I quirk a brow. “Warn me?”
“I’lltake that as a no,” Tiffany says. Then she laughs.
I turn around at the sound of the doorbell, dread in my gut at what I’m now thinking is a setup.
I look at Lance, who hollers, “Not it!”
Fucker!
“Kendra,” my mom says when she answers the door. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
Well fuck!
My eyes narrow at my father. He chuckles as he walks past me to the dining room. The dining room is where my mother hosts guests; the kitchen table is where we have family dinners, but now that I’m looking around, I see that the kitchen table doesn’t have a single plate on it. I’ve been bulldozed!
A pretty, tall woman with shoulder-length blonde hair walks into the kitchen. Like I said, she’s pretty, but I find myself comparing her to the curvy little thing I met two months ago.
God dammit! Two months and I’m hung up on a woman I’ll never see again. But I can’t manufacture attraction, and while this woman is likely a lovely person, I can’t find an inch of desire when I look at her.
“This is my son, Caine,” my mother says by way of introduction.
“Hi,” I retort, not knowing what else to say.
“Caine, this is Kendra. She’s a teacher at Jackson High School, the private school in town,” my mother says.
I smile politely.
“How long have you been teaching?” my sister asks, saving me.
“Thank you,” I whisper to her as I walk away.
I see the frown on my mother’s face as I make my way into the dining room. My father is setting the table for dinner, placing glasses by everyone’s plates.
“Want some help?”
He chuckles. “That didn’t take long,” he says, still laughing. “Grab the water pitcher from the hutch.” He uses his chin to point to the China hutch against the far wall.
“You could have warned me,” I grumble with annoyance.
I walk to the wet bar and fill the pitcher with ice and water before placing it in the center of the table.
“And have you come up with a reason for not showing up? I like my place in my bed, thank you very much,” my dad says, shaking his head at me.
Well, that was gross. There are definitely things I don’t need to know about my parents, and that’s one of them.
Once the table is set, and everyone is seated, we begin to eat dinner.
“Caine, did you know that Kendra teaches AP Algebra?” mymom asks as I pass her the potatoes au gratin.
Why would I know that?I think to myself, but have the presence of mind not to say out loud.
My mother pulled out all the stops tonight, making all my favorites. Prime rib roast, gravy, green beans and homemade Caesar salad.
As my mom sings Kendra’s praises, the poor woman looks mortified. I feel bad for her, and she clearly feels bad for me.
“I didn’t know that,” I reply. “Do you like teaching high schoolers?” I can be polite. I’m not always an asshole… just most of the time.
“The AP classes tend to be more serious students. But high school is tough. Kids deal with a lot at that age,” she replies thoughtfully.
