Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “What else would we be talking about?”
Now my cheeks grow an even deeper red. I am so mortified I want to run out of the room. I shake my head. “Sorry, of course. The silverware. The silverware is all, um, polished.”
A smile tugs at her lips and then twists as she tries to suppress a laugh.
I sigh. “You often use sayings from France, and I thought…”
I don’t complete that sentence because I will go to the grave before I tell her what I thought.
She collects herself and then clears her throat. “Are you trying to say all three of them polished your silverware?”
“Oh god,” I groan, hiding my face in my hands. Thankfully, we’re alone in the kitchen, as all the staff hired for the event are taking a break before the luncheon begins. But that doesn’t do much to stifle my sounds of absolute mortification. Add this to the list of reasons not to host a luncheon after having sex with all three of the hottest men you’ve ever known.
“I was wondering why you’re walking around today like you biked across all of Europe last night.” She isn’t even trying to hide her laughing now. “You certainly never walked like that when you were still married.”
“Odette,” her name comes out of my mouth in a long, pained groan.
“My girl,” she says when she’s recovered from her laughing. “There is nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, after all I’ve seen, I consider it to be practically noble. A woman who has good sex is an act of rebellion. And you look like you’ve been having very, very good sex. So, go on and lead your protests against a world that takes far too much enjoyment from seeing a woman never know pleasure.”
My burning hot cheeks make way for a smile. It does feel like a rebellion. A rebellion against my old self and the life I thought I knew.
“Why didn’t I talk to you about these things sooner?” I finally say. “You could have saved me a lot of trouble.”
“Well, I’m here now.” She pats my hand with a maternal affection from her that takes me by surprise. It feels nice.
“Now let’s make those boys sweat. Just kick me under the table if you think I’m being too hard on them.”
“Deal,” I say and stand up to escort her to the dining room.
Someone must have let my family in because my Dad and Ryan are already seated at the long oak table. Daisy stayed home with Jessica, unfortunately, but I can also understand why. Trying to get a toddler to sit at a fancy lunch for hours sounds like a torture technique.
I introduce Odette to my dad and brother, and then we settle into our seats. The rest of this luncheon is up to the guys. I’ve prepared them as much as I can.
“You didn’t tell me your dad was so handsome,” Odette whispers to me.
I look at her confused, and then shift my attention to my dad. I tilt my head and try to see what she’s seeing, but he’s my dad. He’s not exactly looking like George Clooney as he ages, and he’s a relatively small man. But he does have a kind face.
My dad looks at Odette with a broad smile that I’ve never seen on him.
Well, at the very least, this luncheon will be interesting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ruby
“Move over,” Dean says loudly as he hovers over Levi, who sits next to me.
I shake my head no, trying to signal for him to stop making a scene. They look like the epitome of grace in their button-up shirts and tailored pants, but they’re acting like absolute menaces right now.
“I like this seat,” Levi argues back, slipping his hand under the table and squeezing my knee.
“The name tag has my name on it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.
“Is that what you’re so worried about?” Levi leans back in his chair and picks up the silver clip containing Dean’s name in calligraphy. He reaches it over and switches it with his so that now Levi’s name is the one next to mine at the table. “There,” Levi says smugly.
“I’ve kicked your ass before and I’ll do it again,” Dean says matter-of-factly.
Odette lets out a squeal of delight. So much for her being tough on these guys. I guess it’s my turn to intervene.