It comes five minutes later.
Summer:Made it home.
Summer:Thanks again for tonight.
Me:Anytime, Sunny.
And the scariest part of it all is that I mean it.
Chapter Sixteen
Summer
“How’s it going with Ezra?”
I pause mid–pancake flip at my dad’s question. “What?”
We’ve come to an unspoken agreement about my late nights and sleepovers, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have a clue Ezra is responsible for keeping me out way past appropriate, but does he know what I’ve been up to anyway? I’ve gotten good at making sure I don’t look a complete wreck when I sneak inside in the mornings, but has he picked up on it anyway?
“At the cidery, kiddo. Keep up.”
Oh.I breathe a sigh of relief as he pours himself his second and final cup of coffee for the day.
“How’s it going out there?” he continues. “Is he treating you okay?”
I pray my father can’t see the blush that steals up my cheeks at the question.
Is Ezra treating me okay? Considering he’s given me an orgasm every day for nearly two weeks now, I’d say he’s treating me far more than just okay.
But I can’t tell my father any of that.
Instead, I say, “Uh, yeah. It’s going well. And Ezra is ... nice.”
“Really?” he says incredulously. “I mean, he’s a good kid and all, but he’s kind of a dick.”
“Dad!” I admonish, finally letting the pancake drop into the skillet. It’s a rare day when Dad’s going into work late, thanks to some election stuff, so I was able to make him breakfast this morning.
“What?” He shrugs. “It’s true. He wasn’t like that back when he was playing hockey. I don’t think he ever stopped smiling then, and I’d know, because we all followed his whole career. He was going places. We’re talking on-the-path-to-winning-multiple-Cups kind of places. That damn hip injury really screwed it all up. Think it changed him in other ways too.” He takes a sip from the Garfield mug in his hand. “Don’t get me wrong—I think he’s a good man, but he sure isn’t trying to win any kind of Mr. Congeniality award, that’s for sure.”
He’s not entirely wrong. Ezra can undoubtedly be an ass, but there are also so many other sides to him that he doesn’t let people see. Like how he eats sugary cereal in bed or how he texts his uncle damn near every day, just to check in on him. Or how he’s always working so hard on the cidery, not just to make a bigger profit, but to make it better for the customers. That’s why he’s remodeling the kitchen. It’s a big headache for him, but he knows it’ll make his patrons happy.
Ezra is an ass, but he’s selfless too.
“He’s not always a dick,” I defend him, even though I don’t have to. “And he hasn’t been one to me for weeks.”
My dad straightens up at that, his eyes darkening. “He was mean to you? What’d he do? Do I need to kick his ass? Arrest him?”
I point the spatula at him. “Simmer down, Sheriff. He was just ... I don’t know. There’s another guy who works there—”
“Warner?” Dad asks. “That kid hits on everyone, I swear. Heard he’s dating the Hendersons’ son now.”
“He is, but this was before that. He was hitting on me, and Ezra saw it. He didn’t care for it, so he stepped in. He was such a jerk in the moment, but in retrospect, it was actually kind of nice.” I smile, thinking of how Ezra called himfucking Warnerthe other night andhow jealous he sounded. I’ve never found that an attractive trait, but there was something so hot about the fire in his eyes that I couldn’t deny being into it.
“Hmm,” my father says in response, and I dare a glance over at him.
I don’t at all like the way he’s looking at me. It’s like I’m a case and he’s trying to work out all the missing puzzle pieces to it.
Shit, did I slip up and say something I shouldn’t have? Did I defend my boss too much?
