25
Rhett
Rhett:Come to my room.
Summer: No. I’m not tiptoeing around your dad’s house and having sex with you on the same floor as him. That’s tacky.
Rhett:There is no one I’d rather be tacky with.
Summer:My answer is still no.
Rhett:I’ll come to your room. We won’t be on the same floor that way. Everyone wins.
Summer:You’re an animal.
Rhett:We can call it a team meeting.
Summer:You’re going to call having sex a team meeting?
Rhett:Team building?
Summer:What are we building? LOL.
Rhett: Rapport.
Summer: Nice try.
Rhett:Will you at least send me a nude so I can jerk off all sad and alone?
Summer: You’re pathetic. Wanna go for a midnight drive in the rust bucket? Look for the constellation that spells MINE? ;)
Rhett: Yeah. If I get you down on all fours, I’ll find that one for sure.
* * *
“So, how’s traveling together been going?” my dad asks over a mouthful of food from beside me. Table manners are a lost art in this house. It was enough for my dad to get a full meal down in front of three young boys. Well, four young boys, considering Jasper might as well be one of us for how much he hung around.
He’s here tonight too. Made the trip out of the city for Sunday dinner before Beau deploys again.
“Anyone going to answer me?” Harvey prods.
I glance at Summer, who’s at the opposite end of the table from me, wide-eyed, fork frozen in mid-air.
I almost laugh. She’s a terrible liar.
“Great.” I shrug and stare down at my spaghetti and meatballs. Cade may be a grumpy asshole. But he’s a grumpy asshole who can cook.
“Yeah?” Beau asks, a curious smirk on his face. “The wild child treating you well, Summer?”
She promptly fills her mouth with a forkful of noodles, nodding with an awkward high-pitched laugh, before she points at her mouth apologetically, like that’s the reason she’s not answering.
Her eyes dart to mine. And I laugh. I can’t help it.
“He’s running you into the ground, isn’t he?” Beau asks. Bless him. He’s so sweet, he doesn’t realize the button he’s pressing. Cade does though. I can tell by the way he’s glaring at me across the table.
It’s hard to tell what type of scowl this is, but I think it might be one that says You’re not seriously fucking your agent’s daughter, are you?
I’m not so sure my dad is fooled either.