On the drive to dinner, I managed to pull my mind out of the gutter enough to be out in public without risking arrest. As long as I didn’t let my thoughts circle back to the errand we just completed.

That part took some self-control.

I ordered for both of us and handed the server the menus. We’d gotten a whack load of appetizers instead of meals—chicken wings, spinach-artichoke dip, pulled pork sliders, the works. Bailey was the opposite of picky, which complemented my less adventurous palate nicely. A.k.a., she let me pick all the food. She was the best.

“I meant to ask,” I said. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“Still have to decide with Derek and my parents.” Bailey pursed her lips. Her black sweater slid off her shoulder a little, revealing a glimpse of black bra strap underneath. I had to consciously clamp down on the thought spiral as she adjusted her neckline. “But I’ll probably wait until Christmas. It’s too expensive to fly home for both holidays.”

“My mom’s place is only an hour away. If you don’t leave, I’m dragging you home with me. Just FYI.”

“Really?” Her face brightened. “You’d want me to come?”

“Of course. I’d never let you spend a holiday alone.” Was that even a question? “Plus, then you can meet my dysfunctional family.”

Kidding not kidding on the dysfunctional part.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

I grimaced. “You might want to temper those expectations. My mom’s fine, and my younger sister, Seraphina, is cool. But in the interest of full disclosure, my stepdad, Rick, is kind of a douche. Neither my sister nor I get along with him.”

Rick didn’t respect professional sports as a valid career path and made no attempt to hide it. I guess it wasn’t fancy enough for his snotty CPA ass. Too bad I would rather fucking die than stare at spreadsheets behind a desk all day.

Similarly, Rick thought Seraphina was a bit of an airhead and treated her accordingly, which pushed Sera’s buttons, as well as mine.

Then there was my mom, who ran around like a chicken with her head cut off, trying to referee between all three parties. She was too soft-spoken to have much impact in that regard. Her quiet tsks and pleas to “be nice” did little.

Though having Bailey there as a buffer might be a good thing. Rick was probably less inclined to make his snide, passive-aggressive comments in the presence of outside company.

“Why don’t you two get along?” Bailey took a sip of her ice water, studying my face.

Too many reasons to list.

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time,” she said, raising her blond eyebrows. “If you want to tell me.”