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"Ham sandwiches." He got up from the bed and moved to his dresser. He pulled on a pair
of gym shorts and tossed her a big T-shirt with a hockey logo on the front. As they made their way to the kitchen they stepped over her panties and his briefs in the middle of the bedroom, her bra and his shirt on the stairs, and her dress by the front door.
The kitchen light shone off the pots and pans and the stainless steel appliances. Rob opened the refrigerator and looked inside. "Did your grandfather mention that he asked my mother to marry him?"
"Yes." Her gaze took in the gold scales etched in black on his shoulder and down the left side of his smooth back. The tattoo dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and appeared again wrapping around his right thigh. Earlier, she'd run her fingertips across the tattoo. Rob had shivered and the snake had seemed to come alive and move across his skin. Two small scars marked his back about a hand's width apart. "My grandfather told me when he got home last night. When did you hear the news?"
"This morning." He set a jar of mayonnaise, a head of lettuce, a package of ham, and two wheat beers on the work island. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about earlier when you brought over the granola bars." He moved to the pantry and grabbed a loaf of bread. "But I got sidetracked. Remember?"
Yes, she remembered. "What do you think of their plans?" Kate asked and grabbed a bottle opener that was stuck on the refrigerator. She popped the tops and handed him a bottle.
"I told her she didn't have to get married just because she slept with Stanley." He raised the beer. "And she reminded me that the most serious problems in my life were caused by sex outside of marriage." He took a long drink, then sucked a drop from the corner of his lips. "I think if I'd been nine, she would have smacked me."
Kate laughed. "I said about the same thing to my grandfather, and his reaction was pretty much like your mother's. He actually used the word fornication as if it was a bad thing."
Rob's laughter joined Kate's, and he set down the bottle and took eight slices of bread from the bag. As Rob spread mayonnaise on the bread, Kate tore lettuce and watched him out of the corners of her eyes. She liked the way his tattoo moved when he flexed his arms. In fact, there was a lot to like about him. His broad, hairy chest and flat abs were high on her list.
"If Stanley makes her happy, then I'm happy. It'll be a little weird at first." Rob piled ham on the bread, then cut the sandwiches with the knife. "Will this make me your uncle or your cousin?"
She hadn't thought of that. "Let's just say neither."
He put the sandwiches on a plate and looked down into her face. "You know what they say?"
She gazed up past his mustache and nose and into his eyes. "What?"
"Incest is best." He lightly took her chin between his fingers and kissed her mouth. "Of course, I don't know that firsthand."
"I'm glad you cleared that up."
Together they moved to the dining room to sit at the long, formal table. In between bites of sandwich and potato chips, he told her it was the first time he'd eaten in the room. He talked about his daughter and the plans he had for them when she was old enough to visit during the summer months.
"Why do you live in Gospel?" she asked as she pushed her plate aside after one sandwich.
"My mother lives here."
"But your daughter lives in Seattle. It sounds like you miss her."
"I miss her a lot." He took a bite, then washed it down with beer. "At first I moved here to recuperate because my mom's a nurse. She helped me with my physical therapy, but mostly I couldn't stand to live in Seattle and not play hockey. It reminds me of everything I used to have and everything I lost." He placed the bottle on the table, and his green eyes stared into hers. "I used to think I moved here because my mother's here. The truth is I came here because I needed a change." He reached for a chip and munched on it. "I ended up staying because I like it here." He washed the chip down with his beer. "Don't you want another sandwich?"
"One's my limit."
"Now it's my turn to ask you a question."
She took a drink from her beer, then set it back down. "What?"
"Why do you live in Gospel?"
"My grandfather needs me," was the easy answer.
He scratched the scar running down his bare chest and leaned his chair back on two legs. "Not buying it. Your grandmother's been dead for more than two years."
She looked over at him, her relaxed, sexy fantasy man. What did it matter what she told him? It wasn't as if she should hold back for fear of killing the relationship. She pushed her hair behind her ears and told him about Randy Meyers. How she'd found his family for him and what he'd done with the information she'd given him. She told him how Randy had looked and seemed so normal.
"You can't always tell a crazy person by looking," she said.
Rob nodded. "Stephanie Andrews didn't look crazy until she shot me. The scariest thing about crazy people is that they can look so normal."
He was right.
