Page 41 of Kiss My Glass
“This all right?”
“Give,” she says, and pulls it on.
Oh my. My shirt has never looked so sexy, and I say that as a person of not insignificant vanity. Lil Danny stirs in my Calvins but the need for coffee overrides everything. I hand Frankie her mug and carefully slide in beside her holding mine.
“Don’t speak,” she says.
No problem. Morning coffee is a sacred ritual and woe betide anyone who interrupts before the requisite level of caffeine is ingested.
We sip in worshipful silence until Frankie says, “Is it early or late?”
“It’s ten past seven,” I reply. “So … neither?”
“Shelby and Nate usually have breakfast at eight,” she says, without enthusiasm. “I guess I’d better be there.”
“I have granola and fruit downstairs,” I suggest.
“Ugh.” Frankie shudders. “Breakfast can only be eggs, toast, hash browns, waffles, or pancakes. The only acceptable side is bacon. No tomatoes or mushrooms ever.”
“Any style of egg?”
“Well-cooked scrambled,” says Frankie firmly. “Or an omelet if it’s not gooey inside. Plain only. None of those spinach and feta abominations.”
“We shouldbothgo to breakfast,” I say. “Not fair on you to take all the heat.”
Frankie sighs. “Why does life have to involve other people? It’d be way less complicated if we were all in our separate bubbles.”
“No dancing in separate bubbles,” I say. “No torture sex, either.”
“I warned you,” says Frankie, laughing. “And I alsosaid we could take turns.”
“True…” I give her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose?—”
“Nope,” she says, pushing away the covers that she stole. “If I’m going to face the court of Nate and Shelby, I need to look my best. First dibs on the shower, and if it doesn’t have a decent-sized water tank, then tough luck.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
FRANKIE
Oh boy, good times. Danny and I walk into the kitchen to find not only Nate and Shelby, but also Cam and Ava. And not one of them, not even Cam, is pretending they don’t know exactly what went on last night.
“I’ll make double the amount of eggs,” says Shelby, beaming from ear to ear. “Figure you’ll be extra hungry after all that ‘dancing’.”
She makes air quotes with her fingers because of course she does. It’s a wonder she doesn’t also jiggle her eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
Even Nate is grinning. I realize I’d expected him to disapprove of our –my –flakiness, but I suspect the Durant siblings relish any opportunity to get one over each other. I’m trying not to look at Danny but I can’t help one glance to see how he’s taking all this. He’s got his poker face on, which means he’s doing better than I am, but I’m not sure he’ll be able to keep it intact. I can see Ava’s itching to pile on in.
“It’s that house,” she says. “It’s so small, you can’t help getting horny for each other. I mean, Cam and I were at it within minutes,” Ava persists. “Maybe it’s the way the wood smells. It’s like a timber aphrodisiac.”
Cam leans back and raises his eyes to the ceiling, like he’s praying for some kind of natural disaster, a meteor strike perhaps, to intervene and make it stop.
Nate’s not happy, either. “Must you?” he protests. “This is only one step away from talking about our parents having sex.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you,” says Ava, “but that’s how they came to have five children.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to think about it,” says Nate. “Change of subject.”
And he turns to me, damn him. “How did Danny acquit himself with the Lindy Hop moves?”
