I pulled out a pitcher of sun tea and some glasses.
“So, you’ve gotten what you wanted.” Sinclair stood in the kitchen doorway leaning against the door jam.
“What do you mean?” I loved Sinclair, but that didn’t mean I always liked it when she used her twin Spidey-sense on me.
“Play coy if you want, but I know you. I just hope this isn’t to get in her pants. I hope that whatever it is between you two is more than that.” She stepped into the kitchen.
“The way she feels about me, I’m sure she’s wearing a chastity belt.” I had no doubt that Trina’s pussy was locked up as tight as Fort Knox. Not that I wasn’t averse to finding the key, but my goal was more than that. This crazy attraction to her needed to be resolved, one way or the other, even if it meant my finally getting over it and moving on.
Sinclair laughed. “You could be right. Maybe you could loosen her up a bit. She takes life too seriously.”
“I thought it was just me she was prickly around.” I put ice in the glasses.
“She’s most prickly around you, but she’s pretty intense and judgy around most things. She likes order and control, two things that aren’t associated with you.” She looked toward my windowsill. “Don’t forget the mint. It will be a nice touch.”
I laughed, thinking it was strange to have my sister playing cupid. “Thanks.” I pulled two leaves from the plant.
“I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You’re not staying for some tea?”
“Nah. I’ll let you get started on your bet. Play nice,” she ordered.
“I’m always nice,” I said as I poured tea into each glass.
“Oh yeah. Hopefully, she’ll play nice.”
I wasn’t going to hold my breath. At least, not initially. Trina was a sexy, beautiful woman, but like a rose, she had thorns and wasn’t afraid to use them. My hope was that I could wear her down enough that she could put her thorns away, and we could be friends. Okay, I wanted more than friends, but if that’s all I got, I’d accept that. What I had a hard time with was how hostile she was to me most of the time after we’d grown up together as friends.
I put a mint leaf in each glass and once Sinclair left, I took the glasses to Trina’s room.
“Tea?” I asked as I entered the room. Trina was standing by the window, looking out over the vast Nebraska landscape.
She turned and quirked a brow in suspicion.
I laughed. “It’s just iced tea.”
She took the glass I extended to her. “There’s no Long Island in it, is there?”
“I’m off bartending duty now. Besides, I’m not the type of husband to slip his wife a mickey.”
She frowned. “That’s too weird.”
“What is?”
“You calling me wife.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t feel so weird to me.” I sort of liked it, although it could be that I enjoyed it because it bugged her so much. I liked pushing her buttons, which might be why she was always wary of me. I’d have to work on that.
She smirked. “Come on, you’re not the marrying type.”
The comment annoyed me, but I tried to hide it behind a sip of my tea. “Why do you think that?”
“What is your longest relationship? A week? Two?”
Ten years, I thought, but who was counting? The truth was, since high school there had been something about Trina that I’d never been able to get out of my system. The fact that ten years later it was still there, even though she clearly barely tolerated me, said something about me. I wasn’t sure if it said that I was capable of a long-term relationship or that I was delusional in thinking I could change her mind about me. If anything, though, it showed I was patient.
“Does that mean you’re not the marrying type? Because I haven’t seen you in any sort of long-term relationship.” The idea of another man calling her wife didn’t sit well with me. I rolled my shoulders to release the tension that idea caused.
She shrugged and turned away. “I’ve got more important things than worrying about men.”
“Like what?” I leaned against the wall as I watched her. She said she didn’t like the décor, but to my mind, she fit in the room. Maybe not with the old blankets, but she had a classic beauty and a traditional sturdiness, just like the house.
“Like my work.”
“And?” I prodded.
She turned. “This is the twenty-first century. Women don’t need a man to define their lives.”
I held my free hand up in surrender. “I’m a feminist too. I’m not saying women need a man. But let’s face it, mankind needs men and women to forge relationships to ensure continuation of the species.”
“Darwinism dictates that the strongest women mate with the strongest men, too.”
I frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you’re saying I’m weak?” I flexed my bicep. For a second, I thought I saw a flash of appreciation in her eyes for the round hard muscle, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.
“My point is that you and I wouldn’t be a match mother nature would arrange. We’re incompatible,” she said.
“Really? I thought opposites attract.” To be honest, there were times I wondered why I still carried a torch for this woman. I was either a glutton for punishment or cupid had a deranged sense of humor.
“In romance novels, maybe. But in real life, no.”
I sighed. “You’re a hard woman, Katrina.”
Her breath hitched like it always did when I called her by her full name. “You can’t tell me that I wouldn’t annoy you just as much as you
