Page 91 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“Why don’t you let them in?” he suggested. “This idiot doesn’t want to pay to heat the whole neighborhood.”
“And this idiot is a bit cold,” I added, my eyes meeting with Dad’s briefly in solidarity before shifting my gaze back to Lena.
She cringed and stepped back, beckoning us inside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you on the porch!” She looked down at our linked hands. “Aw, you guys are so cute together. They make a cute couple. Don’t they, Dad?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She’d clearly been working Dad over hard these past few days, and it was clear she’d enjoyed it.
“What do I know?” Dad said wryly. “I’m an idiot.”
“But an idiot who loves his son,” she reminded him.
“Cooper, we’ve got the ingredients all ready to go for your casserole,” Dad said, gruffly changing the subject. Not that I could blame him. Lena wasn’t so much acknowledging the elephant in the room as dancing on its back. “If you, uh, still want to make it this year?”
“He better,” Trace said, finally speaking. “He promised me it’s the best I’ll ever taste. Now, he has to deliver.”
“What happens if he doesn’t?” Lena asked, smirking.
“Well, then I’ll be disappointed,” Trace said. “And we don’t want that, do we, brat?”
“No, Da—” I coughed to cover my mistake. No fair he could call me brat in mixed company! That triggered my “Daddy” response. I shot him a glare, but he just smiled at me. “Damn,” I said, hoping everyone would think that was what I’d intended to say. “I would really be bummed if you didn’t love my favorite dish.”
“I’ll love it,” Trace said without any doubt. “I’d love anything you made.”
“Geez, you two have it bad, huh?”
Dad shuffled awkwardly. “I better get back to the kitchen.” To Trace, he added, “There’s appetizers on the dining room table.”
“You’ll be okay here?” I checked.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll take good care of him,” Lena said, grinning.
Uh-oh. I wouldn’t want to be Trace just then. She looked far too happy to get him alone. As I walked away, I heard her saying, “So Trace, tell me what you really think about my brother. How did you two get together anyway?”
* * *
TRACE
I’d braced myself for an awkward, incredibly tense dinner with Cooper’s family—but thanks to the orphan Thanksgiving, the house was full of college kids. With them there, I was just one more guy. They had no idea what kind of tension stretched between me and their host, allowing me to simply exist in the crowd.
Lena peppered me with questions at first, wanting to know how Cooper and I had come to be together. I avoided the most invasive questions, giving her a general timeline of our relationship.
“I can’t believe you’ve been seeing one another since September!” she said, shaking her head again.
A pretty redhead approached, asking timidly for directions to the bathroom. Lena turned, and I made a run for it. I had long legs, and I used them to carry me away from Cooper’s sister, in no hurry to field any more personal questions.
Seeing the students chattering in small groups, clustered close to a large dining table laden with crackers, cheese, olives, and other dips and spreads, I could appreciate how my relationship with Cooper must look to Matthew. Not only because Cooper was his son, but because he spent his days working around young people in a position of authority. The idea of dating one of them must feel inherently wrong in his position, as it should.
A niggle of doubt tried to worm its way in, and I shut it down, reminding myself that Cooper was an adult, and I had no authority over him, other than the amount he freely gave. There would always be people who questioned our age difference, as Matthew had, but I was far too attached to my brat to let that stop me.
Cooper returned to my side sometime later, plucking a green olive from my plate and popping it into his mouth. “You okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Just filling up on appetizers. What about you?”
“The corn casserole turned out great. It’s nearly done.”
“That’s good,” I said. “And what aboutyou?”
Cooper rolled his eyes, the brat, and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s awkward,” he said. Apparently I’d gotten off easy, hiding in a crowd while Cooper was enclosed in the kitchen with his dad. “We sort of avoided talking about it. Talked about food prep instead.”
