Page 18 of Where It Begins

“Fuck,” he mutters. “That’s probably my son.”

“Why don’t you make sure no one tries to jump out the window, and I’ll keep these two from attempting a runner before you read them the riot act?” I offer.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind unless you’d rather I go. But you might need someone to drive the girls home? I may be the less awkward option, seeing as I have the same equipment and I’m not the angry dad. Totally up to you, though. And if you want to deal with the upstairs issue before you decide, that’s also okay.”

“You’re amazing.” He rushes up the stairs.

I stay where I am, in the middle of the hallway. I’d like to cross my arms, but it makes my ridiculous cleavage more of a problem.

A minute later, the young man whose butt I’ve seen comes out of the kitchen. He’s dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. He’s lanky, with dark brown hair that curls around the back of his ears. I note tattoos on his arm as he runs his hand through his hair.

He startles when he sees me, and his gaze darts from my face to my chest and back up. “Oh hey, uh, hi. You must be Sid’s date.”

“I am.”

He nods a bunch of times. “Cool. Uh, I should probably go.”

I tip my head. “I’m pretty sure Sidney is planning to tear you a new one for using his house as your sex pad before you do that.”

The young woman who was bent over the couch appears in the hallway. She pauses when she sees me, and much like Randall, her gaze drops to my chest before it springs back to my face.

“Um.” She appears to be on the verge of tears.

“Is your friend upstairs?” I ask.

She nods once.

“I’m a friend of Miller’s dad, and I have a feeling that Randall might need to stick around here for a bit. If you would like, I can drive you and your friend home. Your other option is to be part of the dad wrath. Neither is ideal, but I’m probably the less awkward of your choices.”

She bites her lips together. “Do you know where Randy is?”

I tip my head toward the kitchen. “Right here. Would you like a moment?”

“Is that—Can I?”

“Absolutely.” I motion for her to go ahead while I move away from the doorway.

They whisper frantically. She’s clearly panicking, and as bad as I feel for her, it’s also hilarious. A minute later, the pounding of feet on the stairs ends their conversation.

I step out from the hallway just as a young man who is definitely Sidney’s son, but with lighter hair, appears at the bottom of the stairs. His face is beet red, and his eyes are wide as saucers. A young woman with sandy brown hair appears behind him, followed by Sidney.

He looks from the group of red-faced teens to me. Apology is written all over his face. And mortification.

“I can take the girls home if you’d like to deal with the boys,” I offer.

His son’s head whips my way, and his face goes impossibly redder as he mumbles, “Oh my God.” He looks like he’s trying to sink into the floor. He’s a big kid. They’re both tall, but where Randall is lanky, Miller is broad, so either of them blending in is impossible.

“I can take Claire and Millie home,” Randall all but shouts.

Miller elbows him in the side and Randall grunts.

Sidney crosses his arms. “You two need to explain yourselves.”

The girls look at me. I motion them forward.

Sidney’s gaze shifts my way. “Are you sure?”

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