doing in here,” I said with a wince. She was going to give him the business. “Sorry.”
“Completely worth the hassle.”
I was glad to know he felt that way, too.
“Come over tonight,” he said. “Just for an hour or so. We can have a quick dinner and then... whatever.”
Goddamn, his blush was just the cutest thing. “I like whatever,” I said gravely, and he swatted me. I headed for the door before I started kissing him again.
“JJ,” he said when I was almost to the door.
“Yeah?”
“I'm no expert in flings, but are you sure we’re doing this right?”
I chuckled, gesturing at what would now be known as the scene of the crime. Someone should just draw a chalk outline of our dicks. “Doesn’t it feel right?”
He didn’t laugh as I expected. “Yeah. It does.”
My smile faded as I sobered quickly. I knew he wasn’t just talking about the sex. Somewhere along the line, I’d started thinking about us as potentially… more. I didn’t know how that would work, especially if it hadn’t worked the first time, but Cameron made me wish things could be different.
If I thought there was a chance he’d take me back, I’d go for it, logistics be damned. But he’d made it clear that he wasn’t willing to go there again. If he thought we were in too deep, he’d call even this “fling” quits. I couldn’t have that. Not yet.
“Don’t forget to eat your lunch,” I said lightly before I left his office.
*
I hoofed it back across the street to find my father doing the crossword puzzle. He smirked when he saw me. I tried not to flush as I slid into the booth. I folded my arms when he didn’t say anything. There was no possible, earthly way he could know what I’d been up to.
“Your zipper is down,” he said casually.
I looked down so quickly, my eyeballs almost caught whiplash… only to find my zipper perfectly zipped. I huffed as his mouth curved. “We’re just friends.”
He nodded knowingly. “That’s what I do for all my friends. I hang out near their jobs, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. And when that fails, I buy them lunch and hand deliver it. And by deliver it, I mean—”
“If you’ve ever loved me at all, you won’t finish that sentence,” I pleaded.
He chuckled. “You should invite him to your brother’s shindig.”
“Once I figure out what a shindig is, I certainly might.”
“Every year he has a barbecue to celebrate his and Charlie’s birthday. You know that. It’s next weekend. The boys invite Foster every year, but he never accepts. Probably thinks it’s a pity invite. I think it would mean something if you were the one doing the inviting.” He sent me a stern look with his pen poised over the crossword. “You didn’t forget your brother’s birthday, did you?”
“Of course not,” I said automatically.
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. I just hadn’t been around to attend one of his beach barbecues in many years. John and his firstborn son, Charles, were born on the same day, and they always celebrated together. I had a feeling that would get old one day, but as a five-year-old, Charlie seemed to love it. He also loved Paw Patrol and chicken nugget pizza, so his taste was pretty questionable.
“Every damn year.” He clucked his tongue. “You’ve missed three of ’em, so this year has to be special.”
“I already got Charlie a camera, and John a new grill, old man. Top that.”
“I will,” he vowed.
“Maybe I’ll make them something special as well.” I perked up. “You know, when I went to Egypt—”
“If I can’t pronounce it, I’m not eating it.”
“How delightfully closed-minded of you,” I said sourly. “I don’t know why I bothered to learn regional dishes for you heathens.”
“Neither do I. You should’ve learned how to make some damned fried chicken. And some macaroni and cheese.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom already taught me how to make those things.”
We both froze a little. Even all these years later, we didn’t usually bring her up. It wasn’t because we didn’t remember, rather it was because we remembered all too well. It was like avoiding a tooth in your mouth when you’re eating because it’s sensitive and sore. If you never addressed it, eventually you just learn to chew a different way. We’d learned to live a different way, tiptoeing around the subject of Lori Sutton.
My father looked at me wistfully. “I never knew she taught you that.”
“Sure did. I also know how to