Her Foreign Affair by Shea Mcmaster Read Free Book Online

expenses. If LSU wins, Jordan pays his own tab. If they lose, I pay his expense report without complaining.”
    Predictable, but she was getting in on this action. The Gators were favored to win. “Hmm, throw me in for a long weekend in Napa at the B&B of my choice and I’ll take your bet.”
    “You’ll hire a tree service to take out the damn spruce so I don’t have to hear about it anymore?” Dad’s eyes bored into her from the family room to clear across the kitchen. The stupid dead tree she’d been trying to get him to take down for over a year. The one blight on her carefully landscaped backyard.
    Randi blew a hank of bangs out of her eyes. “Fine. If LSU wins, I’ll deal with the tree myself.”
    Dad rolled his eyes, then nodded at her hands. “I’d shake on it, but you’d probably squish that blob of dough into my hand.”
    Randi looked down at the poor mangled globule. The rolls would turn out interesting this year. If it wasn’t the turkey, it would be something else. Were there backups in the extra freezer? Did she have enough potatoes to mash if she didn’t have more rolls? “Pour some Irish Cream in your coffee and consider us shaken.”
    “How you make it in the business world with that attitude, I’ll never know.” Dad shook his head and turned away to pour the coffee for himself and Jordan. “Let’s go find the game, guys, and leave the women to the prep.”
    “Grandpa!” Birdie yelled from the dining room. “I heard that, and you know that doesn’t fly in this house.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I’ll carve the bird. Just make sure the right one is on the platter when it’s time.”
    Birdie moved into the hall and glared at her grandfather, hands on hips. A moment later, the two of them broke into laughter and went their separate ways.
    “Carve the bird?” Court murmured in her ear. Damn, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
    “Turkey, bird, Birdie…” She looked over her shoulder and found him within kissing distance. Certainly smelling distance. And he smelled good. Some expensive cologne she didn’t recognize.
    “Ah. Birdie. A most interesting name. How did you come up with that?”
    With a casual shrug, she said, “Nickname. Because she’s so damn chipper, like a little bird.” Randi put the last of the rolls in the buttered pan, covered them with a damp towel, and set them on top of the fridge to rise. Hopefully, they’d do it properly.
    “Ah, so, what, exactly, is her name?”
    Oh, so not going there. Not if she could help it. That would give the surprise away completely, and she didn’t have a clue on how to approach that bit of news. She felt nervous enough watching Birdie lightly flirting with Drew as she directed him toward the cabinet with the china dishes. Banter seemed to cover most of it. At least they weren’t putting their hands all over each other. Touches were limited to the bumping of shoulders. Heaven forbid Drew attempt to put his arms around Birdie. Randi would have to do something then. Would a pitcher of cold water be too drastic? She’d be seen as certifiable for sure, but would it keep the kids apart? Might be worth it.
    Trying not to give herself away, she firmly turned away from the situation in the dining room and changed the subject on Court. “I hear you’re a widower. When?” She moved to the far side of the kitchen, putting her back to him while she washed her hands and wrung out a sponge.
    “Beatrice died in a car accident about six years ago. Drew and I have been baching it since.”
    “I’m sorry.” Truly, she was. Death of a spouse pretty much spelled difficult.
    “As much as I hate to say it, lest I come across as cold-hearted”—she turned in time to see him shrug as he spoke—“it more or less worked out for the best.”
    In order to wipe down the counter, she had to sidle up to where he loaded bottles of wine into the racks of the cooler one at a time. “Keep a couple bottles of the champagne up front, please.”
    “Have an