Page 96 of The Man I Hate

Braxton offered a half-assed shrug. “She did pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Marge scoffed. “From what I heard she gave you step-by-step instructions.”

“That doesn’t mean I needed them,” Braxton said.

“The fact that she offered is what matters,” Marge argued. She glanced at me and smiled. “Not many would have been so thoughtful.”

“She’s alright,” Braxton deadpanned.

“Did she tell you that she owns a car dealership?” Marge asked.

“She did,” Braxton muttered.

Marge picked up a morsel of mashed potatoes and paused. She shifted her eyes from her food to Braxton. “Quite an accomplishment, if you ask me.”

“Thank you,” I said.

It was obvious that Marge had every intention of trying to set us up. I was itching to tell her what we’d decided but refrained.

“I told her I didn’t realize people in Oklahoma knew how to drive,” Braxton said with a laugh. “I thought they still rode horses.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Marge said jokingly.

“He’s just playing,” I said.

“He needs to be sweet,” Marge said. “Sarcasm does little to attract a woman.”

Braxton coughed out a laugh. “Who says I want to attract her?”

Having heard enough of Braxton’s nonsense, Marge lowered her fork and shot him a glare. “I’m saying you’re a fool if you don’t.”

Braxton looked me over as if considering Marge’s recommendation. He glanced at Marge. “She did a pretty good job of looking after me when I was sick.”

“She sure did,” Marge agreed.

“Did she tell you she read to me?”

“She sure did,” Marge said, alternating glances between Braxton and me as she spoke. “She sang you a lullaby or two, as well. Did she tell you that?”

Braxton scraped his plate clean with his fork. “She may have mentioned it.”

“I don’t know that she slept much in that two-week period,” Marge wiped her hands on her napkin. “She was far too concerned with your wellbeing to relax.”

Braxton looked at me, and then at her. “It sounds like she did a pretty good job.”

She scowled like one would expect a cute little old lady to scowl if she took exception to what someone said.

“She did better than pretty good,” she stated.

Braxton pushed himself away from the table. He looked at Marge. “Do you think much can be told from a kiss?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“When a man and a woman kiss,” he explained, “do you think the result of that kiss is any indication as to whether or not they’re compatible?”

“I think a kiss tells everything,” Marge replied. “A man and a woman can be attracted to one another, but if their kiss has no chemistry, they’re doomed.”

“If there’s chemistry in a kiss, they’re destined to last forever?” Braxton asked.