How to Tame a Silver Fox novel · Chapter 4 of 32

Chapter 4: The Pantry

"It wasn't a tactic," I said, in the car.

"I know."

"You don't know that."

"You were shaking, Willa. People shaking aren't running a plan." He put the car in drive. "Do the next one on purpose, and I'll know the difference."

I looked out the window all the way home and said nothing, because he was right.

That was the part I couldn't forgive.

At breakfast the next morning I wore my hair down.

I wore my mother's cardigan over a camisole, one button done.

My father was reading the market report out loud, and Sabrina was feeding him blueberries off a fork.

Arlen sat across from me with his coffee.

He had a very specific way of reading the paper, one corner folded back.

I slipped off my sandal under the table.

I found his calf with my bare foot and ran it slowly up his shin.

He did not look up from the paper.

"Willa, are you cold?" Sabrina asked sweetly.

"A little."

"You should wear socks."

"I'll try."

My foot went higher, and Arlen turned a page.

My father said something about interest rates.

Then a warm hand closed around my ankle under the tablecloth, not hard, just exactly enough to hold it still.

He had not moved first.

I had put my foot into his hand, and he had simply closed it.

His thumb moved slowly over the bone of my ankle, and the bone turned to water.

"Arlen, you've gone quiet," Sabrina said.

"Interest rates," Arlen said. "I find them gripping."

His thumb slid higher, toward the back of my knee.

I knocked over my water glass.

It went across the table and into my father's lap.

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