He passed into the den and plopped onto the old comfortable corduroy sofa that had been new when he had Marilyn were high school sweethearts. They'd come close to breaking it in once or twice, but Marilyn had a thing about keeping her panties on back then. Rumors in town were that she still did. He put his booted feet on the coffee table and crossed his arms over his chest. "Comfy." Nicola narrowed her eyes to slits and let out a low, fast tirade of incomprehensible Spanish. The two years of Spanish he had been forced to take in high school had obviously ill-prepared him for the sharp tongue of a native speaker. Hell, he wasn't even sure it was Spanish. He should have recognized at least a couple of words. He held firm. He wouldn't let the little witch scare him off this time. He cocked one brow up at her, daring her. She ground her teeth and stomped off into the adjoining kitchen where she thrashed pots and pans around. He picked up the television remote and clicked on the set, scrolling through the stations and finally landing on the prep sports score recap.
