“Tripp?” I shake my head at his shift in conversation. “No. He said his sister and mine were in the same sorority and Laurel wanted to get ahold of my sister.”
“And you believed that?” He snatches his suit jacket off the back of his chair and shoves his arms into it as if he’s taking down a wild animal.
“Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because he was flirting with you.”
“No, he wasn’t.” That’s stupid. Tripp Dawson was not flirting with me. Was he?
“Yes.” He fastens the buttons with fast jerking movements. “Yes, he was.” He grabs his briefcase and narrows his eyes. “You need to study harder so you don’t get behind. And while you’re at it, stay away from Tripp Dawson. Guys like him are only after one thing.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alexander
Family Dinner–Seven Hours Later
My mother hands my father the bowl of mashed potatoes. The bowl is one of those heavy ceramic ones with a blue line around the top. She’s used it since I was a kid. “Here you go, dear. I hope they’re not too dry.”
He glances at her over the top of his black-rimmed glasses and drops a spoonful of the potatoes onto his white and gold porcelain plate.
“Mom, I’m sure they’re perfect.”
She worries about things she doesn’t need to fret over. But my father isn’t easy to please at the office or at home. He’s a perfectionist, and little lives up to his expectations. If the potatoes aren’t up to his expectations, he’ll give her a rundown of everything that’s wrong with them.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Son.” He turns his attention to me. “You don’t know if your mother did a good job with the meal, so hold your reassurances until we’ve tasted the food.”
“Yes, sir.”
She sits across from him and clasps her hands together at the table’s edge. The white tablecloth is pristine. If we get something on it, she’ll purchase a new one. “Are they too runny? Too much butter?”
“Mom, they’re going to be delicious as always.” I take the bowl from him and add some potato next to the pork chop. The melted butter oozes across the top, making my mouth water.
After my father takes a bite, he swallows. “Did you use one cup of milk?”
“Yes.” She nods and watches his expression.
The corners of his mouth rise slightly. “They’re perfect.”
For several seconds, we eat in silence. When my father scrapes his fork against the fine China, my skin crawls. Growing up an only child in this home was painful. My only reprieve was going to my cousin’s home and later to Sean’s house. Not that they had a clue who Sean’s father was. Even then, he used his mother’s maiden name.
My mother rests her fork on her plate. “How was work today?”
“It was fine.” The bread is like a lead weight in my gut. Tripp flirting with Daisy makes my blood boil. She might be too naïve to recognize his actions, but I’m not. My fingers fist around the fork.
“Are you enjoying filling in at the university?” She smiles reassuringly. “You always loved teaching.” After college, I substituted for my high school math teacher a few times a month.
“You’re right. I like explaining concepts to people who don’t think they’ll understand it. It’s exciting to watch their eyes light up when they get it.”
My father grabs his wine glass and takes a sip. “You should focus on your work.” Disapproval drips off him. Unlike my mother, he doesn’t think I should do anything besides focus on our family company.
I exhale to relax the stiffness in my shoulders. “I thought you’d appreciate me volunteering to help at the university. It’s your alma mater, and you preach about keeping up appearances. Filling in during John’s absence will boost our standing in the community.”
And I needed something to stretch my creative muscles before I dropped my resignation on my father’s desk and flew to an island beach to teach surfing lessons. I’ve never surfed for a day in my life.
He nods while studying me. “Good point. It’s an excellent community outreach measure. Be sure to name-drop the business at any functions you attend. Maybe we can do an interview for a business magazine and get some additional exposure.”