Chapter 31

By the time she actually got to eat her breakfast, Chrissie’s composure was stretched to all new level.  It was the little things that got to her.  The girl at the front counter of Cracker Barrel’s restaurant directed them to a table near a window and asked, “How’s this?”  And Race turned to Chrissie and said, ‘Is this okay with you, or would the sunlight bother you?”

She didn’t say anything.  She just sat down and kept her mouth shut.  Then when the server came by and asked for their drink order, Chrissie deliberated on having the cranberry juice -- which she loved -- or just some coffee, and Race looked up and smiled and said, “She’ll have both.”  Chrissie bit down on her tongue.  Then he asked for extra pecans in her pancakes, an extra order of the hashbrown casserole to take home with them --  “Just in case you want some later.” -- and then held her hand tenderly on top of the table and said, “When was the last time I told you how beautiful you are?”

The irony of the situation didn’t help her mood.  She wanted to not act spoiled, but he kept pampering her, and she wanted to throw an all-out fit to make him stop.  So, when his cell phone rang and he said he needed to take the call and got up to go outside for a moment, Chrissie closed her eyes and dropped her head to her hands, just breathing, cooling herself from an outbreak.  Their waitress cleared their table and laid the check down, and asked, “So, how long have you two been dating?”

Chrissie looked up at the woman.  She looked to be in her forties and had kind eyes.  Chrissie simply said, “We’re married.”

The waitress’ eyebrows rose.  “Really?  I wish my husband spoiled me like that.”  Chrissie just smiled politely, tucked a tip under the salt shaker and took the check up front to pay for their meal.  While she waited for Race to return from his call, she wondered around the storefront, admiring the cute toys and the seasonal decor and stopped in front of the candy display.  She fingered the jars of rock candy, remembering how she used to love those as a child.  

Race appeared beside her.  “Sorry.  That was my racing sponsor.”

Chrissie turned to him.  “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling and glancing at the candies she’d been looking at.  The look on his face made her astutely walk away before he grabbed a handful and paid for them...just because she’d been looking at them.  “My contract is up at the end of the month, and they want me to come in and negotiate a new one.”

“Oh, okay,” she said without any excitement since she really didn’t know anything about his sport or his sponsorship.  He interpreted it differently.

“I’m going to pass on another contract,” he said, watching her closely.

“Why?”

“Because,” he answered, and she knew that it was “because” of her.

She stuck her fists on her hips, about ready to explode.  “Because why?”

“Because I’m done racing...professionally, at least,” he said.

“Are you injured?”

He frowned.  “No.”

“Are you tired of racing?”

“Um...no...”

“Then why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the country store.  “Can we talk about this at home?”

“Fine, whatever,” she grumped and walked toward the door.  He called out, “I’ll be a second.  I’m going to use the restroom.  Meet you outside?”

She gave him a nod and went out to commandeer a rocking chair.  Okay...this was harder than she thought it would be.  That man!  How could she stop being spoiled if he wouldn’t stop spoiling her?  Always putting her first?  When does he ever do anything for his benefit?

And why -- really, why?! -- was this bothering her so much?  Like their waitress said, how many other women wished their husbands indulged them like this?  Chrissie couldn’t even explain her thinking to herself, so she knew no one else would understand why she didn’t want him doing things for her.  It was her perception of it.  She needed to think about why Race did these things for her.  Was it truly because he wanted to?  Or was it because she had him so trained he didn’t know how wrong it was that she’d apparently been letting him spoil her?  It was a screwed-up mess...just another added onto the rest of the screwed-up messes from the past two weeks.

*****

Race watched Chrissie stomp out of the building, and he couldn’t figure out what got her so pissed off.  She hadn’t flared up at him once this morning, but he could see it coming.  He liked seeing her eyes all bright and her cheeks flushed with anger, yet, he didn’t like it that she was so unhappy about something.  He ached to see her smile again...to look at him like she had when she draped her warm body over his chest that morning, kissing him, loving on him, and he wanted more of that.

He looked back at the rock candy she gazed at like...well, like a kid in a candy store.  He selected a couple of each flavor and paid for them at the front counter, and then tucked the bag into the back waistband of his jeans, covering it with his shirt.  He’d surprise her later with them.  Maybe, he would get to watch her enjoying the candies, licking the hard sugar with her tongue...

Crap.  Now he had a hard-on.  Discreetly, he adjusted his pants, shaking out a leg to ease the tightness, as he joined Chrissie on the front porch of the restaurant.  She glanced up, stood up, and walked across the parking lot to his car, not once looking back to see if he followed.  

Okay, so she was really pissed.  How could he salvage the situation?  He ran through a list of all the things she liked to do -- decorating, cleaning, organizing...shopping...Bingo!  Shopping.  He could take her to her favorite store, an overstock warehouse for home decor, a place that smelled like eucalyptus and potpourri and gave him a sinus headache within seconds of entering the double doors.  But he suffered through it before, and he could do it again.

Race maneuvered the car onto the interstate, and Chrissie asked, “Where are we going?”

He smiled and winked at her.  “You’ll see.”

“Race, I want to go home,” she said.

“Come on, Chris.  We haven’t had any fun this past week, and I’m not ready to go home and sit around all day,” he said, hoping she didn’t catch his lie.

She studied his face thoroughly while he tried to keep it cheerful.  “Okay,” she eventually said.  “So, what’s the plan?  Are we going to a ballgame or a movie or what?”

With that question, he second-guessed his idea.  “Is that what you want to do?”

