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“I know. Dad’s being his prickish self.”
“Why would today be any different?” He pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen, where Rafe was wiping down the counters.
“Ciggie break for the beautiful people,” Rafe said, tossing the dishrag into the sink and grabbing his backpack. He zipped out the back door.
Colleen sat on the stainless steel counter. “Get off,” Connor said. “Some people care about where their food is prepared, unlike you.”
“I once ate a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup I found on the sidewalk,” she said. “Yet here I am, still walking the earth.”
“Doesn’t make you less gross. Come on, off.” He shoved her toward the stool and sprayed down the counter, full of martyrish zeal.
“I don’t like Gail, God knows,” Colleen said, “but I don’t see Savannah being better off with them divorced.”
“I imagine you asked Dad why they were splitting up.”
“Yeah. He didn’t answer. My money’s on Hot Young Mistress 2.0.” Poor Gail. Her whole identity was being hot young mistress/wife...and even if she wasn’t quite as young as she used to be, she was still a helluva lot younger than Dad.
Poor Gail. That was a new thought.
“Con,” she said, “you ever miss the old Dad?”
Her brother stopped his anal-retentive cleaning and looked up. “What old Dad? He’s always been a prick, Coll.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he passed to the sink and began rinsing cilantro.
“Not always.”
“He was. He just liked you more, so you didn’t notice.”
“Doesn’t seem that simple.” She looked at her brother’s face. He was in the Food Zone, hypnotized by the smells and textures of his work. “Why did you get all the Zen genes?” she asked.
“Also the smart genes, don’t forget.”
“Is that what your woman tells you? Oh, by the way, I figured out who it was.”
“Did you?”
“Julianne from the library.”
“Nope.”
“Damn. Okay, I’m leaving. Monica and Hannah are both on tonight, and that dopey Annie. Have a good one.”
He looked up. “Be careful,” he said after a beat.
“Yep. No drinking and driving, no unprotected sex.”
“And no tuna fish.”
“Got it.”
“Are you cooking, or is he?”
“I am.”
“Poor Lucas.”
“Hey, why don’tyoucook for us? I can come pick it up just before seven.”
A jaundiced look. “No, Colleen. I’m not making you two your pre-sex meal.”
