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TWENTY
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SHRIEKS OF LAUGHTER sounded from upstairs as I whisked a dozen eggs in my kitchen around ten on Sunday morning. I was usually up much earlier, but it was amazing how talkative and loud a group of girls could be after getting back from a club at two a.m.
I’d gotten waaaay too much detailed information about their night out—courtesy of quite a few espresso martinis, apparently—but I couldn’t deny it was nice to have the house full again. When Serena had lived here, it was never quiet, with someone always visiting.
And many times, that someone was Preston.
Beneath the shot of lust that came whenever I thought of him now was an undercurrent of guilt. Even though Serena had basically given her blessing for whatever was happening between us, he was stilltechnicallyher boyfriend.
The alternative to that, though, was to come clean about what was really going on, and no way was that happening. It didn’t need to. Not when Preston and I were just enjoying each other for the time being, no strings attached.
But then I thought about the strange stab of jealousy I’d felt with him yesterday. Neither of us owed each other anything, butif I knew he was spending time in anyone else’s bed while still in mine, I’d lose my shit.
It didn’t make sense. But then again, neither did wanting my daughter’s boyfriend, a man half my age. We shouldn’t fit together as well as we did, and I had to remind myself this wasn’t something that could last.
It was fun. Casual. Hot beyond belief. And temporary.
My hand slipped, landing on the hot pan I’d been preheating on the stove, and I jerked back, cursing.
“No need to burn yourself on our account,” Serena said, entering the kitchen as footsteps bounded down the stairs after her. She grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and stopped beside me, running her hand over my back. “You need some help?”
“I think I can handle a few scrambled eggs.” I leaned in to kiss the top of her head and then poured the mixture into the hot pan.
“No eggs benny?” Victoria said, yawning as she took a seat at the kitchen island.
Leslie followed after her, her short hair wild and tangled. “Damn, I was hoping for some French toast.”
“You get scrambled, salt and peppered, with a side of fruit,” I said, pushing the eggs around with a spatula. “And bacon if I don’t burn it.”
Victoria smirked as she reached for the glass of OJ Serena pushed her way. “What happened, you gave the chef the day off?”
“Thechefis right here. But if you’re looking for something fancier that charges you per night, feel free to check into one of the hotels.”
“I’m just playing, Mr. C.” Victoria tossed me a flirty wink. “Plus, I doubt any of the chefs at the hotels look as good as you in the kitchen.”
I almost choked on the coffee I’d just sipped as Serena shoved her friend in the arm. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”
What was with the kids today? They were so damn forward. Had I ever been that way?
I thought back to some of the shit Benoit and I used to get up to, and… Okay, we’d definitely been cocky when we were running about town at their age. It was only with experience and wisdom that the loud cockiness had turned to quiet confidence. Knowing that you didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone.
“I know.” Victoria looked me over in a way that felt a little too intimate, then grinned. “But he’s gorgeous. And single. I have a pulse.”
“And it’s beating a little too fast.” Leslie laughed as she held out a plate for me to scoop some eggs onto. “Ignore her, Mr. C. She’s been on this older man kick.”
I winced at the term, and Leslie’s eyes widened.
“Not that you’re old. I mean, you’re younger than my parents. Actually, my mom would love your number if you’re not seeing anyone right now.”
Growing increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation, I eyed my daughter, who was looking at me with an arched brow, the little instigator.
“Yeah, Dad, are you seeing anyone right now?”
A flash of Preston on his knees in the storage closet came to mind, but I quickly shoved it aside before my body reacted in a highly inappropriate way.
“I don’t think my private life is an appropriate breakfast conversation.”
