by Kristy Tate
Drake wondered what he was supposed to do about it.
“Drake!”
His spine stiffened. As if this party couldn’t get any worse. Drake slowly turned. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
“Where else do you think I’d be on my son’s birthday?”
In the boardroom, on a conference call, closeted with accountants and attorneys…
Malcolm Islington walked down the hall, a beer glass in his hand and a scowl on his face. Tall, every inch a successful business man, Drake had rarely seen his dad at a loss or at a disadvantage, and yet here he was in the house of man whose wealth superseded his many times over, plus Don Marx had Mia on his arm. No wonder his dad looked furious. And maybe a little insecure.
“I brought you something,” his dad said, holding out a small gift.
“Huh. Thanks, Dad.” Drake took the small package while his dad frowned first at him then at Andrea.
“We need to talk,” Andrea said to him through clenched teeth.
Drake held up his hand, stopping her. “You have no reason to be angry with me.”
“Maggie is a good person.” Andrea wrestled away from Trevor and then looked back at him, as if suddenly realizing that maybe she’d preferred where she’d been. She straightened her dress. “You’re not even interested in her.”
Melinda’s eyebrows shot up, and she inched back to Drake.
“Maggie? As in Magdalena?” his father asked.
Drake flicked his attention to his dad. “It’s not what you think.”
His dad folded his arms across his chest. “How much did that divorce cost you?”
“Everything, Dad. You know that.”
“And now she’s back?”
Drake groaned, acutely aware that every eye on the room was trained on him and waiting for his answer. A crowd had gathered to watch. Drake took a deep breath and tried to rally his thoughts. After a moment he turned to his dad. “Go and find Mom.” He wanted his dad to take his mom away from Don Marx. “Take Mom home and I’ll call and explain later.”
“There can be no rational explanation for this,” his dad huffed.
“Actually, Mom can explain it to you.”
“Oh, so your mom is the person to ask why you’re a two-timing hound?” Andrea growled.
“Yes, go ask my mom.” Drake braced himself, refusing to be intimidated by tiny Andrea and her new demonic voice. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old hound who still hides behind his mom. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my wife.”
Melinda stopped his grand exit. “What exactly does she mean ‘you’re not even interested in her’?”
He nodded at Andrea. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Andrea pointed her finger at him. “He is a hound-dog!”
His dad snorted. “Nice party, son.”
Drake rounded on him. “The real party, Dad, is going on out there with Mr. Marx and my mom. Don’t criticize my party while I’m watching your forty-year marriage crash and burn.”
His dad lifted his eyebrows in surprise, whether at his words or his tone, Drake didn’t know. “So you’re a marriage expert?”
“Yeah, my marriage failed. It lasted for a total of three weeks. As an emotional investment, I didn’t have too much to lose. I made a mistake. I recognized it and got out as soon as I could. Your mistake right now is that you’re in here with me and these—” Drake lifted his hand to the others in the room. Andrea glared at him, Melinda watched him through slitted eyes, and Trevor smirked. His fists itched to wipe away the smirk, but he took a deep breath and turned back to his dad. “These fine people instead of your wife. So, please excuse me, because I do not wish to follow your example.”
Chapter 37
Kissing not only feels oh-so-good, but it also has health benefits. It triggers a whole spectrum of physiological processes that boost your immunity, and it tingles the body that you work so hard to keep attractive.
From Losing Penny and Pounds
Penny looked up from the computer screen just in time to see Drake slam through the door. While Wolfgang scrambled to his feet, Drake grabbed Penny and pulled her off the sofa and into his arms. He kissed her hard.
Penny’s brain tried to click into gear, and after a few moments of shock, desire kicked in and she kissed him back. He scooped her up, sat down, settled her on his lap, and kissed her some more.
“Good surprise?” Penny asked as Drake trailed his lips along her neck.
“No,” he murmured without lifting his head. “The worst.”
“Oh.” Penny’s breath escaped her. She wanted him to elaborate, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. His lips sought hers.
“What happened?” she asked as Drake laid her down on the sofa. “The food was good though, right?”
He leaned over her and shook his head. “Spilled shrimp.”
“Spilled shrimp or chilled shrimp?”
Drake braced himself on his extended arm and stared into Penny’s face. “I don’t care about the shrimp. I care about you and—”
Penny waited, but after a moment she craned her neck to see what had stolen Drake’s attention.
He pulled away from her, his gaze locked on the computer screen. A green sea serpent rose from a dark sea, and lightning cracked a purple sky. Big letters spelled out Serpents and Sunstones on the top of the screen, and at the bottom of the screen, in much smaller letters, his name. “What’s this?” Drake asked in a strangled voice.
“Oh, happy birthday,” Penny sat up as Drake pushed away. “I, um, meant it for a surprise.” She watched his face for a clue, but not finding one she continued, “I made a cover for your story.”
“There’s a monster on it.” Drake sat up straight and pulled the computer onto his lap.
“I know! Isn’t it great? You’d be surprised how many sea monsters pictures there are online!”
“But there are no monsters in my story.”
