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Fucking ridiculous.
Hal didn’t really mind it once they arrived at the bakery, though. Valentina had scheduled herself to work in the hour and a half between shift changes so they had the place to themselves. Valentina would work in the kitchen, kneading and mixing and yeasting or whatever the hell a person had to do to make bread rise. While she was busy elbow deep in flour, Hal helped himself to a fresh pot of premium coffee and hunkered down with his feet up and the morning paper in his hand.The 1950’s. Now that was a decade he could wrap his head around,Hal thought to himself more than a couple of times in the past few days. A woman working her ass off happily in the kitchen, while the man of the house sipped his morning joe with his feet up enjoying the news of the day.
The arrangement appealed to his more primal self. Besides all the happy domestic bullshit vibe that Hal was definitely digging, he couldn’t help but tap in on the fact that Valentina seemed less on edge when she was busy rolling and mixing. Hal made sure that he positioned himself in his chair so he could catch glimpses of her slim, graceful arms as they massaged the yeasty dough. She always had a hint of a smile on her face when she was working in the kitchen, and once or twice he thought he heard her humming.
Then in about an hour and a half, she would appear at the doorway in a cloud of sweet smelling milk and fresh flour. Her smooth cheeks would be flushed a soft pink from the heat of the oven, and tiny wisps of hair would be curled and stuck to the graceful curve of her neck.
Valentina smelled good enough to eat and looked even better— until she opened her mouth. ThenMiss Sullen and Sulkywould state imperiously that it was time for him to take her back home; once there, she would stay pretty much confined to her room where she would stubbornly wait it out until the next morning.
Valentina approached each ride back and forth as though she was going to the gallows. Her stride was always so full of righteous anger that every step she took towards Hal saw her long ponytail swinging behind her like a tightly wound pendulum or a ferocious kitten’s tail.
Thinking about her sitting in the back seat with arms crossed under her rounded breasts and her full lips pursed into a pretty pout, he wondered what it would take to make that kitten purr.
Or even better—scratch.
In a childish and spiteful move that he didn’t know he was capable of, Hal had pulled out all stops this morning. He had slammed the pedal to the metal and sent the Cadillac careening down the road at the speed of sound.
Irresponsible? Definitely.
Outright mean? You betcha.
But he did it anyway.
Hal would have bet his left nut that with the lengthy list of phobias and hang-ups that Valentina apparently had, racing down the highway at top speed would elicit at least a minimal response from her. Maybe even send her climbing over the backseat and into his lap begging and pleading with him to slow down or stop.
Sick bastard that he was, he would have liked that. A lot.
But evidently speed wasn’t on the list because Valentina hadn’t given in an inch.
Not a peep. Not a protest. Not a “slow it down, buddy.” Nothing.
She had simply adjusted her seatbelt, sighed heavily, and taken a manicure file out of her purse. Then as calm as a light spring rain, Hal watched her surreptitiously in the rearview while she dragged that soft file across her nails, one by one, buffing them to what Hal imagined was a glossy shine.
She didn’t squeak or shudder or white knuckle it even after he hauled ass over a dip in the road that sent them temporarily airborne. When Hal came to a screeching halt in front of D&G Bakery, Valentina nonchalantly dropped her nail file in her purse, casually unbuckled her seatbelt, smoothed her skirt, and leaned forward to the front seat.
Then she spoke low into Hal’s ear.
“I’m guessing that little imitation of Mario Andretti you just did was to get a reaction from me.” When Hal’s eyes caught hers in the mirror and shifted just slightly, Valentina shook her head in mock disappointment. “You know what else I’m guessing? That if you insist on taking out your frustrations onmy classic convertible, it’s gonna cost you a lot more than what my father is paying you. I’ll make sure of it. Think about that the next time you feel like acting like an adolescent jerk.”
Then she lifted her nose in the air and slammed her way out of Big Blue.
Hal smirked for a moment when he thought of how he had admired the sexy bounce of her heart-shaped ass as she stomped away from him and into the bakery.
Then he scowled again.
Damn pig-headed woman.How long could she keep this stubbornness up? Hal knew Valentina had things to do and appointments to keep. They were written in her elegant handwriting on the desk calendar downstairs. So far, she had cancelled a dentist appointment, a salon appointment, and a yoga class: all in favor of staying home and locking herself in her room in a childish protest.
Too damn bad and get over it. There are worse things in life than having a father who cares about your safety.Hal had no patience for self-indulgent bullshit, and if this kept up too much longer, he was going to tell her that.
Tomorrow Valentina had something scheduled calledBread Day. Hal wondered idly if she would cancel that too. Bored out of his goddamn mind, Hal listened to the clock ticking and watched the ceiling fan swirl in a never-ending pattern going nowhere—round and round it went—caught in an endless cycle. It would just continue until someone turned off the switch.
Thinking about it, Hal couldn’t help but make an ironic comparison to his own life.
He had come close to doing just that—to turning off that switch.
As had become his habit, Hal ran a light finger over the scars that riddled his face. After the road blast in Kandahar, Hal had woken up in the military hospital in Ramstein, Germany. It had been a slow, painful awakening that happened in degrees. And every time he came to—every damn time he forced open an eye or moaned out in despair and monster pain—his sister, Glory, had been there. At times, he had thought she was an angel calling him home, but then she would pull him back to earth and whisper desperate words to make him stay. With a constant incessant buzzing in her brother’s ear, Glory had cajoled and badgered and even implored him with angry tears. She never gave up that fight. Not in Germany, not in Maryland, and not one single day since.
God, Hal was so damn thankful when Jules had finally taken Glory off his hands.
