The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(25)
“So, let me get this straight,” Parker says. “You’re back. You’re doing the yard, helping to pay the bills, and practically a live-in babysitter so she can go out on dates with her college crush?”
“He’s your college crush?” I ask Clarissa, who rolls her eyes, ignoring my question.
Parker is all too happy to fill me in. “Oh, yeah, she was googly-eyed for him for years. He’s a real estate mogul.”
Clarissa pipes up, shaking her head. “Uh, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“He’s got a ten-inch cock, endless bank account, and practices Ju Ju Jetsu or some shit, which means he’s lethal.”
“He had a green belt in Karate when he was ten,” Clarissa snorts, “and I haven’t seen his cock.” Her bright blue eyes dart to mine at her confession, and she backtracks when she sees my smirk. “Not yet. I haven’t seen it yet.”
They haven’t been intimate? She’s been dating him at least a month. This pleases me, though it shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t. I need to stop obsessing, but I can’t help my slight satisfaction with all that’s been revealed today. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance I could be more than her baby daddy. It’s not much, but it’s better than no chance in hell.
“Oh, he’s packing,” Parker assures. “Marion told me so.”
Clarissa drops the dish in her hands, and it clanks loudly in the sink. “Marion slept with him?”
Parker’s enthusiasm plummets as she turns to Clarissa, “Oh, crap, babe, she didn’t tell you? Yeah, they dated for like ten minutes.”
Clarissa looks at her pensively. “Do you know why they broke up?”
Parker turns back to me, ever the menace. “Probably because she couldn’t handle all that sausage, she’s a vegetarian.”
“So, you think I have some gaping vagina?”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” I chuckle and stand. “This has been ridiculous. Parker, nice meeting you.”
“Pleasure is all yours.” Parker turns back to Clarissa. “No, love, you don’t have an overstuffed taco. I’ve seen your puss, it’s pretty.”
“I second that,” I say before two sets of eyes laser my head off.
I make my exit, chuckling as Clarissa hisses at Parker behind me, “Did you have to go that far?”
“I got a little carried away.”
I shut the door and join Dante in the yard, just as the drone sets sail.
Michelle’s Hash Brown Casserole
Dude Ranch Housekeeper, Florida
Makes 8 servings
1 hour and 30 minutes
2 Lb. Bag Tater Tots or Hash Browns – Defrosted and Crumbled
1 Pint Sour Cream
1 Chopped Onion
1 Can Cream of Mushroom Soup
2 Cups Shredded Cheese
2 Tsp. Salt
1 Cup Melted Butter
Topping:
2 Cups Crushed Corn Flakes
1 Stick Melted Butter
Mix all ingredients together. Pour into 9 X 13 baking dish. Place topping on mixture.
Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.
Clarissa
“What are you doing?” I ask Parker as she stands rapt at the window.
“Just enjoying the weather.”
Dante opened the last of his presents half an hour ago and has locked himself in his room to make a video, while Parker and I soak up a little adult time with a newly uncorked bottle of Pinot.
“You’ve been standing there for ten minutes,” I say, wiping my hand on a towel before shining the sink. I don’t remember much of my mother, but do remember the way she took pride in her cleaning, always shining the faucet after she was done with the dishes. One of the few memories I have is the two of us elbow deep in suds while singing together. My mother loved soul, the classics, that much I do remember. It’s what brought her and my dad together.
Dad used to tell me she was born an old soul, someone who didn’t quite fit musically or fashionably in the time they existed, and that’s what he loved most about her. “She had depth,” he used to say, “I saw that first before I knew the color of her eyes.” I have my mother’s neon blue eyes, her most remarkable physical attribute, which only made his sentiment mean more.
Dad never remarried after Mom died, but had a special place in his heart for the ladies. He had lots and lots of girlfriends, who taught me a lot about a lot. Because of his eclectic tastes, I can cook a variety of dishes and have collected a ton of mixed advice about men, mostly about my own father, while his flavors of the month packed up and moved on.
Parker sips her wine. “We should have a wine day soon since you’ve got a good, reliable sitter.”
“I’m game, I could use some adult time.”
“Yeah, me too,” Parker says a little breathlessly.
“You’re probably freaking him out,” I warn as she stands fixed at the window.
“Good, I want him afraid of me.”
“Oh, I think you blew that all to hell with the horribly delivered death threats.”