At the kitchen table Max sat, nude in the summer air, his french blue eyes scanning the newspaper spread before him. Delia’s hand smoothed over his ...houlder as she passed, headed for the ancient coffee pot that sang on the stove. She poured them both a cup, hers thick and sweet with cream, his black as his byzantine curls. They sat together and looked across the table at each other. Something good and dirty flashed between their eyes, a spark of igniting fire over the rims of their mugs. “When. He even preaches sermons about you now and then, says you’re proof saints still walk on earth.”Jen glowed with pleasure and embarrassment in equal measure. “And Dean?”Shaggy seemed reticent, somehow. “Him, we call Warrior. The shelters have televisions, and a lot of us saw the VA series, and the public service announcements. Besides, one look from him when somebody gets too close to either of you makes them realize touching you might not be such a good idea.”They turned and looked at me and I. More

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