His Temporary Assistant

“If you and Dad want to come…” I trailed off, feeling awkward as hell.

If they had an arrangement that worked for them, fine, but I didn’t know if I could just play along. I’d have to keep trying, because my father was my dad regardless. Their choices were their own.

Even if they would never, ever be mine.

My mom’s smile faltered. “No, that’s for you boys. A lot to talk about, isn’t there?”

I smoothed a hand down my vest. It wasn’t too wet anymore. “Dad told you? Or your mouthy son?”

“Wasn’t me this time.” Dex mimed zipping his lips.

“I talked to your father.”

“And you came to see if I’m on a ledge yet.”

“Yes, to see if you’re ready to put out your parachute and fly.”

It made me smile. “No wonder you like Ryan.”

“I love her. She has the most wonderful energy.” She nudged Dex toward the door. “Go on now. Enjoy your threeway.”

“If you insist, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and opened the door, glancing over his shoulder at me one last time. “She’ll be back. You know Shaw men are irresistible.”

“Keep telling your hand that.”

He closed the door behind him with a grin as I shut my eyes in horror that I’d said that in front of my mother.

Obviously, I was not fit for public consumption today. Or possibly any day until Ryan came back.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“I’m going to blow your mind, Preston. Not only have I had sex, I know what masturbation is.”

“So, um, how’s the plants?”

She laughed and bent to start picking up the items off the floor. “Just fine.”

I rushed around the desk to help her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. But with two sets of hands, any task goes quicker—and is more fun too.” From where she crouched on the floor, she pinned me with a direct look. “Seems like you’ve just discovered that too.”

“Not just, but yeah.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing down the part where I spilled all my feelings like a jackass who’d never been in love before.

Because I hadn’t. And I could tell myself it was just the jalapeños I had on the sub I’d gotten for lunch, but I knew better. I wouldn’t be coming out of this so-called haze in a few weeks.

Or a few lifetimes.

“I think I’m like a penguin.”

“Come again?”

I grabbed some of my fancy gold pens—all the same for visual continuity—off the floor and stuck them in my cup, also gold. “I saw this special once. Penguins mate for life. They may not find their specific bird for a while, but when they do, they don’t see any other birds. It’s like this one singular, specific one is the only one they want. And if their mate dies, they are destined to be forever alone. Staring off into the distance while saxophones play in the background.”

My mom chuckled. “They have their own musical accompaniment. How lovely for them.”