“So what? I’m not allowed in the main house?” Rick turned to me. “Gave him half of my DNA and that’s how he fucking treats me.” He tutted and shook his head. “I saw your car in the driveway,” he told Brutus, turning to him again, “and wondered what had brought you home so early. For a second, I thought the Townsends fired you, but we know they’d all be lost without you. The last time we played golf, Robert went on and on about how invaluable you are to them.”
“Townsends?” I asked, looking between them.
“Yeah,” Rick answered quickly. “He told you who he worked for, right? Hey,” he continued, not bothering to wait for an answer, “what are you cooking? It smells delicious.”
“That’s for us,” Brutus growled. “You’ve already had dinner.”
“You can stay,” I said, squeezing Brutus’ arm. “Brutus made eggplant parmesan.”
“Hot damn!” Rick declared. “That was one of your mama’s best recipes,” he said to Brutus. “She only made it once for me, but I remember it being good.”
At that, the buzzer for the oven went off.
“Perfect timing,” Rick said with a beaming smile. He took it upon himself to slide on the oven mitt and remove the casserole dish from the oven.
“What the hell—”
“It’s okay,” I said, tugging on Brutus’ arm.
“He’s interrupting,” he said to me.
“He’s your dad and he wants to have dinner with us,” I told him.
His face softened.
“Ah, don’t let my son bother you none,” Rick said. “He might look scary as all hell …” He paused, a wrinkle in his brow. “Nah, heisscary, too. But for you,” Rick pointed at me, “he’s a damn teddy bear.”
Laughing, I wrapped my arms around Brutus’ waist. “I kind of figured.”
“Yeah, you’ve got him wrapped around that pinky finger of yours,” Rick continued while setting out three plates and serving up spoonfuls of the eggplant. “You might have to contend, some, with that job of his. He’s like me in that way.”
“Like you?” I asked at the same time Brutus made a noise at the back of his throat.
“A workaholic. That’s why none of my relationships lasted. I never had time for anyone. Not for the long haul anyway. Who wants to be stuck with a man who can get called away for hours or days on end?”
Rick continued to talk as he brought the plates over to the kitchen island. All the while, Brutus grew stiffer in my arms.
“That’s probably why his mama never told me about him. She didn’t think I would make time for him while he was young.”
“That’s enough,” Brutus said harshly.
Rick finally stopped talking, a stunned expression on his face, like he hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable his son grew the entire time he spoke. He slid one of the plates in front of me along with a fork and a napkin.
My stomach growled as soon as the smell of melted mozzarella and tomato sauce hit my nose.
“Let’s eat,” Brutus said, but his phone ringing punctuated his last word. Instead of ignoring it, he answered brusquely, “What?”
I watched as his eyebrows spiked.
A curse ripped from his throat. “Where are they? I’ll be there in ten.”
My heart rate kicked up at the seriousness in his voice.
“Problem?” Rick asked.
Brutus looked at his father. “Code black.”
“Holy hell,” Rick replied, looking worried.
