Read Online Honeymoon for One by Chris Keniston - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Keniston
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suddenly seemed heavy with testosterone. From the way Pam straightened, her gaze swinging from man to man, she’d noticed it, too.
The two bucks stared each other down, silently daring the other to challenge their claim. Except neither of them had a claim to anything, especially not her. So what the hell was this posturing all about?
“Mr. McEntire, this is Steven Williams, my fi...a friend.” She’d almost said it. After five years, the word fiancé rolled too easily off her tongue. “He stopped in to say hi and was just leaving.”
The swift dismissal dragged Steven’s attention away from her boss and back to her. His glare piercing, possessive, and then she saw it. The moment recognition dawned. His hard stare softened, his stance relaxed. She wasn’t his to protect.
Her boss extended his hand first. “Nice to meet you.”
With a resigned sigh, Steven shook hands. “Same here, but I do need to get back to the bank.”
“A teller?” McEntire asked.
Pam choked back a laugh.
“Vice President.”
The posturing was back.
***
“I thought Angie was coming over for dinner?" Corrie dropped into a nearby kitchen chair.
"Another night. She promised her mom she'd help her pick out a new bedroom set."
"Is that what has you all bent out of shape?”
“I’m not bent out of shape. I did groceries.”
“Right. And you’re slamming the cans around loud enough to be heard on the next block because...?”
“I am not...” Michelle brought the can of chili down with a loud bang and stopped to take a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”
“At least you didn’t have a chemistry test.”
At the moment, being seventeen and worrying over a chemistry test sounded like heaven. “I thought you liked chemistry?”
Corrie looked at her sister as though she’d sprouted a third eye before blowing out an exasperated breath. “No one likes chemistry. That’s so lame.”
“Since when is science lame?” Michelle folded the paper bag and placed it in the recycling bin. “That kind of thinking isn’t going to get you into med school.”
Corrie reached for a bag of chips on the counter and tore it open. “I don’t want to go to med school.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to go to med school?” Michelle turned to look at her sister. “And don’t eat those, you’ll spoil dinner.”
“Chill. I’m almost eighteen. Only little kids spoil their dinner.”
“Age has nothing to do with it.” She snatched the bag away. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since Gramma Betty gave you the Operation game on your sixth birthday. What happened to change your mind?”
“I’ve grown up. Put away kid’s stuff.”
Since when was practicing medicine kid’s stuff ? Okay, no reason to panic. The key was to not appear upset. Don’t give Corrie reason to be contrary. Try and smile. Michelle had faked pleasant and content all day. What was another hour or two? She turned the burner on under the frying pan. “So, what would you like to be?”
“A spy.”
Michelle stared at the pound of ground beef in the skillet. Had she heard wrong? “Spy?”
Corrie reached for the bag of chips again. “Yeah.”
Of all the battles of the day, the chips were lagging way behind in priority. What the heck should she say to becoming a spy? Keep it positive. Always positive. “Well, that sounds...interesting.”
“It’s way cool. Think of all the fascinating people I’d meet. Places I’d go. And all for the good of the country.”
“Right. So, do you have to go to college to be a spy?”
“Like the CIA will take any dummy off the street.”
“CIA? I thought you said you wanted to be a spy?”
“Duh. What do you think the CIA is?”
Maybe if she pretended all was well with the world, all her troubles would simply go away. Or maybe she should buy just one teeny little bottle of Baileys. “How many sloppy joes you want?”
“Two. I’m starved.” Corrie flashed a toothy grin, then the phone rang and
The two bucks stared each other down, silently daring the other to challenge their claim. Except neither of them had a claim to anything, especially not her. So what the hell was this posturing all about?
“Mr. McEntire, this is Steven Williams, my fi...a friend.” She’d almost said it. After five years, the word fiancé rolled too easily off her tongue. “He stopped in to say hi and was just leaving.”
The swift dismissal dragged Steven’s attention away from her boss and back to her. His glare piercing, possessive, and then she saw it. The moment recognition dawned. His hard stare softened, his stance relaxed. She wasn’t his to protect.
Her boss extended his hand first. “Nice to meet you.”
With a resigned sigh, Steven shook hands. “Same here, but I do need to get back to the bank.”
“A teller?” McEntire asked.
Pam choked back a laugh.
“Vice President.”
The posturing was back.
***
“I thought Angie was coming over for dinner?" Corrie dropped into a nearby kitchen chair.
"Another night. She promised her mom she'd help her pick out a new bedroom set."
"Is that what has you all bent out of shape?”
“I’m not bent out of shape. I did groceries.”
“Right. And you’re slamming the cans around loud enough to be heard on the next block because...?”
“I am not...” Michelle brought the can of chili down with a loud bang and stopped to take a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”
“At least you didn’t have a chemistry test.”
At the moment, being seventeen and worrying over a chemistry test sounded like heaven. “I thought you liked chemistry?”
Corrie looked at her sister as though she’d sprouted a third eye before blowing out an exasperated breath. “No one likes chemistry. That’s so lame.”
“Since when is science lame?” Michelle folded the paper bag and placed it in the recycling bin. “That kind of thinking isn’t going to get you into med school.”
Corrie reached for a bag of chips on the counter and tore it open. “I don’t want to go to med school.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to go to med school?” Michelle turned to look at her sister. “And don’t eat those, you’ll spoil dinner.”
“Chill. I’m almost eighteen. Only little kids spoil their dinner.”
“Age has nothing to do with it.” She snatched the bag away. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since Gramma Betty gave you the Operation game on your sixth birthday. What happened to change your mind?”
“I’ve grown up. Put away kid’s stuff.”
Since when was practicing medicine kid’s stuff ? Okay, no reason to panic. The key was to not appear upset. Don’t give Corrie reason to be contrary. Try and smile. Michelle had faked pleasant and content all day. What was another hour or two? She turned the burner on under the frying pan. “So, what would you like to be?”
“A spy.”
Michelle stared at the pound of ground beef in the skillet. Had she heard wrong? “Spy?”
Corrie reached for the bag of chips again. “Yeah.”
Of all the battles of the day, the chips were lagging way behind in priority. What the heck should she say to becoming a spy? Keep it positive. Always positive. “Well, that sounds...interesting.”
“It’s way cool. Think of all the fascinating people I’d meet. Places I’d go. And all for the good of the country.”
“Right. So, do you have to go to college to be a spy?”
“Like the CIA will take any dummy off the street.”
“CIA? I thought you said you wanted to be a spy?”
“Duh. What do you think the CIA is?”
Maybe if she pretended all was well with the world, all her troubles would simply go away. Or maybe she should buy just one teeny little bottle of Baileys. “How many sloppy joes you want?”
“Two. I’m starved.” Corrie flashed a toothy grin, then the phone rang and
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