Chapter 17 – A Normal Day and New People
The front door creaked open and Dante stepped aside, letting the two young women enter first. Sera, who had been arranging fresh flowers on the living-room table, froze mid-motion. Her eyes widened as she watched her son stroll in with two strikingly pretty girls trailing right behind him like ducklings.
"Son," she said, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow, "you really can't stay alone for five minutes, can you?"
Dante flashed that trademark playful grin that always managed to melt any impending lecture. "What can I say, Mom? I'm just a very friendly guy. I make friends ridiculously easily."
Before Sera could fire off a sarcastic comeback, Roxane, Diane, Glória, and the rest of the wives poured in from the back porch, suntanned and still laughing about something that had happened on the lake. They stopped dead when they spotted the newcomers.
Roxane tilted her head. "And who are these two lovely ladies?"
Dante didn't miss a beat. "Rob's daughters, Jasmine and Amber. They were on their way to meet him, but their car decided to die halfway here. Since Rob and the others are still out on the island...", I invited them to wait with us. Figured it was the Nice thing to do."
Glória practically squealed, clasping her hands together. "So these are my sweetheart's girls! Oh my goodness, you're both absolutely gorgeous!" She immediately swept Briget into a hug as if they'd known each other for years.
While Glória bombarded the sisters with questions, Dante turned back to Jasmine and Amber, lowering his voice to that warm, teasing tone he knew worked too well. "So… still in the mood for those pancakes I promised?"
Jasmine's hand shot out and latched onto his right arm like it was a lifeline. "I am starving. I would literally never say no to pancakes. Ever."
Not one to be outdone, Amber grabbed his left arm with equal determination. "Same. I'm about to faint from hunger."
Jasmine shot her sister a sideways smirk. "You sure you should stuff yourself? Maybe take a little walk afterward… burn some calories?"
Amber's smile turned wicked. "We're literally the exact same weight, Jas. If I need a walk, so do you."
Touché. Jasmine shut up fast—calling her sister fat would be career suicide when the mirror never lied to either of them.
Dante couldn't help but chuckle at the sibling sniping. Gently, he disentangled himself, placed a hand on top of each of their heads, and ruffled their hair like they were a pair of overexcited puppies. "Girls, girls… there is absolutely nothing wrong with loving food. In fact, it's one of life's greatest pleasures. I'm making pancakes. So tell me—what flavor?"
He kept lightly stroking their hair while he waited, and Jasmine practically melted on the spot. "S-strawberry… please," she managed, cheeks pink.
Dante turned to Amber, eyes twinkling. "And you, little kitten?"
"Chocolate," Amber answered without hesitation, batting her lashes for good measure.
Dante spun toward the cluster of wives who were now pretending (very badly) not to watch the entire exchange. "And what about the beautiful donzelas in the room? Any takers?"
Roxane's cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If it's not too much trouble… something with fruit would be lovely."
The others nodded eagerly, suddenly all shy and giggly. Sera watched the scene unfold and pinched the bridge of her nose.
This, she thought, is exactly why I never host book club at home.
Sera muttered, "Charlie, you guys better row back fast, or the local divorce rate is going to spike before sunset."
In the kitchen, Dante tied on an apron (black, with a little embroidered cartoon cat on the pocket, and got to work. The sizzle of butter hitting the pan filled the air, along with the sweet smell of batter.
While he poured perfect circles onto the griddle, his mind wandered to Margaret. Was she eating properly? Or surviving on take-out containers and cold coffee again? He had nagged her a hundred times to take care of herself, but her answer was always the same: "If I want editor-in-chief, I can't waste hours cooking, Dante."
He sighed softly, flipping a pancake with a practiced flick of the wrist. He could buy the entire publishing house tomorrow and make her queen of it by Monday. But Margaret's pride was forged from titanium. She'd sooner die than let him "fix" her career for her. Stubborn, infuriating, adorable woman.
Behind him, Amber leaned against the counter, chin in her hands, watching him cook like he was filming a Netflix special. "Kind, gorgeous, and he cooks," she whispered. Then, louder, to her sister: "Jas, be honest—why not let me have him? You already have a boyfriend."
Jasmine's eyes narrowed. "You're seriously asking me to give up the first guy my age I've actually liked for real, just so I can go back to those same old boring geezers? Yeah, you're a real great sister."
Dante pretended not to hear the bickering and slid the first stack of fruit pancakes onto a plate. He carried it to Roxane with a little bow. "A beautiful breakfast for an even more beautiful lady."
Roxane's laugh was soft and flustered. "You're too sweet. And I'm ancient compared to you."
"Age is just a number, madam. Beauty doesn't come with an expiration date." He winked and moved on before she could turn any redder.
One by one he served Diane, Glória, and the rest, then finally presented Jasmine and Amber with their special orders—strawberry for Jasmine, chocolate for Amber, both topped with whipped cream and a single fresh berry on top like a crown.
Sera watched the whole performance from the doorway, arms crossed. Her son, the walking heart-attack machine. Roxane's eyes had gone full predator. How was any husband supposed to compete with that?
On the lake, the men were finally rowing back, sun-kissed, half-drunk, and blissfully unaware of the chaos waiting ashore.
Lenny rubbed his temples. "Sheriff, I swear I've got the mother of all headaches coming on. You feel that in the air?"
Charlie snorted. "That's called middle age after six beers, my friend. You're not twenty-five anymore. None of us are—except Marcus, who apparently runs on hops and bad decisions."
When they dragged the boat onto the grass, the yard was oddly quiet. Just kids running around. Lenny spotted Sylvia and waved her over.
"Baby girl, where's your mom?"
Becky proudly held up a perfectly cat-shaped pancake. "Kitchen! Big brother Dante is making pancakes for everybody! Look, Daddy, mine has whiskers!"
Erik's stomach growled loud enough to scare birds. "Pancakes? Say less."
They filed into the house—and stopped dead.
There, in the middle of the kitchen, stood Dante at the stove. Jasmine and Amber had taken up positions on either side of him, playfully feeding him forkfuls of their own pancakes while he cooked, laughing between bites, cheeks smeared with a bit of chocolate and strawberry.
Dante spotted the new arrivals and waved with the spatula. "Welcome back, gentlemen! Plenty left—who wants what?"
Jasmine and Amber whipped around at the same moment. "Dad!"
Rob blinked, confused. "What the hell are you two doing here?"
Jasmine launched into the explanation. "Car broke down, total nightmare, but we got rescued by this absolute knight—" She cut off when she noticed Amber sneaking another bite into Dante's mouth, giggling, "Open up—say ah!"
Jasmine immediately shoved her own fork forward. Game on.
Lenny, Kurt, Erik, and Marcus all turned to Sheriff Charlie with the same pained expression.
Charlie just shrugged. ""Well, everybody, looks like my boy just made some brand-new friends; a happy occasion, right?" Charlie says with a proud grin.."
He glanced at the rapidly disappearing stack. "If I were you, I'd order now before it's gone and you're stuck eating whatever Rob and his girlfriend try to invent next."
That was enough. The four men practically trampled each other racing to put in their requests.
Charlie clapped a hand on Rob's shoulder. "See, the good thing is: when your daughters finally give you grandkids, you won't have to compete with them for the elf costume at Christmas. After all, with my son's height and your daughters, those grandkids are gonna have plenty of leg—no risk of anyone fighting you for the short-guy elf suit.""
Rob glared. "Go straight to hell, Charlie." He rolled up his sleeves and marched forward to pry his daughters off the human magnet in the apron.