She looks at the T-bone on her plate that’s bigger than her face.
“And if I clean mine first?” she asks.
“Then I’ll do the two shots.”
“You were going to do the two shots anyway.”
I snort. Yes, true.
“I’ll do your laundry this week,” I offer.
“No one else touches my underwear, thank you.”
“Yeah, that’s clear as day.”
Her eyes bug out, and my father breaks into a quiet laugh, he and her sharing a quick glance right before he shuts up.
She purses her lips and glares at me.
“Okay, okay,” I say, getting serious. “If you clean your plate first, I have breakfast duty for the rest of the week.”
She ponders it for a moment and then nods once. “Deal.”
I pick up my steak knife and fork, seeing we both have the same cut of meat and the same scoop of macaroni salad.
Her hands remain in her lap.
“Ready?” she asks.
“You don’t need utensils?”
She shakes her head, an unsettling smirk on her face. “Nope.”
Okayyy. You’re so doing these two shots.
“Go!” I yell.
I shovel in a mouthful and look over, seeing her take her plate and set it on the ground.
Huh?
I freeze, watching Danny and Johnny scarf up everything on her plate, one taking the steak and the other tearing off half as they both escape to a corner to savor their spoils.
What the fuck?
“That wasn’t the deal!” I blurt out, food nearly falling out of my mouth.
“You said I had to clean my plate.”
“You!” I reiterate. “YOU had to clean the plate!”
“Semantics.” She takes a swig of her beer, a look of self-satisfaction on her face.
“That was your dinner, honey,” Dad warns her.
She shrugs. “Saving calories for breakfast in the morning.” And then she looks at me. “Pancakes, please. With sausage and toast.”
She laughs, and I growl under my breath.
At least I can still do her two shots.
We sit and eat, Tiernan picking a sweet pickle out of the little bowl and biting into it.
“Snow’s coming soon,” Dad tells us, lifting his beer as he looks at Tiernan. “We’ll hit town a couple more times, maybe get you some low-key attire of your own that fits.”
“She can wear my shit.” I chew my food. “I got plenty.”
“She’s drowning in it.” And then he looks at her again. “We’ll find some jeans that fit that don’t cost three-hundred dollars.”
“Three. Hundred. Dollars.” I arch a brow at her. “What the hell possesses you?”
She scowls and opens her mouth to snap back at me but then she stops, pausing as she notices Kaleb putting a new plate in front of her and scraping off half his steak, already cut up into bite-sized chunks.
He doesn’t make eye contact and goes back to eating and drinking as if nothing happened.
“Uh…” She searches for her words. “Th—thank you.”
I roll my eyes and take a drink of my beer. I should’ve thought of that.
It takes her a minute to remember where we were, but then she glares at me again. “First of all,” she says, “my family’s personal shopper buys my clothes—or bought my clothes—and second of all…they look good.”
“You don’t need to look good,” my father interjects. “Looking good around here ends you up married and pregnant at eighteen.”
“Your sons definitely know what a condom is and so do I.”
I snort.
“Besides,” she adds, “I haven’t had a single boyfriend. When I’ve had three then you can worry about me ending up pregnant and married.”
“Three?” I mumble over my food.
She hesitates, looking like she’d rather not explain herself. “My mother said no woman should get married until they’ve had at least three…”
She waves her hand as if I know how to finish that sentence.
“Three…？” my father prompts her.
“Lovers,” she blurts out. “Boyfriends, whatever.”
I pinch my eyebrows together. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She lets out a sigh, straightening her spine and looking visibly uncomfortable. Finally, she takes the ketchup, Heinz sauce, and A.1. bottle, moving them one next to the other.
“Lust, learn, and love,” she says, placing the condiments and touching her finger to the ketchup. “My mother said the first boy—or man—is a crush. You think you love them, but what you really love is how they make you feel. It’s not love. It’s lust. Lust for attention. Lust for danger. Lust to feel special.” She looks between us. “You’re needy with number one. Needy for someone to love you.”