She threw her hands into the air.  “You know what, Race?  I don’t care.  I don’t care what we do.  You pick whatever meets your fancy, and I’ll happily join you.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.  The bag of candy dug into his back.  “Chris, what’s wrong?  Did I say something or do something?  Just tell me what it is and I’ll make it better, I promise.”

He felt her breathing deepen, so he glanced over.  She had her eyes closed and her hands clasped together.  He was about to pull off the interstate and give her his full attention, but then she smiled calmly at him.  “I’m fine.  I appreciate your concern and I’m grateful you want to do something fun.  Take me to my surprise.”

“Okay,” he said slowly and continued driving.  There was something really wrong, despite her words.  She’d been acting funny ever since her and Dena...

Dena!  That nosy, analytical, little...  Ugh!  What did she say to Chris this morning?  It was time Little Sis went back to her own corner of the world.  He was grateful for all Dena’s help and getting him to understand the emotional arena he’d been fumbling through, but she just needed to go.  The Snow Dragon had left, and now the Snow Hatchling needed to get out of his home.  

He was still fuming as he parked outside of Garden Ridge, but Chris’ eyes lit up, and he lost his mind in her blue eyes.  She eagerly unbuckled the seat belt and jerked on the door handle, her smile illuminating her whole face.  Suddenly, he found his hand grabbing hold of her shoulder, pulling her across the console and kissing her senseless.  At least, he hoped he kissed her senseless, because if not...there was going to be hell to pay.

Slowly, he eased away from her.  Her eyes blinked for a second, unfocused.  “What was that for?”

“You’re not mad?”

“Are you trying to make me mad?”

He brushed a curl back that fell across her eyes.  “No.  I’m trying to make you happy.  Anything to make you happy, Chris...anything at all.”

Something in her face clarified...the dark shadow that had been residing in her gazes...the unhappiness...the fiercely controlled temper.  She touched a fingertip to his cheek.  “I think I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

She met his steady gaze.  “Why you spoil me.  My perception was off, but now...I’m sorry if I’ve ever come across as ungrateful and childish and used it against you.”

“You’ve never...”  He didn’t finish that.  She raised an eyebrow, and he clamped his mouth shut and gave her a meek smile.  “Okay, so you’ve got this way about you, but I’ve never minded.  I like to do things for you and give you anything your heart desires.  Making you happy makes me happy.”

She nodded, a little teary-eyed, and he was confused.  Why was she about to cry?  She sighed contently and said, “Yeah, and now I understand that.”  She glared at him for a second.  “But if I ever start acting like a bitch, you need to call me out on it, deal?”

Race sat back in the driver’s seat...utterly dumbfounded.  “Did you just curse?”

Chrissie laughed.  “Come on, Horace...buy me something and I’ll think of creative ways to pay you back.”  She slid out of the car, and he hurried to follow her and that sultry tone of voice she used.  

“Can I offer suggestions on that payback?” he asked, coming around the hood of the car to take her hand.

“No,” she scorned playfully.

“Then don’t call me Horace,” he retorted as she dragged him into Hell’s warehouse.

*****

Three hours later, both husband and wife stared at the trunk of Race’s Subaru Forester, glancing between it and the contents of the shopping cart -- correction, shopping carts.  “It’s not going to fit,” Chrissie said, though she didn’t feel very negative about that.  She’d just been spoiled, and she liked it.  It was all about perception, she mused as she nibbled on a stick of watermelon flavored rock candy.

She discovered the package hidden in his jeans when he bent down to tie his shoe and tried to get mad about it, but she couldn’t.

“It’ll fit,” Race confirmed, tossing his tool kit toward the vehicle’s front seats and crawling inside to lay down the back seats.  Chrissie smiled at his efforts.  His rear end was right there, and she blushed at thoughts of sliding her palm across it.  “There...see?” he called from inside the car.  “Tons more room.”

Chrissie liked a crumb of sugar off her lip.  “Maybe we should have them deliver it,” she offered as he crawled back out to stand next to her.  He hitched up his jeans and smiled down at her.  “It’ll fit,” he repeated.  “Stop worrying.”

“Okay,” she said, “but if you scratch my new stereo cabinet, I’m going to get very perturbed.”

While walking through the home decor warehouse, she saw this beautiful, walnut cabinet that was just low enough and small enough to go behind her couch without getting in the way.  And Race looked at it and said, “You could store the stereo in there,” and so she bought it.  The problem was getting it home.  Oh, it’d fit in the back of Race’s Subaru, but they would have to unscrew the legs and tie the hatch closed, and then where would they put the rest of their purchases?  The new 1500 Egyptian cotton sheets she just had to have and these red drip-stone coffee mugs to replace the ones she shattered?  Not to mention the crystal wind chime in the shape of two frogs kissing, the box of citrus and vanilla candles that made Race’s eyes dilate with such sexiness when he sniffed them, and this black and green apron with the words, Kiss the Cook, scrawled across the front that Race took one look at, grinned and tossed it in the basket.  “That one’s for me,” he said when she narrowed her eyes at him.

“And who will be wearing it?”

He shrugged as he pushed the cart down the aisle.  “Does it matter?  One way or another, the cook will get kissed.”

Chrissie couldn’t help it.  She laughed.  In fact, she spent more time laughing and joking with him while he shopped with her than she had in a long while.  He truly did want to make her happy, and would do just about anything to make her smile.  And while she thought about that, she also thought about Dena’s advice, “Stop.”

Stop acting like a spoiled child.  It was actually easier than it sounded, if she remembered that Race did all this because he loved her, and she could appreciate that.  She could appreciate him.  No more bitchy Chrissie.  She might not remember her marriage or her husband, but from now on, she was his wife...and she loved him very much.