Penny studied him, wishing she could read him. This wasn’t the reaction she had anticipated. “I put some in.”
“You put some in?”
“And few distressed damsels.”
“Distressed damsels?”
Penny nodded. “Ingrid and Helga.”
“Ingrid and Helga?”
“And some goats.”
“Goats.”
“For comic relief.”
Drake stood, pushed his hand through his hair, and frowned at the screen. The music from the party next door floated through the window. Penny reached out to him, wanting him to return to the sofa, wanting to feel him beside her.
“It’s not a comedy, Penny.”
“Well, not with all the sea serpents and mayhem—that’s why it needed some comic relief. You know, like the funny animal characters in all the Disney movies.”
“It doesn’t want to be a Disney movie.”
“Well, I know that!” Penny leaned back, watching him, a twitch beginning in her eyelid. “You should at least read it before you decide.”
Drake faced her and folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t believe you would rewrite my story.”
“I didn’t rewrite it.” She fished around on the sofa, found his book wedged between the cushions, and showed it to him. “See, I didn’t change your book. I just typed it up, and as I did I embellished it. A little.”
“With goats, sea monsters, and distressed damsels.”
Penny nodded. “Ingrid and Helga.” When Drake remained silent, Penny added, “Ingrid is in love with Hans, but so is Helga. And since Helga is a witch that controls the sea serpents, Ingrid is pretty much dead meat.”
“Dead meat?” Drake’s voice went up in volume. “I don’t write about dead meat.”
“Of course you don’t, I do.” She laughed at her own joke. “Get it? Dead meat—cook books.”
“Stick to cook books, Penny.” Drake’s voice had a hard edge.
Penny stood up, feeling insulted. “You should at least read it.”
He turned away from
her and faced the dark window.
“I went to a lot of trouble having that made,” she said to his back.
“Having it made?” He wouldn’t look at her.
“My publisher—”
He wheeled toward her. “Your publisher?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, my publisher agreed to make a hundred copies.”
“I’m being published by a cookbook publisher?”
Penny put her hand on her chest. “What’s wrong with that? Gooding and Reads publish my books.”
He frowned at her and she did her best to frown back. “They’re doing me a favor.”
After Drake slammed out the door, Penny decided that must have been the wrong thing to say.
***
The next morning Penny picked up her pace when a shadow cross the back porch. Because of her hurt foot she hadn’t been running for a more than a week, and it felt good to lengthen her stride for a last push toward home. Reason told her that Drake wouldn’t hang out on the front porch—he had his own key—but since she couldn’t think of another shadow she’d rather see, she sprinted across the lawn.
Andrea sat in the porch swing, gently rocking. Disappointed, Penny slowed down and walked across the grass, aware of the heavy dew soaking through her sneakers and socks. Wolfgang trotted beside her.
“Hey,” Andrea called without getting up.
“How are you?” Penny took a couple of long deep breaths before dropping onto the top step of the porch. Wolfgang found a sunny patch near Andrea and the swing. “How did it go last night?”
“Aside from dropping a few shrimp, it was pretty entertaining to watch Drake square off with his dad while his mom flirted up Don Marx.”
“Oh dear,” Penny said, lifting her T-shirt to wipe away the sweat beading on her forehead. “Not his happiest birthday then.”
Andrea frowned at Penny. “Why didn’t you tell me you were/are married to Drake?”
Penny stood up and brushed off her shorts. “I didn’t even know you knew Drake!” She refused to look Andrea in the eye.
“I’ve known Drake for years. He dated my best friend.”
“You’re friends with Blair? Of course you are. She must have worked for you in the café. I should have put that together.”
“And I would have thought you and I were friends,” Andrea said, her words slowing. “But then I realized I don’t know you at all.”
“I would consider us friends,” Penny said, recognizing where the conversation was heading and feeling powerless to steer it in any other direction.
“Foodwise the party was great.”
“Oh good.” Penny sighed in relief. Andrea had taken the conversation in a whole new direction on her own, and Penny could talk food for hours. She glanced at her wrist, where her watch usually stayed, but even without the watch, she knew what time it was. “Have you had breakfast? I try to eat within twenty minutes of my workout.”
Andrea rolled her eyes but still followed Penny into the kitchen.
“Did the flan turn out nicely?” Penny asked. “Flan can be so temperamental.” She pulled out a box of oatmeal.
Andrea nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. “Several people asked for the recipes, which I couldn’t give them, but Mia suggested they look on a website called Losing Penny and Pounds.” Andrea twisted so that she could face Penny. “So I did that…and did you know that every single recipe used at that party came from that website?”
Heat traveled up Penny’s neck, flooded her cheeks, and tinged her ears. Turning away from Andrea, she buried her head into the refrigerator,
“Penny Lee is an amazing cook and person.”
After washing the blueberries, Penny sliced some almonds. Thwack, thwack. She knew she had to say something, but she let the sound of chopping fill the silence. When Andrea still hadn’t said anything and the almonds had been completely decimated, Penny said, “She’s not that amazing.”
“Absolutely amazing—how can she possibly be in Kiev and right here, right now?” Andrea leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
“Who else knows?” Penny asked, knife poised midair.
