Kimber Chin

Crystal drained the last of her coffee and reluctantly set the cup down on the diner table. She didn’t want the evening to end. She was having too much fun.

Ken squished up one side of his face, closing an eye. “Give me your cup,” he drawled, John Wayne styles, his wide shoulders brushing hers.

Crystal smothered a smile, a miraculous feat as the quiet man, when he did speak, was hysterically funny. And devilishly attractive.  And unbelievably sexy. “I don’t drink coffee, thank you,” she quoted tartly, sending the rest of his family off into peals of laughter.

“Well, now,” Ken’s make believe eye patch switched to the other eye, “what do you drink?”

“I’m partial to cold buttermilk.”

Magnified disgust. “Well, we ain’t got none of that. We ain’t got no lemonade neither!”

She couldn’t hold back any longer.  She collapsed against him, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. He leaned into her, his big body shaking, his hand splayed on her hip, clasping her close.

Ken’s sister was the first to recover, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, Crystal, I’m so glad you’ll be at our wedding.” She patted her fiance’s arm. “There’ll be guaranteed laughs and…”

“At your wedding?” Crystal repeated, dumbfounded. Was he planning to see her again? She looked up at Ken. His face was red, out to his ears, like he’d been in the sun too long.

“I haven’t asked her yet, squirt,” he ground out, silencing the table.

“Oh, no,” his Mom gasped. The sister slapped a hand over her mouth. The brothers snickered and jabbed each other with their elbows.

“Then ask,” his dad boomed. “What you waiting for? Da- fool.”

“Dad,” a growl of warning. Ken slid the empty cup between his two big palms, clearly embarrassed.

“He doesn’t have to ask.” She covered his moving hand with her much smaller one. “He knows I’ll say yes. Even though,” she squeezed, “You ARE too old and fat to be jumping horses.”

The wide grin returned, dropping years from his face. “Well, come see a fat old man some time!” he quoted right back, and kissed her on the nose.