Page 38 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Nova
“Now do you get why I suggested two?”
“Because you can’t keep your hands off my clam strips?” Nova replied with a cheeky grin.
With each day he grew more playful and relaxed, a far cry from the frazzled man who’d hurled his phone at the water and grumbled about not flinging it far enough when it landed in the sand.
“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that,” I replied as I stepped back into the kitchen to snag the strips and Ezekiel’s famous sauce.
I don’t care what anyone said about tartar or cocktail sauce; they could keep them both as far away from my seafood as possible. Ezekiel’s rich, creamy, slightly spicy dipping blend was the only thing I ever wanted to plunge my tasty clam strips into. If he ever did get around to bottling things, I hoped that sauce, along with his spicy pineapple butter, would be at the top of the list.
“I cannot believe that this is my life now,” Nova said as he slid into the seat across from me.
Food and drinks were set up on the table, along with a small container of sugared donuts we’d picked up earlier, when we’d run out for food and supplies.
“Get used to living the life of a beach bum businessman,” I said. “You’ll know you’ve truly settled in when you’re hopping out of bed as the sun is coming up, just so you can catch a few waves before work.”
“Or watch you catch them,” he replied. “I could see myself indulging in a whole new ritual once I start back to work.”
“Oh yeah, and what will that be?”
“I think I’ll call it Man Candy Monday,” he replied. “It will solely consist of me with my ass parked in the sand, staring out at you shredding on a wave, while I drool over how hot you are.”
“Oh, I’m hot, am I?”
“Uh-huh. One seriously smokin’ hot surfer Daddy.”
“I hope you’re still saying that when the blond gives way to gray and you’re catching more waves than I am.”
“I know I will,” he replied. “Only I might have to vary things up a little and start calling you my seriously sizzling silver fox surfer Daddy.”
“I can roll with that,” I replied as he started shuffling the cards.
“Oh my god, I just remembered that I never got the chance to tell you about the text I received earlier,” he said, the cards fluttering as they mixed.
Since moving here, his phone had been notoriously silent save for the occasional texts from family and friends. That deluge he’d been flooded with by his former employer was a thing of the past, though he did still choose to keep it in the box in the kitchen most of the time we were at home.
“Shoot, was it a good text or a ‘why did I check my phone’ one?” I asked.
“It was an ‘oh my fucking god, that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all week one,’” he replied as he set them in the middle of the table for me to cut.
“This is going to be a doozy, isn’t it?”
“Yup. It was from a former co-worker, telling me that Pete completely torpedoed the department with the presentation he gave and wound up offending the client and upsetting our CEO so badly that not only was he fired, but Jason got the boot along with him for allowing him to go in there and lead the presentation in the first place. He also asked around to see what the odds were of getting me to return to the company and fill Jason’s old position.”
“Yeah? What did your co-worker say about that?”
“He respectfully told him that there was no chance of that, since I’d moved halfway around the world, so he gave the position to my ex-coworker, who will be a great fit in the slot,” he replied. “I just found it hilarious that Pete’s ineptitude finallybit Jason on the ass after he tried to make Pete everyone else’s problem.”
“I love that for you,” I said. “I’m glad someone reached out to let you know what happened. It’s only fair that you got to hear about Jason getting his comeuppance after all the aggravation he put you through.”
“It was nice to see karma kick it into high gear with those two,” he replied as he dealt. “I worked with a lot of awesome people who didn’t deserve to have someone making the whole department look bad because he wasn’t qualified for the position he was in.”
Lifting my glass, I held it up and offered a toast. “To Pete, for fucking up so badly that he helped someone get a promotion.”
“To Pete,” he replied as he clanked his glass against mine.
The cards were in his favor tonight, blessing him with an impressive streak that left me with an inflated hand and color blocks of cards that didn’t match the shade we were currently playing. Despite going on a good run myself, he still went out before I could catch up, his last card a draw four that left me grateful we weren’t playing for points, or cookies as we’d done the other night. I’d have had to lick the crumbs off him just to get a taste with how badly he’d destroyed me that round.
Since he’d arrived, even during the unpacking, we’d carved out space each day for something fun and silly, and with each one, I was convinced he’d pegged himself correctly when he said he was a middle. I was seeing more of that side peek out, especially when we played games or broke out the arts and crafts.