Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(75)

“She’s not like that last one, is she?” Ma scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. I frowned.

“Nothing like her—”

“Ha!” They both pointed at me in unison.

Mom and Adriana had never looked so much alike, the wide-lipped beam and heralding posture. Same height, same eyes, same haughty expression.

I was prepared to pay for that verbal hiccup for the remainder of the day, probably the rest of my life, really. Now that they knew Ophelia existed it’d be a miracle if my sister didn’t find her on Instagram within the hour, no name necessary.

“I promise it’s not what you guys think it is,” I said. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Okay…” Addy slammed the trunk closed and stuck to my side as we raced each other up the driveway. “You’re not dating her, but you’re fucking her.”

“Adriana!” Mom looked near ready to faint.

“Nope, not doing that either,” I confessed, speeding through the side gate that led into the backyard, suddenly wanting to see exactly how much elbow grease would be necessary to get the buckets planted. Hopefully a fuck ton so I had an excuse to skip dinner, because I was no longer hungry or in the mood to talk about my love life and Ophelia any more than I already had. You don’t bring your friend with benefits to Christmas dinner for the same reason you don’t talk about them at Christmas dinner.

Because it’s like metaphorically sitting with your dick out at Christmas fucking dinner.

“Mom.” Adriana paused, eyes widening to saucers. “This one is serious.”

I laughed. “You’re reading so far into this, it’s hilarious.”

“So if it’s nothing, why are you hiding it?”

“It’s not nothing.” I shook that sentiment away. “But it’s not something—never mind, can we drop it? She’s not from here, she’s too young for me…”

“How old is she?”

“Not old enough.”

“Just tell us her name!” Addy fired back.

“Why—” My heels stuck into the grass at the center of the backyard, a spark of something between shock and discontent straightening my spine.

The plot of land where the garden was gnarled and dead three months ago was now sowed and replenished, fresh grass growing in bright green patches, a little sprinkler system waving back and forth over new seeds.

“The garden…” I pointed at it. “You cleaned it up.”

“I had some help.” My mother’s shoulder lifted, too small a gesture to be a shrug.

“Not me.” My sister shook her head as I turned to her. Judging by her apprehensive expression I could see I was about to be introduced to a situation I wasn’t prepared for. My skin prickled in anticipation, the heart-in-my-gut feeling returning tenfold.

“Who?” I asked sternly. The tables had turned quicker than the weather on a Florida afternoon.

“It was me.” A foreign voice ripped my attention to the sliding door off the back porch as it closed. To a man I’d never seen in my entire fucking life, standing on the outside of it, as if he just let himself in and out of my mother’s house like he owned the place.

My pulse drummed in my ears. Who the fuck was this guy? On my porch in his tailored chinos and Christmas sweater? With a dorky looking combover like a regular Clark Griswold?

My gaze narrowed. “Who’s me?”

The stranger stepped off the deck and joined us in the center of the yard. My instinct to protect had me sliding in front of Addy and Mom like a barrier.

“Charlie Wright.” Clark Griswold extended a palm. “Excuse the cliche, Frankie, but I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Charlie.” My mother stepped between us. She reached for him, but tellingly decided against it. “Frankie.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” I mumbled.

“This is Mom’s new boyfriend,” Addy inserted herself. “They met at the clubhouse. He’s been helping her do a lot of updates around here. You noticed, Frankie. The paint, the camera…”

“I noticed.” My blatant assessment must have been making Clark uncomfortable, because he laughed. I suddenly couldn’t wait to tell Ophelia how funny I was. I couldn’t wait to see Ophelia, actually. I wished like hell she was standing right next to me at that very moment.

“The food is ready inside, Mar.” Clark put an arm around her lower back, and up until that point, I’d never before thought about how easily I might be able to snap an arm if given the appropriate reason.

“Perfect!” My mother clapped, waving us in the direction of the back door. “We can talk more over pasta and smelts. Charlie, Frankie bought me the most incredible flowers. You can help him plant them after we eat. Yes?”

“Of course.” He nodded enthusiastically, following her lead toward the house.

Addy nudged me onto the deck behind them, warning me to behave with a tight squeeze of my wrist. “Come on.”

I brushed her off, hurt I’d been kept in the dark for so long. Long enough for this guy to stick his claws in and claim something that clearly didn’t belong to him. Long enough for a stranger to slide into the place at the table I comfortably occupied for the entirety of my adult life, and before me, the father that raised us and loved the woman he married with all of himself. Long enough for the gutters to be replaced, and the walls to be painted, and the garden to be fucking replanted.