With a sigh, he poured himself a cup of coffee and left the kitchen.
Day Two
“Holy shitballs! Did you see that touchdown pass?” Dylan let out a loud whistle.
“That was a thing of beauty,” Aidan agreed.
Neither of them asked the man on the other couch what he’d thought of the pass; Ron McKinley had been ignoring them for the past hour and a half, his face hidden by the Sunday paper. The only indication he was even in the room was the sound of newsprint crinkling every time he flipped the page.
Dylan had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he resented the fact that Claire’s father was making him feel this way in his own home. This was the place where Dylan was supposed to kick back and relax, but these last two days he’d wanted to be anywhere but here.
For Claire’s sake, he was playing nice with her dad, but damn, winning that man over was next to impossible. Dylan doubted there was anything he and Aidan could do to change Ron McKinley’s opinion about the two men his daughter had committed herself to.
Claire, who was curled up in the armchair with an afghan drawn over her legs, rolled her eyes. “I still don’t get why we’re watching old games that you TiVo’d.”
“Because it’s Sunday,” Dylan retorted. “And we watch football on Sundays.”
“But the season’s over.”
“There’s no such thing as an off-season when it comes to football,” he said gravely. “Jeez, honey, and you call yourself a fan.”
A loud snort of amusement cut through the air.
Everyone swiveled their heads in Ron’s direction, but he was innocently reading his newspaper again.
Day Three
“So you’re really going to do this? Start your own business?”
Claire met her father’s serious eyes. “I’m really going to do it.”
The two of them were sitting out on the terrace, the remnants of their dinner littering the large glass table. Aidan had dropped off some takeout for them because he and Dylan were having dinner at Cash and Matt’s place tonight, and the thoughtful gesture had warmed Claire’s heart. Before he’d left, Aidan had dropped a quick kiss on her lips and told her he hadn’t wanted her to spend the evening slaving over a stove when she could be spending time with her father.
She knew her dad had overheard that, and she could have sworn she’d seen him nod in approval before his expression grew shuttered.
“Do you have a business plan yet?”
Her father’s brisk inquiry interrupted her thoughts. “That’s what I’ve been working on for the last couple of months,” she told him. “But I think I’m finally ready to make this happen.”
“Why don’t the two of us go over the business plan tonight?” Her dad’s voice turned gruff. “That is, if you don’t have plans with…uh, your men.”
She hid her surprise. This was the first time he’d even acknowledged there were two men living here, let alone her men.
And this time, when he’d uttered those two words, he’d done it without any scorn.
Day Four
If he didn’t have sex with either Claire or Aidan soon, Dylan was going to f**king explode.
Day Five
“I’m serious, Mom, he’s been so great this week,” Claire said, balancing her phone on her shoulder as she tried to grab a bowl from the top cupboard. “I really think it’s time for the two of you to talk this out.”
Aidan came up behind her and intercepted her straining hand. He planted a quick kiss on her knuckles before reaching up and getting her a bowl.
With a look of gratitude, she headed to the counter and poured herself some cereal, feeling her father’s anxious eyes on her as she continued to talk him up to her mom.
And the bitch of it was? She wasn’t even lying. Her father had been pretty great this week. She couldn’t say he’d completely warmed up to the men she loved, but at least he wasn’t looking at them like he wanted to skin them alive anymore.
Definitely progress.
Day Six
“I’m dying here, man.” Aidan lit up a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air.
Dylan shook his head in disapproval. “What are you doing? You only smoke when you drink.”
“Or when I’m so f**king horny I feel like my balls are going to fall off. I jerked off in the shower three times this morning. Three!” Aidan said in disgust.
“Me too.”
They exchanged a look and grinned.
But both grins faded fast.
“We need to get him out of here,” Dylan said grimly. Then he paused. “Though that’s not to say I dislike him. If I’m being honest, I kinda like the old grump.”
Aidan’s reply was grudging. “Me too.”
“He’s a damn good poker player.” His gaze drifted past the terrace door to the dining room, where Claire’s father was shuffling a deck of cards like a professional card shark. Dylan hadn’t been kidding, though—Claire’s dad really was growing on him.
“That’s because he’s an accountant. I bet he counts the cards.”
“You think?”
“You boys buying back in or what?” Ron McKinley’s smug voice wafted through the open sliding door and onto the terrace.
Dylan sighed. “Let’s go lose some more money.”
“Gee, can’t wait.”
Day Seven