Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband) by Dinah McLeod Read Free Book Online Page B

certainly could not afford it, but I decided not to remind him of my wrongdoing. “There’s no way you’re going to get in and out of there in an hour.”
    “I’ll take an extended lunch.” He said it with a shrug. “They owe me.”
    The finality in his voice decided it. I knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “OK. I have to run out and get a few things for the house today.” I let that sink in, waiting. I knew what was coming, what always came after I got a ticket. The inevitable long-suffering sigh, the warning to be careful, the look that said he didn’t trust me to obey traffic laws.
    “Alright.” He smiled widely, much to my surprise. “How’s eleven-thirty for lunch?”
    “That’s it?” I asked dubiously.
    Oliver paused, his brown eyes quizzical. “Does that not work for you?”
    “No ‘keep it under sixty’, no ‘remember, it’s not a race’, no ‘looks like we won’t be having a very merry Christmas this year’?”
    He chuckled at my attempt to mimic his deep, even voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that last one.”
    “Maybe not,” I admitted.
    “Look.” He grabbed for my hand, and this time I let him take it. “We talked about it last night. As far as I’m concerned, it’s done.”
    “Talked?” I echoed. “You mean you spanked me.”
    He nailed me down with his stern stare. “It’s done.”
    I nodded and allowed myself to be kissed before he headed for the shower. I sank down on the bed, exhausted, but wide awake. He’d certainly given me a lot to think about.
     
    * * * * *
     
    I was more than a little bit awed when we walked into Fredricks’. It was the first restaurant he’d ever brought me to, desperate to impress me on our first date. What he hadn’t expected was that after three courses, a bottle of wine and a dessert, our bill would be almost three hundred dollars. Oliver had barely brought seventy, and as an unemployed college student, I didn’t have much to chip in.
    Luckily for us, the owners had taken pity on us, and let us wash dishes in the back. It had been an odd date, but somehow still romantic. We’d stood side by side, our elbows touching as we’d scrubbed plates and silverware. At one point, he’d splashed the water deliberately, sending a spray of water shooting toward me, soap suds and all. When the water hit me, I spluttered, looking down at my dress in disbelief. A big, sudsy bubble was on my dress, but when Oliver grinned at me, all I could do was laugh.
    We’d come a long way from the kids we had been back then. As the fondness of the memory washed over me, I reached for Oliver’s hand and took it in mine, giving it an affectionate squeeze. He turned a tender smile on me and looked like he would say something, but the hostess stepped up and announced that our table was ready. We followed her to our table, and Oliver pulled out my chair and motioned for me to sit down.
    “Guess our usual was taken,” I mused, looking at the window seat that overlooked the bay.
    “Oh, well,” he shrugged.
    I took a look around, surveying all of the small, built for two tables. Every table had a crisp, linen tablecloth and an array of beautiful, expensive fresh flowers that permeated the air. Candelabras lined the wall, their candles flickering and lending a romantic ambiance to the restaurant. This place held a lot of memories for us. We had celebrated a lot of anniversaries here, and we often came for Valentine’s Day or my birthday. Which led me to my next thought— what was the special occasion today?
    “Thank you for bringing me,” I said to my husband.
    He looked up from the menu he’d been studying—I didn’t know why he bothered. He always ordered the Veal Parmesan. “You’re welcome.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “Hmm?”
    “I mean, is there a special reason you brought me here today?”
    “Can’t I take out the most beautiful woman in the world?”
    I was taken aback by the flattery, and I couldn’t help but