Page 24 of Penthouse Prince
“What’s up, li’l sis?” Dak waves to me with a dishrag from behind the bar. “Did you come to help me dry dishes?”
“Actually, I’m here for cheese fries. But I’m happy to help out.”
As I hop up onto a bar stool, Dak calls out my order to the cook, then tosses me a dishrag of my own. He grabs a few freshly washed pint glasses and slides them across the bar, which is built entirely out of repurposed surfboards. With its chill, beachy vibes, Dak’s has become sort of a staple for both tourists and townies.
“So, how’s the summer-break life?”
“I slept in till eight fifteen this morning,” I say, unable to keep myself from bragging as I grab a pint glass and stuff the towel inside. “So I’m practically a night owl now, right?”
My brother, who famously slept in well past noon every weekend of high school, chuckles. “Congrats, you made it past the ass crack of dawn, you psycho. I don’t know how you survive those five a.m. alarms during the school year.”
I let the jab go. It’s all part of the brother-sister banter that’s normal for us. “How are things here?” I gesture to the bar, noting that it’s even cleaner than usual. “It looks great in here, by the way.”
His eyes brighten. “I have to keep it looking good since Lex is swinging by soon. I can’t believe he’s never been in this place.”
“And I can’t believe he has a daughter.” I meet Dak’s eyes, and his brows scrunch together.
“You didn’t know about Grier?”
I shake my head. How is he surprised right now? Every time Lexington’s name’s been brought up for the past several years, I’ve shut the conversation down, as fast as I possibly could.
“How long have you known?” I ask.
Dak’s lips form a tight line as he flips through the calendar in his brain. “Two months before she was born, I think. Maybe three. I just remember that they let the gender be a surprise. Personally, I was hoping for a boy so they could name him Dak Junior.”
“They? So Grier’s mom was closely involved?”
A snicker leaks out from behind his smug smile. “Uh, yeah, she was involved. Do you know how babies are made? It takes two to tango, you know..”
I roll my eyes so hard, I’m slightly nervous they may never come back down. “You know what I mean, Dak. I’m asking what the story is. You know, was she a girlfriend? Or . . . a wife?”
“What’s it matter to you?” His tone is gruff as he folds his arms over his toned chest. “For the past ten years you’ve practically plugged your ears every time I mentioned Lex. Now you suddenly want to know all the dirty details of his life. What gives?”
Okay, so I guess he did notice that.
I straighten and finish drying another glass. Play it cool, Corrigan. “I think it’s reasonable to want to know the origin story of the little girl I’m suddenly responsible for.”
Dak lifts a brow, his lips barely hinting at a smile. “So you took the nannying gig?”
“I guess so.”
“What do you mean, you guess so? Either you accepted it or you didn’t. Which is it?”
“I’m not answering your questions if you aren’t answering mine. Whatever happened to Grier’s mom? Was she, like, a criminal or something? Or did he end up a dad the old-fashioned way—somebody left baby Grier on his stoop in the middle of the night?”
Dak shakes his head. “Two very interesting theories, drama queen, but they’re both wrong. It’s not my story to tell, though. You should just talk to Lex about it.”
I squirm on my bar stool, remembering how I so blatantly asked about Grier’s mother when I first ran into Lexington in the park. A move that bold might not bear repeating. But if I can’t get any answers out of Dak, I might not have a choice.
“Yeah, maybe I will,” I mumble, sliding the now dry pint glasses back across the bar to him. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you,” he says. “For helping out here and for helping out Lex. He really needs another set of hands, and I know you could always use some extra cash in the summer.”
“Speaking of, what’s the family and friends discount on those cheese fries?” I ask, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.
Dak chuckles, tossing his dishrag over his shoulder as he shakes his head. “For you? They’re on the house. A favor for a favor.”10* * *LEXINGTONWhen the doorbell rings, Grier shrieks and runs ahead of me to the front door. I hold back a laugh as she stretches to reach the knob, fails, and turns to pout at me like I purposely put it too high. Have I mentioned that my daughter is pure sass?
“It’s okay, love bug. Daddy’s here to help,” I say as I pull open the door, expecting Corrigan.
