Just The Way You Are(73)

There was nothing about the day that overtly spelled disaster. The powerful storm had swerved away from the coast just before midnight, returning them to beautiful summer weather. The flowers glistened with lingering raindrops and the wind chimes on the porch played a melody in the soft breeze, but still Sam felt a wave of uneasiness as he applied his finger to the doorbell.

Fortunately, Megan opened the door after the obligatory "Who is it?" She leaped into his arms and planted a big kiss on his forehead. Thank God for small innocent children who loved unconditionally and without restraint.

"Hi, Daddy," she said in her sweet voice.

He smiled into her baby blues. "Hi, honey."

"You didn't come back last night to make the kite," she said somewhat accusingly. "Mommy and I had to sew the fabric by ourselves."

Of course he hadn't come back; he'd been sent home after daring to make love to his wife. Still, he was surprised that Alli could have concentrated on kite building when he'd spent the better part of the evening in turmoil.

"We painted a picture, and now we just have to attach the material to the sticks," Megan continued.#p#分页标题#e#

Sam started, realizing he'd missed some of what she'd said. "What?"

"Aren't you listening, Daddy?"

"Of course I am. I'm glad you and Mommy worked on the kite."

"Can we finish it today after we get back from pearl hunting?"

"We'll see."

"That means no," she said with a sigh.

"That means we'll see." He set her down and followed her into the house.

Alli was in the kitchen, standing at the stove and stirring what could only be her favorite apple cinnamon oatmeal. She wore faded blue jeans that clung to her hips, and a short cropped lime-green T-shirt that allowed a glimpse of skin. Her feet were bare and her hair was still damp from a shower. Sam had to make himself keep breathing. He'd seen her like this a thousand times, but he didn't think she'd ever looked sexier. He just wished she'd turn around so he could see her face, assess her mood, but she seemed intent on stirring, determined to ignore him.

"Morning," he said shortly.

"Morning," she mumbled.

Megan sent him a funny look, then sat down at the table to finish her cereal. "Are you having oatmeal, Daddy?"

"If there's enough," he said, his gaze fixed on Alli's back.

She turned her head slightly at that, still not giving him a look into her eyes. "There's enough."

"Great."

She moved over to the cabinet and pulled out two bowls. After filling one with oatmeal, she held it out to him. He didn't take it. He wanted her to look at him, dammit, to show that she remembered every kiss, every touch, every second of their being together.

Finally, she did look at him, and for a split second there was that same sense of awareness, intimacy, desire—then her brown eyes turned defiant, belligerent. Her armor was back on.

"Take it," she said, pushing the bowl at him.

"Thanks."

So they were back to being angry, distant strangers. He should have figured. He sat down at the table and began to eat, listening to Megan talk about her evening at the neighbor's house, about the brownie she'd saved him, and how many oysters they were going to get and what were the odds that they'd find a pearl. And all the while she talked, he barely listened, instead watching Alli take her oatmeal to the kitchen sink, eating while she cleaned up, anything to avoid sitting down at the table with him.

Finally, Megan finished her cereal and at Alli's request took it to the sink. Then she disappeared upstairs to finish getting dressed. Taking his own empty bowl over to the counter, he set it down while Alli busied herself with loading the dishwasher.

He leaned against the counter and watched her. It was all so normal, the way they ate breakfast, the dishwashing soap Alli poured into the machine, the way she loaded each plate, each glass. He remembered when they'd first married, how they'd argued about how to load the dishwasher.

So many fights … they'd had so many arguments about nothing—who was going to pay the bills, who would clean the toilet, who would refill the paper towel dispenser. They'd fought over his drinking milk out of the carton, over Alli's forgetting to get the oil in the car checked, over who got control of the remote control, over whether or not they would buy a new washing machine or keep the old one for one more year—all the little things in their lives. But the big stuff, most of the big stuff, they'd agreed on—how to raise Megan, how to build their businesses, how to support their community. They'd never fought over those things.

"What are you looking at?" she asked in exasperation, tossing the dish towel down on the sink. "You're staring at me like you've never seen me before."#p#分页标题#e#