takes him to Paris and Italy occasionally.” That nagging voice started again telling him to be honest and tell her that he spent time in Europe every year just because he loved the old country. But to make that admission would mean he’d have to tell her more and more and finally she’d pour a bucket of that hideous paint on his head in a fit of anger.
“How long do you think it’ll take to get this all done?” she asked.
“This is Saturday. If we work hard, we might have the scraping finished by the middle of the week. The rest of the week we can paint.” He was glad to change the subject.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Is Sunday. Ranchers take that day off for a day of rest. We didn’t haul hay on that day.”
“Okay.” She drug out the two syllables to make five or six.
“So I thought maybe I’d pick you up about ten in the morning and we’d go fishing out at the lake. I’ll have Oma make us a picnic,” he suggested.
“Is that a date?” She smiled.
“Do you want it to be a date?”
“If it’s a date do I get a kiss at the end of the day?” she teased.
“Do you want a kiss at the end of the day?”
“Yes, I do,” she said.
“Why?”
“To see if it will knock my socks off like the first one did or if that was just a fluke,” she said.
“And if it was?”
“Then I’ll stop thinking about it.”
“You don’t have any trouble speaking your mind, do you?”
She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand. “Not a bit. That bother you?”
He smiled down at her. “It wouldn’t do any good if it did. So at the end of our date when we have a second kiss are you going to be honest and tell me if it knocks your socks off or are you going to fake it to keep from hurting my feelings?”
“Honey, I don’t fake a damn thing.”
His mind fell into a deep gutter.
***
At three she wiped the sweat from her brow and said, “If I don’t put food in my body soon you are going to have to call the undertaker.” She went into the house, got her car keys, and tossed them to him. “I’m too weak to drive. You’ll have to do it. Just remember she’s my special baby and if you are mean to her, you’ll never drive her again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held the door for her.
The Smokestack is the only business in Thurber, Texas, population from five to eight depending on who a person talks to that day. The restaurant is in an old warehouse building with the walls covered with antiques and pictures of days when Thurber was a thriving town.
Larissa led the way to a booth toward the east end of the restaurant. She slid into one side and Hank did the same on the other. She held up two fingers when the waitress looked up and nodded when she mouthed “pie.”
“So what are you cooking today?” Hank asked.
“Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, salad with garlic bread on the side, hot rolls, and coconut cream pie. Sweet iced tea. Speak now if you don’t like ranch dressing or sugar in your tea and I’ll tell the waitress to make a couple of changes.”
He shook his head. “Both are fine. That all they serve in here? It’s quaint, but it’s not the Brasserie Bofinger on the Rue de la Bastille, is it?”
“Nope, but I don’t expect you’d get a Texas-sized chicken fried steak there, would you? Or that you’d go there in paint-stained overalls either,” she smarted off. She leaned across the table and whispered, “As far as what else they have or serve in here, I have no idea. I’ve never seen a menu.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I came here first with Cathy and Amos and they never ordered from a menu. The chicken fried steak is so good I can’t imagine ordering anything else. I’ve got another confession. I’ve never been fishing.”
His smile erased the frown. “Are you serious?”
“Do I need to go buy any equipment?”
He shook his head. “No, Dad keeps enough fishing stuff out at the ranch for an army to use. He loves to fish on Sunday
“How long do you think it’ll take to get this all done?” she asked.
“This is Saturday. If we work hard, we might have the scraping finished by the middle of the week. The rest of the week we can paint.” He was glad to change the subject.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Is Sunday. Ranchers take that day off for a day of rest. We didn’t haul hay on that day.”
“Okay.” She drug out the two syllables to make five or six.
“So I thought maybe I’d pick you up about ten in the morning and we’d go fishing out at the lake. I’ll have Oma make us a picnic,” he suggested.
“Is that a date?” She smiled.
“Do you want it to be a date?”
“If it’s a date do I get a kiss at the end of the day?” she teased.
“Do you want a kiss at the end of the day?”
“Yes, I do,” she said.
“Why?”
“To see if it will knock my socks off like the first one did or if that was just a fluke,” she said.
“And if it was?”
“Then I’ll stop thinking about it.”
“You don’t have any trouble speaking your mind, do you?”
She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand. “Not a bit. That bother you?”
He smiled down at her. “It wouldn’t do any good if it did. So at the end of our date when we have a second kiss are you going to be honest and tell me if it knocks your socks off or are you going to fake it to keep from hurting my feelings?”
“Honey, I don’t fake a damn thing.”
His mind fell into a deep gutter.
***
At three she wiped the sweat from her brow and said, “If I don’t put food in my body soon you are going to have to call the undertaker.” She went into the house, got her car keys, and tossed them to him. “I’m too weak to drive. You’ll have to do it. Just remember she’s my special baby and if you are mean to her, you’ll never drive her again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held the door for her.
The Smokestack is the only business in Thurber, Texas, population from five to eight depending on who a person talks to that day. The restaurant is in an old warehouse building with the walls covered with antiques and pictures of days when Thurber was a thriving town.
Larissa led the way to a booth toward the east end of the restaurant. She slid into one side and Hank did the same on the other. She held up two fingers when the waitress looked up and nodded when she mouthed “pie.”
“So what are you cooking today?” Hank asked.
“Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, salad with garlic bread on the side, hot rolls, and coconut cream pie. Sweet iced tea. Speak now if you don’t like ranch dressing or sugar in your tea and I’ll tell the waitress to make a couple of changes.”
He shook his head. “Both are fine. That all they serve in here? It’s quaint, but it’s not the Brasserie Bofinger on the Rue de la Bastille, is it?”
“Nope, but I don’t expect you’d get a Texas-sized chicken fried steak there, would you? Or that you’d go there in paint-stained overalls either,” she smarted off. She leaned across the table and whispered, “As far as what else they have or serve in here, I have no idea. I’ve never seen a menu.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I came here first with Cathy and Amos and they never ordered from a menu. The chicken fried steak is so good I can’t imagine ordering anything else. I’ve got another confession. I’ve never been fishing.”
His smile erased the frown. “Are you serious?”
“Do I need to go buy any equipment?”
He shook his head. “No, Dad keeps enough fishing stuff out at the ranch for an army to use. He loves to fish on Sunday
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