Page 75 of Craving Danger

Getting up from the chair, I take my cup to the sink. “I just have to pack the last of my things, then we can go.”

“By last of your things, you mean you haven’t packed at all,” she teases me.

I chuckle as I walk out of the kitchen to take a quick shower before throwing everything in the suitcase.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I unlock my phone and send my mystery man a text.

Samantha: I’ll be back in New York at five. Do you want to come over tonight?

I set the device down beside me and put on my ballet flats.

Within minutes, a reply comes through.

MMM: What time do you want me there?

Samantha: Anytime after five.

MMM: It’s a date.

Tucking my phone into my handbag, I drag my luggage to the front door before I join my parents in the kitchen again.

Dad’s eating a bowl of oatmeal with a disgruntled expression, and it has me teasing my mom. “See, you also force Dad to eat healthy stuff like Ms. Jameson forces Mr. Parker.

Mom slants her eyes at me. “It’s for his own good.”

With Mom standing behind Dad, she’s not able to see as he mouths,‘It’s disgusting.’

Mom takes the bag from the trashcan and says, “Make sure your father eats every last bite while I take this out.”

“Okay.”

The moment she disappears out the backdoor, I reach for the bowl and shovel the oatmeal into my mouth. I manage to make a huge dent in it before I have to pass the bowl back to him.

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter.”

I roll my eyes at him and swallow before I mutter, “I’m your only daughter, Dad.”

“Right.”

Mom comes back inside and takes one look at the almost empty bowl, then says, “What did you do with the rest of the oatmeal?”

“I told Dad I’d visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas if he ate his breakfast.”

Smiles erupt on my parents' faces.

“That’s wonderful news,” Mom exclaims, then she taps Dad on the shoulder. “See, it’s good when you eat your oatmeal.”

Dad gives me a wink, then tells Mom, “I’d eat anything you put down in front of me to have Sammie here for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Mom washes her hands, then asks, “Are you ready to go, sweetie? We don’t want to be late for your flight.”

“Yes.” I make a whining sound as I get up and pout. “It sucks being an adult. I wish I could stay longer.”

“Us too, sweetie.”

I kiss Dad on the cheek. “Thanks for an amazing week, Dad.”

“Anytime. Let us know when you land safely in New York.”

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