Camera Shy (Lessons in Love, #1)(87)

“I didn’t say anything,” she insists, trying to cover her giggle.

“You’re thinking it.”

“I’m not.”

I glare at her. “You are… Fine. Just say it.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Just get it out, Avery,” I grumble.

“You’ll forgive me?” she asks, giving me an adorable, innocent smile.

“Of course.”

She makes a big ordeal of coughing into her fist. “Your dad”—cough, cough—“is hot.” She bursts out laughing. “Okay, I’m kidding. Kind of. It’s just he doesn’t look his age. Actually, how old is he?”

I narrow my eyes at her again. “Why? You want his number?”

“Oh, stop, Finn.”

I’m not proud to say it, but it would not be the first time one of my dates ditched me for my dad.

“He’s fifty-six, a pilot, disgustingly rich, and has the sex drive of a man in his early twenties.”

Avery shakes her head, her long, brunette waves falling over his shoulders. “Oh, geez. Your poor mom.”

That. That right there is why Avery’s the one. She gets it.

I glance over Avery’s shoulder, watching the hostess heading to our table with my dad in tow. He purposely trails a foot behind so he can watch her ass. It’s like watching a lion stalk its prey. Maybe I should warn her, but judging by that stupid giddy smile on her face, she’s happy to walk right into his trap. Use a condom. Getting child support out of him will be a bitch.

“Look,” I say in a hurry, “my dad is a nice enough guy, but if you’re uncomfortable at any point, we can leave—”

“Finn.” Avery reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You asked me to come here for support. So I’m here. Unless your dad slaps a hockey mask on and starts chasing us around with a machete, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry about me.” She raises her brows. “Worry about you,” she says in a hushed tone as my dad approaches.

“You have my number, honey. Call me after your shift and maybe I’ll let you buy me a drink,” Dad says with a wink to the hostess, who scuttles away, blushing. “Champ!” he bellows. He holds out his arms and I scoot out of the booth to embrace my father. “You look good, Son. I’m so happy to see you.” He clasps his forearm around my shoulders and pats my back with gusto. “So happy.”

“Hey, Dad,” I mumble into his shoulder. My dad still has a solid two inches of height on me. I have a bit more muscle, but not by much. Admittedly, he’s in great shape for fifty-six. “Why are you so late?”

“Ah, I’m sorry, bud. I didn’t mean to be rude. Truthfully, I fell asleep in my hotel room. If I wasn’t staying right upstairs, this dinner might’ve turned into a nightcap. By the time I threw on a sports coat and ran out the door, I was already twenty minutes late.”

I nod, but I’m skeptical. I believe he was sleeping. I just doubt he was alone. “Dad, this is Avery Scott.” Ah, fuck it. I’m just going to say it. Let’s see what she does. “My date.”

She wiggles to the edge of the long booth and rises, her dainty hand extended. “Mr. Harvey, it’s a pleasure to meet you. May I just say Finn is your spitting image.”

Dad takes her hand with a huge smile on his tan face. His salt-and-pepper brows lift animatedly. “Hey, honey. Call me Junior, please. It’s so nice to meet you, too. And no, no way. My boy got all the good looks. Such a handsome fellow.”

“Well, with that, I agree.”

Still shaking her hand, Dad pulls her into an uncomfortably tight hug. Avery’s breasts flatten against his abdomen. “We’re huggers in this family, little lady.”

Penny returns to the table as if she was summoned, and I’m suddenly aware our fanfare of a greeting is blocking the thruway for the servers. She’s holding a platter of drinks and appetizers and she needs us to take our seats.

“Sit with me, baby.” I hold out my hand, pulling Avery to my side and ushering her into my side of the booth. I sit down, closing her in protectively. Dad replaces Avery on the opposite side of the booth after unbuttoning his suit jacket and neatly hooking it on the dedicated golden hanger on the outside of our booth. Man, this place is pretentious.

“Show Me Love, Start Me Up,” Penny mumbles as she slides Avery’s colorful cocktails her way, “and a Johnnie Walker Blue, neat, for you, sir.” She places the platter of fried calamari with four different dipping sauces and the piping hot plate of stuffed mushrooms between us. “Careful, the mushrooms are scorching hot.”

After Dad requests a scotch, we assure her we’re all set and need a minute with the menu before she hurries off again.

Dad raises his brows. “Show Me Love and Start Me Up? Are those drink names?”

Avery lets out a light laugh. “They are, indeed. I ordered two. Would you like one while you wait for your drink?”

“Hmmm,” Dad says, “which are you willing to share?”

“Either. I liked the sound of them both and couldn’t choose.”

My jaw clenches as Dad waggles his brows at Avery. “How about we try them both? We can switch halfway.”

I slide my whiskey over to Dad in a huff. “Take mine, Dad. You’re not a cocktail guy.”