Rod of Correction_ Taken and Tamed(28)
He got up and the world swirled around him for a few seconds, then steadied. He offered her his hand, helping her up and keeping her close to his side as they walked into the house. “You know, you were damned good for someone who doesn’t hunt.” He figured a genuine compliment was the least he could do. “How’d you do it?” He was more than a little curious.
“Like I’m going to tell you that!” she snorted. “I fully intend to win, next time,” she said. Rod was dumbstruck, although he tried not to show it.
Next time? Had she just mentioned a next time? Nah, he must’ve misheard her.
“What do you call the game, anyway?”
“Huh?” He still couldn’t wrap his head around the ‘next time’ comment. He wasn’t prepared to move on from that yet.
“What do you call it – the game?”
“Idiotic? Ridiculous? Stupid? Take your pick.”
Sunny raised her eyebrow at him. “I was thinking about something a little catchier, like Hide and Spank, or . . .”
He definitely was not into naming whatever it was. He was looking down at her as if she was an alien.
So she decided to change the subject. “I’m hungry, Sir.” She opened her mouth and pointed into it vast expanse. “All of that physical activity – of various kinds – has made me ravenous. Feed me, Seymour. You set a high bar at breakfast, you know. Don’t disappoint me with dinner or I’ll take my toys and go home.”
Still off balance, Rod lumbered into the kitchen and stared into the fridge, but nothing inspired him like it had this morning.
Sunny came up behind him and saw his strangely lost expression and the way he was staring vacantly at the contents of the fridge and said, “Does anyone deliver out here in the boonies?”
That seemed to snap him out of his funk a bit, and he said, “Surprisingly, yes. There’s a little wrap-place -”
She was already shaking her head.
“No wrap place? Well, then there’s pizza -”
More vigorous head shaking.
“No pizza.”
“We had it last night,” she pouted.
“Right.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Ah – Chinese!”
“Is there a good place around?”
He grabbed her against him and sat on a snack bar stool in the kitchen with her on his lap, which seemed to be becoming a habit, with a well worn copy of Liu Chin’s Best Chinese Takeout menu spread out before them like a treasure map.
“What’ll you have?” he asked.
“Egg rolls, won tons, chicken fingers -”
He felt the dom side of him kick in and boot the moody side of him in the ass and out of the way. “We’ll get the egg rolls and the chicken fingers – egg rolls at least have veggies and chicken is protein, even if it’s battered and deep fried. But fried won tons have no redeeming social – or nutritional – value. Pick something with veggies in it, please.”
“Fried rice?”
“We’re getting that anyway because I want it with my kung pao chicken. Chow mein? Moo shu?”
“Oh, moo shu for me, please. Pork, please.”
“Good girl.”
He disappeared into his study and made the call, then locked his phone back up and returned to her side.
“It’ll be a half hour or so.”
Sunny’s lower lip was thrust out so far it practically dragged on the ground. “I won’t last that long. I’ll get the vapors,” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and sagged dramatically against him.
He arose and retrieved the small amount of fruit compote that was left, which he fed to her by spoonfuls, but refused to let her eat anything else, especially not the junk food she kept suggesting, reaching under her behind to squeeze one still-very hot cheek in warning. He heard her teeth snap shut; there was never another word about junk food for the rest of their time together.
They feasted on their delivery food, listening to a mixed-music radio station and talking about everything but work. Every time she introduced a business subject, he ignored the question and replaced it with one of his own about something more personal, and she got the hint quickly, although she mourned the fact that she had one of the greatest business minds of their time sitting across from her and he refused to talk to her about work! She longed to pick his brain, but he wouldn’t allow it.
They found they shared a love of travel, although he’d been many more places than she. She already knew that he could cook – although he had laughed at the idea that she considered what he’d done for breakfast to be cooking – and that she couldn’t, but he didn’t care. That’s what chefs and restaurants were for. She didn’t have any family left, and he had two brothers and one sister. They were very close knit, but the brothers were closest – geographically – and each had kids. His sister was unmarried and lived several states away.