Page 11 of Special Delivery

Jordan raises her hand, the other one holding the steering wheel. “I say he’ll call her a very special someone.”

I slap her shoulder playfully. “Not fair. I said it first.”

“Not when we were making the bet.”

“I say she’ll be blonde,” Emma adds.

I groan, my options depleting. “Fine. I say she’s over ten years younger than him.”

“Deal,” Emma says.

None of us end up right.

The hostess ushers us to the private room of the fancy restaurant overlooking the ocean. Three people occupy the plush, forest green, silk velvet chairs. Friendly chatter fills the room as the sun paints the sky with warm colors on its descent. Dad smiles when he notices us and gets up from his chair where he was talking to a woman.

The two of them reach us, and a déjà vu hits me when he wraps his arm around her shoulders. Still, the motion is the only familiar part, because the woman our dad is hugging is nothing like the ones we met before. She’s beautiful, yes, but instead of platinum blonde, her hair sports a natural gray color. She must be somewhere around Dad’s age, which is a shock on its own. Her makeup is unassuming, and she’s wearing a long, brown dress, showing off her figure in an age-appropriate manner.

Dad pulls her in even closer. “Girls, this is Kim, the love of my life.” He introduces her, stretching her smile even wider.

Wrinkles frame her smiling lips and eyes, making her look warm and inviting. Not once have I heard him mention someone as the love of his life, and I’ve met quite a few special someones.

“Kim, these are my girls. Jordan and Paige are my daughters. Emma is Jordan’s wife and a bonus daughter of mine.”

Emma grins and reaches her hand out toward the unfamiliar woman. Kim shakes her head and pulls her into a hug. “Any family of Roger’s is family of mine.”

I glance at Jordan, and the two of us roll our eyes internally. We’ve experienced so many of these situations that we’ve developed a code of conduct. We act polite but use the time to gather dirt on the subjects. This time, our subject is a challenge. She’s nothing like we expected, so we’ll need to adapt our strategy. Kim lets go of my sister and I’m next in line for a hug.

Even though my instinct is to be on guard, I can’t deny her hug is amazing. She doesn’t hover. No, she pulls you in as if you’re actually family. She also smells nice, and when the hug is done, it’s hard to remember I’m supposed to hate her.

It’s a pact Jordan and I made years ago, when we noticed Sandra, Dad’s second wife, acted differently when he wasn’t around. It didn’t take us long to figure out she was just after his money. Their marriage lasted four months, but it was four months too long.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, girls,” she says after hugging Jordan. Her voice is sweet, just like the rest of her. She wraps her hand around my wrist, pulling me forward. “Come, let’s sit down and get to know each other.” Just as I take a step toward the empty chairs, the remaining sitting figure stands up in front of me. My neck cranes to smile politely at the now-standing figure, as Kim says, “This is my son, Ryan.”

A warm flush spills over my body as my eyes connect with his. No, this can’t be happening. The light gray pools hide an imperceptible smirk as recognition crosses his face. Fortunately, he starts by shaking hands with Jordan and Emma, leaving me ten extra seconds to pull myself together. Still, as a corner of his mouth hooks beneath his beard, I know there’s nowhere to hide. This man saw more than enough already.

He knows my full name and address, and worst of all, he knows my house is now filled with sex toys. Including tentacles that have no business calling themselves sex toys.

A pause stretches before my brain catches up to what I’m supposed to do. Eventually, I put out my hand for him to shake. Even with sweat covering my palms, electricity zaps up my arm at the contact. His shake is firm yet gentle, but it doesn’t help my embarrassment one bit. My eyes catch on the way his dark blue button up hugs his defined chest and biceps and the way his thighs are visible under his tan chinos.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, waiting for him to mention something. To make a joke at my expense.

But it doesn’t come.

Other than the slightly higher tilt to his lips that others probably hadn’t noticed, there isn’t an ounce of recognition on his face. He introduces himself without a single mention of our previous, less than comfortable, encounters. A warm breeze of relief brushes over my shoulders. Maybe I’m safe.

Once the introductions are over, Kim shows me to a chair right next to her. The place might not be ideal, considering she’s a person I just met, but I’m grateful to get away from Ryan. Except, just as I lower my ass into the expensive chair, I notice him doing the same directly across from me.

Did someone put a curse on me? Should I hire an Etsy witch to clean my aura of all the bad juju?

Jordan and Emma are clueless to my internal struggles, giggling as a server pours them drinks. I’m next, and I make sure he tops off my glass. Taking a hefty gulp of the wine, I decide to at least focus on Jordan and mine’s mission—interrogating Kim. Which, coincidentally, sounds a lot like chit-chatting.

“So, Kim…” I say, clearing my throat of the humiliation still stuck in it. “How long have you known Dad?” I pair the question with a warm smile.

Crow’s feet pull at the corners of her eyes as she glances at my dad lovingly. She’s an excellent actress; I’ll give her that. Most of his girlfriends focused so much on impressing Jordan and me that they forgot to pretend they were into our dad.

“Roger and I have known each other for a long time.” There’s nostalgia in her voice, like there’s more to that story. “But we reconnected after running into each other at the farmer’s market.”

“You were at a farmer’s market?” Jordan’s head snaps toward Dad.