Page 29 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Christian, I said, don’t stop.”
“I heard you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“You good?”
She noticed what I’d seen, and she put her hand back on my shoulder, tightening her nails in my flesh.
“Never better.”
“I disagree.”
“For fucks sake! Get off me.”
She pushed my shoulders, and I withdrew from her as she wiggled quickly away from me. Confused, I watched her, my brows dipped, as she strolled, clearly ruffled herself.
“What’s going on?” I asked, concerned.
She sank her hands into her hips. “We have an arrangement.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Are you going to keep up your end or what?”
My eyes widened. “What do you call what we’ve been doing for the past year?”
“I’m talking about now. Today.”
I glanced around the kitchen, down at my wet dick, then back at her.
“You know what I mean!”
Her outburst took me back. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
Frustrated, she walked in circles around the table.
“Maybe we should eat first. Can we eat?”
Staring at her, I nodded. “Let’s eat.”
We moved to the dining table, falling into the easy rhythm we’d perfected, like her outburst hadn’t just happened.
But underneath it all, I was eager to get down to the bottom of it.
It was noticeable to me that neither of us had mentioned the anniversary—our anniversary. While I understood our arrangement and that this was not something to celebrate because of it, I still longed for its recognition.
“How’s your father?” I asked, cutting into the tender veal.
Her expression softened. “He’s okay, I guess. Still fighting with the VA about his wheelchair.”
“The wheels are still locking up?”
“Among other things. He’s too proud to admit how much it’s affecting him, but I can hear it in his voice.” She took a sip of wine, her jaw tightening slightly. “Sometimes I think the system is designed to wear veterans down until they give up asking for assistance.”
“How can I help?”
The offer came out automatically, and surprise flourished across her face.
