I snap back to reality, mortified and scrambling for a recovery. “Uh, um— I mean! I mean, breakfast!” I blurt. “I want to put my mouth on your French Toast! It looks so good. I mean, it tasted so good last time.”

Syd and Ari burst into full-blown laughter. Ms. Tina is laughing so hard she’s bent over while Gary just shakes his head.

“Ms. Kind, you’re so weird!” Syd says, thankfully amused by my silliness rather than embarrassing raunchiness.

Vic just smirks, devastatingly smirks. He casually leans against the doorway, tattoos flexing, vein popping, abs still ab-ing, and then, with all the cocky, morning-voiced arrogance in the world, he murmurs, “You’re welcome to have a taste anytime, Ms. Kind.”

I choke. Ms. Tina wheezes. Gary walks out of the room.

And Syd, oblivious and adorable, claps her hands together. “Yay! French toast for breakfast!”

I clear my throat and immediately change the subject. “What I actually meant to say was what the heck are you wearing or not wearing rather?”

Good job, Kerry! Way to turn it around on him. However, I realize he’s looking at me like I should be the one in the hot seat. Then, I make the grave mistake of looking myself over from top to bottom.

Vic threw off my entire morning presentation. I completely forgot I’m not in my pajamas. Instead, I’m standing in a full-body black spandex wetsuit, complete with a giant pink donut floatie around my waist and freaking flipper shoes.

“...Well, this is awkward,” I mumble.

The room erupts. Everyone’s laughing in confusion.

Vic shakes his head, grinning. “Ms. Kind, what the hell are you wearing?”

I straighten my back, proudly flipping my hair over my shoulder. “Today’s the Annual Beach Bum Parade, duh!” I announce dramatically. “Did y’all forget? I’ve been working here for nearly two months, and I’ve been talking about the parade dang near every day!”

Ari, still recovering from laughter, suddenly gasps. “Oh yeah! I remember!” But then, her excitement dims, and she bites her lip. “But I can’t go today. I really wanna go to soccer. It’s the last week of camp, and I’ve been training hard for academy tryouts, which are only a few weeks away.” She pouts, knowing good and well I can’t get mad at her cuteness.

Then, another betrayal hits me. The little six-year-old traitor Syd raises her hand. “Me too! I have dance practice! Coach says I’m a star, and I want to make a great impression before competition team tryouts.”

I place a dramatic hand over my chest. “My little babies! Leaving me for extracurriculars.” I shake my head. “Is there no loyalty in this house?”

Vic chuckles, but I whip my head to him. “And what exactly are you laughing at? You better not have plans, too.”

His face twists like he’s trying not to laugh harder. “Uh…work?”