Page 10 of Roll With The Punches
Chapter Three
When Brandon arrived home Monday, he headed straight for the dining room, do not pass go, do not take a shower. He was starving, and whatever Emma and Grace had made to repay Jeff for changing the tire smelled delicious.
It looked like Jeff and Stuart had already grabbed their showers, and Grace was joining them for dinner, as usual.
“Oooh, meatloaf.” After giving Emma and Grace hugs, and Jeff and Stuart quick kisses, he took his usual place at the head of the table.
One subtle way for Jeff and Stuart to have a protocol safe to do in front of Emma, Grace, and any other vanillas who might join them for a meal. Jeff on his right, Stuart on his left.
And, as always, both men waited for his head tip to them before they started eating.
“So did you call your mom back?” Brandon started, wanting this discussion out of the way.
Emma rolled her eyes from the far end of the table. “Not yet. I texted her.”
“That’s progress, I suppose. You have every right to tell her no, if you want to.”
“I want to, believe me. I can’t believe she had the nerve to ask me if I’d be okay with the Goober being there.” She pointed at Jeff. “Can we talk about the hero of the day instead of Mom?”
Jeff blushed a little, but Brandon didn’t miss the pleased smile on his face.
“Thanks for doing that,” Brandon said. “I appreciate it.”
Jeff shrugged. “No big deal. Glad I could take care of it.”
“How much do we owe you for the tire repair?”
He snorted. “Seriously, the patch is like two bucks. I did it myself. They cooked me my favorite dinner—we’re more than even.”
“And he taught me how to change it so next time, I can do it myself,” Emma added.
“That’s good. So what else is new?”
When Grace cleared her throat, Emma’s face went red.
Beet. Red.
Brandon leveled his gaze at Emma. “Em?”
“If you don’t tell him,” Jeff said, “I will.”
“OrIwill,” Grace said.
Brandon laid down his silverware, clasped his hands together, and rested his elbows on the table. “Care to enlighten me, sweetheart?”
“It’s not a big deal, Dad. Seriously. I wish everyone would quit thinking it is.”
“How about you letmebe the judge of that?Rightnow.” That was not a tone he had to use on her very often. Full-on Dom tone, which also conveniently did double-duty as Dad voice, when needed.
He’d never laid a hand on his child. He’d never wanted to, much less needed to. He hadthevoice.
The same one he’d used on Tracey when they were still a couple and he was her Dom.
Another seismic eye roll, plus Emma suddenly found her plate interesting. “It’s nothing. Just a stupid score.”
This was a surprise. Emma was usually a straight-A student, although he’d been careful to never scold her over the rare low grade. He preferred a constructive approach. Besides, she would mentally beat herself up and punish herself for low grades far worse than he would ever think about doing.
“How bad? And in what subject?”
