Christy at least had the good grace to look chagrined. “Sorry. You know me. I lost track of time.”
“It’s my fault too,” Brooke admitted.
“No problem,” I said. “But if you don’t mind, I’m goin’ to bed.”
“We are too,” Christy said. “Sorry. Again.” She reached out. “I can take him, Mom.”
I was fine to walk by myself, but I let her accompany me down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Anne passed us and said goodnight on the way to the master bedroom. She opened the door, and I noticed Harold through the gap.
He was sitting up in bed, and the bedside light spread a warm glow across a neat pile of official-looking papers. He lowered a report and met my eyes. Then his lips twitched with a wry grin, and I could almost hear his voice in my head, Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I nodded to show that I understood. Anne must have been waiting for that moment—she’d probably planned it, I realized—because she gave me a goodnight smile and closed the door.
Harold wasn’t my enemy, but he was still keeping an eye on me. Christy must have understood as well, because she was on her best behavior. She kissed me in the doorway and then slipped into my arms for a long, tight hug.
“We probably shouldn’t…,” she said at last.
“Uh, no,” I agreed.
“Do you forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive.” I bent to kiss her goodnight. “See you in the morning. Well, later in the morning.”
“Are you going for a run? I can meet you—?”
“No, I’m going to sleep as long as my stupid body’ll let me.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too. Now go, before I forget that your parents are just down the hall and very awake.”
“Oh my gosh, you can say that again.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed me. “I promise I’ll take care of you properly tomorrow. Err… um… later today. Whenever. Ugh! You know I stink at telling time.”
“I know. And it’s one of many little quirks that I love about you. Now go.” I turned her toward her own bedroom and patted her bottom for good measure.
She gave me a look that made Mr. Big stand up and take notice. Then she laughed and darted back for a final kiss. We lingered over it, and she caressed my hard-on through my pants. “Mmm, you’re a good kisser.”
“Me or him?” I joked.
“You. I kiss him with my mouth open.”
“You kiss me with your mouth open too.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Besides, I swallow a lot when I kiss him.” She glanced into the guest bedroom and then toward her parents’ room.
“Better not,” I warned.
“I know. You’re right. Goodnight. I love you.”
“I love you too. G’night.”
* * *
Much to my surprise, I slept until well after noon. Noon my time, that is. I even felt semi-normal, although my hard-on insisted on some attention.
Pronto, tout de suite, and right away, he said.
Hold your horses. I’m still waking up.
Well, you were dreaming of… I don’t remember, but it was hot. And now I’m in the mood.
I chuckled. You’re always in the mood.
What’s your point?
Maybe you should calm down?
And maybe you should get a grip. On me, dammit! Or go find Christy. She’ll be happy to see me.
Oh, sorry, I said in mock disappointment. That isn’t how this works. I’m in charge here.
Says who?
Says the guy with the bigger brain and opposable thumbs.
So? What do they have to do with anything? I don’t need ’em anyway.
You do if you want some attention.
Oh, no, he gasped. You wouldn’t.
I would.
No! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please? Just a quick handjob? I promise, I’ll behave!
I chuckled evilly and rolled out of bed. My poor hard-on made a tent in my boxers, but I risked the half-dozen steps to the bathroom. No one saw me, and my dick eventually got the message that he wasn’t getting any attention until he let me pee.
He was still sulking about it later, after I finished a shower and joined everyone else in the dining room. It was after ten thirty, but Harold and Anne were both still in pajamas and bathrobes. He was reading the newspaper and lingering over coffee, while she had a cup of tea and was talking to the girls.
They were still in pajamas as well. Brooke wore a UCSD T-shirt and a pair of shorts that showed off her legs. I didn’t exactly stare at her chest, but her nipples made little shadows where they pressed against the thin cotton of her shirt. She saw my glance and turned pink, so I shrugged and gave her a look that combined equal parts apology and appreciation.
Christy wore a Riverwood Wrestling T-shirt and her usual plaid pajama bottoms.
“Hold on,” I said, “where’d you get that shirt? I thought I lost it— Ah, right. So that’s where it went.”
“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “I might’ve stolen it.”
“Might’ve?”
“Okay, fine, I stole it. So sue me.”
“I’d rather—”
Her eyes went wide.
“—get some breakfast instead.”
Her panic turned into a glare. And even though her parents had no clue what I’d been about to say, they’d been married long enough to know an innuendo when they heard one. Harold frowned, but Anne hid a smile as she pushed back from the table and stood.
“What would you like?” she asked. “An omelet? Toast and juice?”
“That’s okay, I can fix something.”
“Son,” Harold said, “she isn’t going to let you make your own breakfast, and it’ll be a lot easier on both of you if you just say thank you and sit down.”
I said thank you and sat down.
Anne’s smile was an older and wiser version of Christy’s. “I’ll get you started with juice.”
“Coffee’s on the buffet,” Harold added with a nod.
“He doesn’t drink it, dear.”
“I know. But I thought I’d do my part.”
She smiled and patted his shoulder fondly. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, while he retreated behind his newspaper.
“So,” I said to the girls, “did you get any sleep?”
“Not much,” Christy admitted.
“We were up talking till almost four,” Brooke added.
Harold innocuously turned the page on his newspaper, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking, Mission accomplished.
“What time did you wake up?” I asked them.
They glanced at each other, and I realized that “woke up” and “came out of our room” would be two different answers.
“Um… about an hour ago,” Brooke said.
I grinned and made her turn pink again.
“We were… making plans,” Christy said. She followed it up with a semi-indignant, “Mr. Sleepyhead.”
I ignored that and said, “Plans that include me?”
“If you must know—”
“I must, I must.”
Harold snorted a laugh behind the newspaper.
“—I thought—” Christy stopped and scowled at both of us before she continued, “If you must know… I thought we could go to the zoo.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
She gave me an intense look and said, “You know… the zoo.”
I still didn’t make the connection.
“The. Zoo.”
Yeah, I understand it’s a code word, I thought at her. But I still don’t get it. (Honestly, she was a lousy conspirator.)
Brooke stepped in at that point, and she was much better at it. “We thought we’d hang out. You know, just the three of us.” She didn’t put any extra emphasis on the word “three,” but her expression told me all I needed to know.