Page 45 of Just Friends

“That ain’t nice,” Dalton said.

Rebecca chuckled. “She didn’t put me to work. I volunteered.”

“She carved up that turkey so fast it was scary,” Cindy said.

“Yeah, I know, her knife skills both impress and terrify me,” Weasel acknowledged.

“Bet that still doesn’t stop you from making her mad.”

“Not even close,” Rebecca replied to both Dalton and Cindy’s amused laughs. Weasel’s mouth slowly curved up at the corners, and he shook his head.

After dinner, Rebecca watched the coffee drip brew into the pot when Weasel came up behind her; his arms wrapping around her waist as he nuzzled his face into her neck, the scruff sending shivers through her body. “Your whiskers tickle,” she whispered, running a hand along his scruffy jaw. He continued to nuzzle, planting soft kisses up and down her neck. Laughing, she tried to wiggle free, but he held on.

“Coffee?”

“In a minute,” he mumbled in her ear and turned her to face him, pinning her against the counter with his body. His hands threaded in her hair as he kissed her, lightly, then deeper until she’d forgotten they were standing in his brother’s kitchen with his family one room away.

“Oh, good Lord,” Dalton said, his voice disconcertingly similar to Weasel’s. “Get a room.”

Weasel stopped. “Go away.” He leaned in to kiss her again.

“You’re in my kitchen,” Dalton replied.

Weasel sighed.

“Harlan Christopher Anderson,” Great Aunt Edna appeared. “Get off of that girl right now. She’s a good girl, and that’s not how to treat a lady.”

“Can she get on me?” he asked laughing. Who knew Edna could move so fast. She snatched Weasel by the ear and pulled him yelling in pain from the room, making him sit on the couch where she read him the riot act. Rebecca stood stunned.

Cindy ushered the boys into the bathroom telling them it was now time to take a bath much to their groans and protests. With the promise of a bubble bath, they cheered. Dalton didn’t try to keep his amusement to himself.

“He’s armed,” Rebecca told Dalton.

“Yeah.” Dalton wiped the tears from his eyes. “She don’t care. Rumor has it she dated a Central American arms dealer in the thirties. The fact he’s packing doesn’t scare her.”

“And she’s offended we were kissing?”

He laughed. “Apparently trying to suck your face off in the kitchen isn’t how one should treat a lady.”

Heat rushed to her face; she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I just wanted to aggravate him.” Dalton grinned.

In the living room, Weasel was still struggling to get a word in edgewise with Edna and failing. Cindy returned and looked poignantly at Dalton and nodded toward Edna. He hesitated for a minute, and with a final sigh, he stepped forward. “All right, Edna,” he said. “I think you’ve told Weasel off enough for one day. How about some after dinner coffee?”

“Decaf?” Edna asked.

“Of course.”

“Fine.” Edna stared at Rebecca. “I take a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of cream.”

Charged with getting Edna her coffee, she retrieved the mugs. Who knows what could happen if she screwed that up. Both terrified and in awe of this powerhouse wisp of a woman, Rebecca imagined her in her younger days, trying to make their dad take care of his children. How frustrating it must have been to witness him neglecting them. The more she learned about his upbringing, the more impressed she was that he and Dalton turned into productive members of society. She made Edna’s coffee and poured a cup of straight black for Weasel.

Weasel hadn’t moved an inch. He was on the sofa looking a tad shell shocked. Rebecca handed him the mug. Edna settled in the chair with the television remote when Rebecca gave her the drink and went back for her own. She sat next to Weasel and peered at his red ear.

“Are you okay?”

“I need lots and lots of comforting,” he whispered, giving a wicked grin.

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