No damn way! I’m out of here!” He strode through the doorway and a few seconds later the back door slammed. Hard.
    * * * *
    Everyone had just sat down at the table, a strange and hardly compatible group, Liss thought, when Kirk returned. He stood at the threshold of the big, warm kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the group before settling on Liss.
    She raised her brows. °I thought you were leaving. “
    He shoved his hat back. “I left,” he said, scowling at her. Then, when no one spoke, he added, “I came back.” He sounded as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.
    “Sweetie,” Gina said, getting up and going to him. She lifted his hat off and patted his cheek. “I’m glad you did. Just as soon as dinner is over, you and I are going to have that little chat.”
    He grasped her wrist, pulled her hand away, and dropped it as he might a wet towel. After politely escorting her back to her chair, he removed his jacket and boots while Liss collected a place setting for him. “Thanks, Liss,” he said, as she set a plate and cutlery at the head of the table. He helped himself to roast beef, potatoes, gravy, and vegetables. °Mmm. This is what I came back for,” he added, smiling wickedly at her as she resumed her seat between her sons. Holding her gaze with his, he ran his tongue over his lips and said softly, “This, and the taste of chocolate.”
    Deep inside Liss a throbbing began, and she looked quickly down at her plate. Dammit, she thought, she was not going to become number four on his list, or ten or twenty or anything, and he was not going to use her to keep the unwanted ones at bay.
    * * * *
    When the last crumbs of chocolate cake had been scraped off plates, Kirk leaned back, looking satisfied.
    “Wonderful,” he said. “Thank you, Liss.”
     “You’re welcome. Would anyone like more coffee?”
    “Kirk and I will have some,” Gina said, pushing back her chair. “You can bring it into the living room for us.”
    “Not a chance,” Kirk said. “If you want more coffee, you’ll have it while you clear the table.”
    Gina lifted her imperious nose. “While I do what?”
     “You heard me,” he said pleasantly.
    Gina turned to Liss and gave her a sweeping, appraising stare that, after the assessment was complete, became dismissive. Facing Kirk again, she said, “I beg your pardon, but what would she be doing if I were to clear the table?”
    “Taking a well-deserved break. Who do you think cooked all that food you pigged out on?”
    “I,” Gina said, “did not `pig out’ on anything.”
    Patty stood and rubbed her stomach. “Well, I certainly did. That was a great meal, Liss, and even if Kirk hadn’t suggested it, I was prepared to clean up by way of saying thanks. I’ll scrape and rinse if you’ll load the dishwasher, Kristy. Come on, cousin, dear,” she said to Gina. “It won’t break your pretty nails to clear a table for once in your useless life.” She shook her head. “And to think you imagined yourself as a rancher’s wife.”
    “But I’d make a won—Kirk! Where are you going?”
    He smiled as he tugged on his jacket. “I’m going to milk.”
    “Then I’ll join you,” Gina said.
    “Can I come, too, Kirk?” Ryan asked.
    “Sure,” he said with almost laughable eagerness as Gina, with a petulant huff, subsided back into her chair. Kirk gave Liss a guilty look. “Unless your mother objects?” His eyes begged her not to.
    “It’s okay,” Liss said to her son, far more because she knew he loved “helping” adults than because she wanted to let Kirk hide behind him. “But come in as soon as the milking is done. You’re going to follow