Damien Baptiste was stocky and muscular with sun-kissed hair and twinkling, hazel eyes. "Ah, the dean, I've heard so many good things about you. I love that you have managed to pen an honor code that your students both despise and respect. That is quite an honorable accomplishment."
"Thank you, I think," my father chuckled. He led the way into the living room.
"Your home is beautiful, such order, such lovely straight lines," Damien said.
"That's me," my father admitted. "I admire the artist's life, the passion and chaos of creativity, but I'm strictly by the books, myself."
"Damien's a sculptor," Professor Paulson said to me. "Damien, this is Patrick's daughter, Clarity."
"Enchanted," he said with a flourish.
"Well, hello," Lexi crooned from the doorway.
I swatted my friend, then dragged her into the living room. Behind her came her running back boyfriend. Carl was the opposite of the small, pert, and boisterous Lexi. He was beefy, tall, white blond, and said next to nothing.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Lexi and Carl," I said.
"Of course, welcome, Lexi, you know a holiday wouldn't be the same without you," my father hugged her. "And, Carl, congratulations on helping your team to victory this year. Carl's our star running back."
I introduced Professor Paulson and her date, Damien. Lexi frowned. "I really wish you had let us set you up with a date, Clarity. There are plenty of guys that wouldn't have been scared off by dinner with the dean."
"Adam still asks about you," Carl said.
"Sorry, but I'm too busy helping my father tonight to handle a date," I said. Before my father could protest, two more guests arrived.
"Professor Rumsfeld," Lexi grinned. I immediately held out my hand to his wife. "I'm Lexi, I took your husband's course freshman year. I would never have gotten my English credit if he didn't know how to make Shakespeare understandable to normal people."
"Nice to meet you, Lexi. I'm Alice," the professor's wife said.
"Please, can we just be normal people today? Call me Jackson."
"Excellent idea," Polly agreed. "After all, you're not children and conversation will be a hell of a lot more interesting if you don't hold back because of arbitrary titles. Right, Patrick?"
My father couldn't refuse her. "Fine, though I hope, perhaps my daughter will refrain from calling me Patty. She used to do that when she was three and it was flustering."
"Really, Patrick? They haven't even made it in the front door and you're already telling toddler stories about me?" I asked.
My father grinned. "Oh, my dear, you always fit in easier with an older crowd. One of those darling children that would rather talk to teachers than classmates. It's no wonder you're not interested in dating a college boy."
As if on cue, Ford stepped in the front door and my heart flopped into a puddle on the floor. "Sorry I'm late. I was just finishing a phone call with my sister," he said.
He shook my father's hand and jumped right in to meeting everyone. When he finally turned to me he held out his hand and then chuckled. "Hey, I know you from somewhere, don't I?"
I rolled my eyes, "Yes, Professor—"
"Wait," Polly caught me, "we've decided we're all equals today, so you should call him by his first name."
"Nice to see you again, Ford," I said and prayed that no one noticed the blush creeping up my cheeks.
Lexi stared at me for a moment then batted her eyelashes. "Your class is Clarity's favorite," she said.
Instead of hoping the floor would open up and swallow me, I focused on my hostess duties. "Who would like a glass of wine before dinner?"
Everyone except Carl said yes, and I dashed into the kitchen. The turkey cooled on a large cutting board and I tried to assure myself that everything was going to be perfect. Except all my hopes for a cure were dashed—as soon as Ford's deep blue eyes swept over me, I felt as if I'd already drank half a bottle of wine. My thoughts and daydreams reeled and there was no way my best friend was not going to notice.
Luckily, by the time I returned to the living room, the Thanksgiving holiday had put everyone at ease. Damien was choosing records to play, assisted by Lexi's assertive expressions. My father was enraptured by Polly's descriptions of her latest painting and Jackson was getting a play-by-play from Carl of the last football game he missed.
"Need any help in the kitchen?" Ford asked.