Most Likely To Die. Lisa Jackson
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he reminded her in that irritating way of his. That much was true. She’d asked him to move out and he’d complied. Now he shifted on the chair to face her and she noticed the square cut of his jaw, still as strong as it had been when she’d met him nearly twenty years ago.
“Okay, let’s not go there. The blame game doesn’t really work.”
“Agreed.”
Damn the man. Was that a twinkle in his gray eyes? Was he finding some humor in this impossible situation?
Ross stretched out of the chair, pushing it back so hard it screeched against the tile. Shoving his hair from his eyes, he stood and she was reminded again that Ross Delmonico was one heart-stopping hunk of a man. It was no wonder she’d fallen head over heels for him all those years ago. She’d been vulnerable, hurting, even bristly after the end of her senior year of high school. She’d moved to Seattle by the end of June, gotten hired at a clothing store, and with the help of student loans and scholarships had started classes at the University of Washington in the fall.
Ross Delmonico, a graduate student, had been her TA in chemistry for the spring term. He’d taken the time to tutor her personally, and as the term had progressed the study sessions had segued into a series of casual dates. They’d explored the city, drinking coffee on the waterfront, shopping at Pike Street Market, poking through old book and antique shops in Pioneer Square, getting caught in the rain at the locks. They’d taken a ferry across the sound at sunset and watched the sun settle behind the jagged Olympic Mountains as they’d slowly fallen in love. Somehow she’d passed chemistry before switching her major to journalism. How ironic that their daughter was failing the same subject that had brought them together.
In her mind’s eye, Kristen caught a glimpse of Ross as a younger man. His hair had been longer, his clothes leaning toward denim shirts over faded T-shirts, beat-up jeans, and two days’ worth of beard darkening that strong jaw. He’d been soft-spoken, thoughtful, and when he smiled, showing off one dimple and strong white teeth that flashed devilishly against his tanned skin, she’d felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. God, she’d fallen hard for him.
He’d filled out a bit in the years since, and the untamed curls at the back of his neck had been clipped into a shorter, cleaner cut. Crow’s-feet fanned from the edges of his deep-set eyes, and if she looked hard enough she could see the first hint of gray daring to show in his thick hair. He looked almost citified in his slacks and white shirt, but in the depth of his eyes and the hint of his smile, there lurked the sexy, intelligent man she’d married.
“What?” he asked, drawing her out of her reverie, his expression faintly amused. Almost as if he knew where her thoughts had gone.
Through a partially open window she heard the sound of a car’s engine, and within seconds the nose of a battered red Dodge came into view.
Ross’s gaze centered on the window. “Looks like the prodigal daughter hath returned.”
“Good. Let me handle this.”
“No way…my turn, remember?”
Kristen really wanted to square off with Lissa. After all, she was the one who had set the rules and the punishment, but maybe it was time for Lissa’s father to step up. “Okay, Super Dad, you’re on.”
Chapter 2
They watched as Lissa leaned across the seat and kissed Zeke with enough open-mouthed fervor to make Kristen’s gut clench. Though rain was falling steadily, the drops weren’t enough of a curtain to shield the passion in the kiss.
“She’s giving him tongue, right here? In front of us in the middle of the day?” Ross sounded incredulous.
“Welcome to my world.”
Lissa slid from the SUV’s interior and headed toward the house. “If they kiss like that out in the open, what do they do when they’re alone?”
“We’ve had ‘the talk.’”
“‘The talk’? You mean about sex?”
“Yes, about sex. You know kids today don’t think oral sex is any big deal.”
“I think it’s a very big deal.” He looked shaken.
Where had he been for the past decade? Kristen wondered. Had he been hiding his head in the sand and believing the parents’ age-old foolish notion of “My daughter would never?” If so, it was about time he woke up.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, but his serious tone indicated he recognized the truth when it was served up to him on a platter.
“Wish I were.”
“Has anyone had ‘the talk’ with Zeke?”
“I didn’t take that one on.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Yeah?”
“You know, scare the shit out of the punk.”
“And risk losing your daughter’s respect?”
He snorted. “That’s already shot to shreds anyway. A little tête-à-tête with Zeke sounds imminent.”
Kristen agreed, but said, “You won’t gain any points.”
“Who cares?”
Exactly. “Then maybe you want to reinforce my position that oral sex at sixteen is not okay.”
“Jesus.”
Lissa’s steps slowed as she finally spotted her father’s car. She sent a guilty look toward the kitchen before her shoulders straightened, her chin jutted forward in rebellion, and she strode into the house, her attitude reeking of battle.
She dropped her backpack near the hooks by the door to the garage. Water dripped from her coat and she smelled of rainwater and something else—cigarette smoke? Or worse?
Mascara-rimmed eyes glared up at her father. Her near-black hair, cut short and tipped in shades of pink and gold, was curling and damp. “What’re you doing here?”
“Waitin’ for you. My night.”
“Your night?” she said, barely holding in a sneer. “Since when?”
“Since I got back into town and your mom and I worked out a deal.”
Kristen was about to speak up. There was no deal, but she caught a warning glance from Ross and held her tongue.
“A deal?” Lissa repeated skeptically as she walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. “About me?”
“Yep.”
“Without my consent?” She snagged a Diet Pepsi. “Shouldn’t I have been consulted?”
“Informed,” he corrected as she closed the fridge with a shoulder. “Which I’m doing right now. Come on, we’re going to dinner, then over to my place.”
“What? Why?” she demanded, clearly blindsided.
“Just to hang.”
“You and me?” She turned big eyes toward her mother as she opened her can of soda. “This is okay with you?”
“It was her idea,” Ross said as he reached for his jacket.
“No way!”
Ross moved toward the door. “Come on, grab your stuff. You must have homework.”
“Wait a minute. I can’t leave. Zeke’s coming back and we’re watching television together tonight.”
“Aren’t you grounded?” he asked.
“I’m not supposed to go anywhere, but he’s coming here,” she explained, as if her thinking were entirely logical. “Besides, the whole grounding thing is lame.”
“Then