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I smile into my glass of sweet tea, feeling like a kid with a crush, nervous and giddy. But I know this can’t go any further than that, even if our conversations did seem to border on flirty at dinner. I have to keep these feelings to myself, for Ollie’s sake as much as my own.
Living under the same roof as your crush is one thing. Living under the same roof as yourbest friend’s attractive dad who knows what your vagina looks likeis another thing entirely.
CHAPTERFOUR
EVAN
In the end,I agree to let Oliver and Natasha invite some friends over for a Saturday barbecue.
“Did you remember to pick up hot sauce?” Oliver yells.
I glance up from the novel I’m struggling to focus on, as Oliver and Natasha pad around the house making last-minute preparations for their gathering.
“It’s in the pantry,” Natasha calls back from the kitchen.
I’ve parked myself in the private office I’ve set up in the smallest of five bedrooms, resolved to keep myself scarce. Despite my initial reservations, I must admit I’m impressed by the work they’ve accomplished over the last two weeks.
My lake house has been completely transformed.
Gone is the moth-eaten furniture, stained carpets, and hideous wallpaper. Oliver and Natasha not only stripped the house down to its bare bones, but they also dressed it back up with fresh paint and floor polish. They even washed the damn ceilings. When I realized just how serious they were about making improvements, I gave them the go-ahead to shop for new furniture at my expense. I already knew Natasha was organized, but she proved instrumental in coordinating our schedules to ensure someone would always be at the house to greet the plumber, electrician, cable- and deliverymen when they showed up.
“I don’t see it,” Oliver says.
“Second shelf down, on the right.”
After a short pause, he replies, “Oh… Found it.”
I bristle as the pantry door slams. I knew when I agreed to let them host a gathering that I would be giving up my weekend of relaxation and peace after a long, busy workweek. But I’m willing to make that sacrifice. Repairing my relationship with my son is worth the minor inconvenience upon my schedule.
Leaving the comfort of my private office, I follow the sounds of frenzied mixing and chopping into the kitchen where I find Oliver and Natasha locked in a discussion about condiments. I lean against the door frame and wait for them to finish, letting my gaze roam over her bare, shapely legs.
Natasha catches me staring, her smile lighting up the room. “Hi, Dr. Ransom.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “We share a vacation home, Natasha. You can call me Evan.”
“Sure,” she says. “Just as soon as you start calling me Nat.”
My lips curve upward before I can school them straight.
“Are you planning to eat with us?” Oliver’s cool demeanor stands in stark contrast to Natasha’s warmth, but I don’t let it get to me. I knew rebuilding our relationship would take time and effort.
“Of course he’s welcome to eat with us,” Natasha says, shooting Oliver a firm look. “He’s letting us host a barbecue at his house.”
“Thank you, Natasha,” I say with a grateful smile. “But I plan on eating dinner in my office. I just wanted to remind you that while I’m allowing you to serve beer at this party, that doesn’t mean I’m condoning underage drinking.”
I can’t help but look at Natasha.
“Five people hardly counts as a party,” Oliver mumbles.
Natasha ignores him and nods in understanding.
“I won’t drink,” she says. “I promise.”
“Good.” I watch her for a moment longer, taking in the swish of the blue sundress as it twirls around her bronzed thighs.
“Is that all you wanted to say?” Oliver asks, looking impatient.
I force myself to look away from Natasha as a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. It’s not the drinking I’m worried about, although that certainly is a factor. It’s the fact that I don’t know whether she intends to have sex during this party, and I can’t ask her about it without coming off as inappropriately invested in her sex life.
