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Ruin .(48)

By:Rachel Van Dyken


    I held out my hand to Kiersten. “Ready to meet my dad?”

    “Holy crap.” She wiped her hands on her jeans before latching on to me. “I feel like I’m about to meet the president or something.”

    I threw my head back and laughed. “Trust me, it’s ‘or something’. He’s not that intimidating. Promise.” I could tell she didn’t believe me. Her eyes kept getting wider and wider as we walked farther into the house. The foyer had a bridge-like walkway that went directly toward the main room. A huge bay window let in tons of light from the front, we took a right and went to the study.

    “Dad?” I called.

    “In here.”

    I kissed Kiersten’s temple as I clenched her hand and led her into the large study. It was decorated in an Old World style, complete with mahogany-wooded walls and matching bookcases.

    Dad was sitting behind his large desk, sipping brandy.

    “A little early to hit the bottle, eh dad?” I joked.

    His eyes narrowed, and then he laughed. “Yes, well, I just fired Alfred, so I imagine I’m allowed to drink.”

    “What?” Alfred had been one of my dad’s closest advisors for years. “What for?”

    “Embezzlement.”

    I cleared my throat and nodded toward Kiersten.

    Dad waved me off. “Surely it’s hit CNN by now.” He tapped his desk as a flat screen descended from the West Wall. Sure enough, as soon as the TV came on, there was news about the scandal.

    “So.” Dad turned off the TV. “Who is this lovely creature?”

    “Kiersten.” She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

    “Sir?” My dad’s brows furrowed. “Do I look eighty?”

    “Er, no?” She gave him a shaky smile.

    “Randy.” His eyes twinkled. “You can call me Randy, just don’t call me Dad. It may cause a heart attack. I can’t imagine this one settling down yet.” He pointed at me and shuddered. “Poor boy can barely do his laundry and tie his shoes.”

    “Hilarious.” I rolled my eyes.

    “You can cook, can’t you?” Randy crossed his arms. “I mean, that’s why you brought her, right, son? To cook Thanksgiving dinner?”

    I knew he was kidding.

    Kiersten, however, didn’t.

    Wide-eyed and pale, she stared at him as her mouth dropped open and then closed again. She looked at me with a hint of panic in her eyes.

    I kept a straight face as did Dad.

    “I, um…” Kiersten released my hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, a move I’d come to recognize as a nervous tick. She was freaking out. “I could totally put something together. I can’t promise it’ll taste like what you’re used to, but I can try.”

    Damn, she was a sweetheart.

    “Where’d you say you got her?” Dad said, completely ignoring her answer.

    “College.”

    “She’s smart.”

    “I know.” I put my arm around her.

    “And sweet,” Dad pointed out, walking around his desk. “And dare I say… beautiful.”

    “All things I’m very aware of. It’s why I stole her away.”

    “Smart man.” Dad chuckled and winked at Kiersten. “Dear girl, you don’t have to cook, I was joking. It’s all I have for entertainment these days with Wes gone all the time and his bro—”

    Dad’s face went pale. “His brother is no longer with us, as I’m sure you already knew. So I do get lonely. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

    “No problem.” She smiled warmly and patted his forearm. His eyebrow lifted as he offered his arm.

    She took it, beaming up at him as if he was the damn sun.

    “Now…” Dad cleared his throat, making a nice recovery. “Why don’t we get you settled in your room, and we’ll let Wes get us something cold to drink. You do know you’re welcome to stay the entire break. We love visitors, and anything you need, I’ll be sure to have Melda—” He stopped talking to Kiersten and yelled, “Melda!”