“I’m not sure anyone, although Mia wasn’t too subtle…or sober.”
“She didn’t come home last night,” Penny said slowly. “And neither did Drake, although I’m pretty sure they weren’t together.”
Andrea’s laugh sounded harsh. “Do you think she went home with her husband or to bed with Don Marx?”
“Don’t laugh,” Penny said, stirring the now almond powder and blueberries into her bubbling pot of oatmeal. “She’s sixty something years old and she has two millionaires ready to fight for her.”
She and Andrea fell into an uncomfortable silence while Penny stirred her cereal. Finally Penny asked, “Are you going to tell?”
Andrea shook her head. “But I want to know why you’re hiding out here with Drake. How did you even meet?”
“My aunt the matchmaker,” Penny said and then explained the mixed up phone numbers and rental agreement.
“Your aunt set this up?”
Penny nodded. “Her hopes for my love life are much higher than mine.”
“Well, her plan worked.”
Penny looked out at the boats floating in the Sound and felt sad. “Not really. I have to go home in a few weeks and relationships take time. Besides, Drake’s mad at me.”
“Drake’s mad at you?”
“Why is that so surprising? It’s not as if I’m perfect.”
“Practically,” Andrea said. “I’ve known Drake for a really long time and getting mad is not his thing.”
“Everyone gets mad.”
“But some people can hide it really well, and Drake is a master magician at hiding his emotions.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
Andrea nodded. “He keeps a really tight lid on his temper. I’ve known Drake for years, and I’ve never seen him blow.”
“Huh. Well, he stormed out of the house and slammed the door last night.”
Andrea shook her head. “You must have done something pretty awful, because last year Blair burned a bunch of his things including a notebook of his poems and he didn’t even flinch. Maybe he flinched a little, but his reaction was remarkably underwhelming.”
Penny felt sick. “He must have really loved her.”
“I’m sure he did—much more than he realized—but that’s beside the point.”
“You’re obviously the Drake expert, not me.”
“I’m just saying that you were able to get under his skin in a way no one else ever has.”
Penny thought about this.
“So, how did you do it?” Andrea faced her and cocked her head.
“The silly thing is I thought I was doing something nice! Here, I’ll show you.” Penny wiped off her hands on her apron and sat down in front of the laptop on the kitchen table. After pulling up the mock-up for Drake’s book, she turned it to show Andrea. “I sort of rewrote his book.”
“Drake wrote a book about sea monsters?”
Penny shook her head. “No. Drake wrote about Vikings. I added a few sea serpents and damsels.”
Andrea blew out a whistle.
“He didn’t like it.”
“And you thought he would?”
“It’s a great story now!”
“Now? It wasn’t great before?”
“He wasn’t even going to do anything with it.”
“And you are?”
“Well, I can’t really, can I?”
Andrea considered this with a slow smile growing on her lips. “Maybe you can.”
Chapter 38
His path had met and married with Ingrid’s. They were intertwined, and must always be so. “Slay me if you wish,” Hans told the serpent. “Even death cannot separate me from her love.”
From Hans and the Sunstone
Drake leaned back in his chair, satisfied. He smiled as he attached the Word document and pressed send.
His computer made the sweet, swooshing sound of the completed Geared! being whisked away into cyberspace. Any second now Melinda would open it and realize her reign of terror had ended.
His dad grumped by, coffee mug extended, on his way to the kitchen. He stopped in front of Drake’s open door. “What are you doing here?”
His dad looked like Wolfgang when he needed a bath—hairy and smelly. Drake tried to remember a time when his dad had looked worse. “I was typing, but now I’m celebrating.”
His dad ran his gaze over Drake. “You don’t look celebratory.”
Drake laughed. “Same to you, Dad.”
His dad shuffled his slippers into the room and leaned against the dresser that still held Drake’s track trophies. Drake hadn’t been much of an athlete, but because of his dad’s insistence, he had run on the track team. His long, lean frame and natural competitive spirit had made him fast. His dad had pushed for basketball, but Drake’s desire to please his parents stopped at punches in the nose and gut.
“Why are you here?” his dad asked again. “I haven’t seen you sitting at that desk in almost twenty years.”
Drake laughed. “I guess it was time I did.”
His dad looked at him through half shut eyes, studying him.
“Am I in your way?” Drake asked.
“You’re a little too happy. From what I saw last night your female problems aren’t any less complicated than mine—and you’re smiling. Something’s not right.”
His dad had an insight. Remarkable. And he just admitted to having a problem—female problems. He snorted. “Dad, have you grown a uterus?”
“It’s not funny,” his dad said with twitching lips. “No laughing allowed before breakfast.” He turned away, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot. “If you’re going to stay there will be absolutely no a.m. laughing, and even smiling must be strictly controlled.”
Drake scowled at the back of his dad’s head, puzzled. He couldn’t believe they just had a conversation that didn’t include the words, “Why don’t you grow up and come to work for Islington and Islington?” Drake scratched his head and turned off his computer. He had just walked through a door that he had never meant to open.