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The hostess led us through the dining room to a round table near the center. Dad politely held out a chair for his girlfriend. I turned to do the same for Robyn, but she had already pulled out her own chair and plopped her butt into it. I took the seat immediately to her right, which forced Jack to sit to her left.

"Order whatever you like!" my father said grandly. "Tonight we celebrate new beginnings!"

I picked up my menu and, out of the corner of my eye, watched Robyn. Did she even know how to behave in a fancy restaurant? Not to be judgy, but she and her mother seemed rather common. Would she be intimidated by the white linen napkins and the excessive assortment of silverware?

As if sensing my thoughts, Robyn took her napkin, shook it out carelessly, placed it in her lap, then reached for her crystal water goblet and took a sip before picking up the menu to scan the offerings.

Most women were, in my experience, painfully predictable. Despite all the scrumptious options, they'd choose a salad and pick at it like a rabbit instead of enjoying the fine dining experience.

When the waiter came, Dad's girlfriend ordered the Asian chicken salad with dressing on the side. Dad chose the stuffed turkey breast, and Jack asked for mushroom ravioli. "I'll take the baked lasagna," I said, setting my menu aside.

"Robyn," my father prompted, "what would you like for dinner?"

Her lips curved into a sweet smile. "I'll take the surf and turf platter. I'd like my steak medium rare, extra butter on the side, no potato, no vegetables."

Across the table, I saw her mother wince and my father's eyes widen in surprise. I hid my chuckle behind a cough. The kid had just ordered the most expensive item aside from the fresh Maine lobster twins.

"Darling—" Her mother's voice held clear censure. "Perhaps it would be better if—"

My father stopped her, placing his hand over hers with a tight smile. "It's no problem, my dear. You did tell me your daughter has...peculiar eating habits."

Denise laughed nervously. "You know how girls are," she said, ducking her head, "always chasing the latest fad diet."

"It's not a fad, Mother," Robyn said calmly.

I watched with interest. Nothing seemed unusual about Robyn's order to me. So she didn't like vegetables? I thought it unkind of her mother to make a big deal. Maybe the real issue was Robyn choosing such an expensive item. I could've told her money wasn't an issue—if Dad couldn't afford it, Jack and I could.

Jack had his phone out, pretending all his attention was on the screen—a habit that drove Dad crazy, which was precisely why he did it. Yet I still caught him taking surreptitious glances at the girl seated between us.

I waited for Dad to chastise Jack for his poor table manners, but he was so absorbed in conversation with Denise that he didn't even give his signature look of disapproval. The three of us sat in awkward silence. Since Jack wouldn't make polite chit-chat, the task fell to me.

"So, uh, Robyn...are you in high school then?"

"No."

"Oh, already graduated?"

"No." She ran her finger around the rim of her water glass, making the crystal hum lightly. "I was homeschooled. Finished my course two years ago."

"Are you attending university?"

"I think university education is a waste of money unless you're following a specialized career path."

I blinked in surprise, while on her other side, Jack choked on his water. "Better not let the professor hear you say that," he muttered. "He's a stickler for formal education."

She shrugged. "Why should I care what he thinks?"

Jack's eyes widened momentarily before he retreated back to his phone. I felt a small smile playing at my lips—having Robyn around would definitely make life more interesting.

She stopped playing with her glass and fixed me with those big brown eyes. "What about you, Phoenix? What do you do?"

"Jack and I run a health and nutrition company—JP Wellness. Heard of it?"

"Sure, I've seen your supplements in grocery stores." Her tone was dismissive, though we sold far more than just supplements. I didn't elaborate; it would sound like bragging.

Her voice softened to a smooth, pleasant tone. "So why do two grown men with a successful company still live with their daddy?"

Jack interjected coolly, "Convenience, mostly. It's close to headquarters, and rental housing is scarce. Plus..." He lowered his voice. "Someone has to protect the old man from money-grubbing players."

Her eyes glittered—not with anger as Jack likely intended, but with amusement. An adorable dimple appeared as she smiled at his retort.

I volleyed back, "And why does a smart, ambitious woman like you still follow her mommy?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Convenience mostly," she echoed Jack. "And someone has to pick up the pieces when things fall apart."

I leaned back in my chair. Her sharp wit clashed delightfully with her innocent face. Notably, she didn't defend her mother or deny the implied accusation.

Before we could continue, the waiter arrived with our meals—my lasagna, Jack's ravioli, and Robyn's massive surf-and-turf platter. I smirked; there was no way her tiny frame could finish that. Yet she thanked the waiter politely, her manners impeccable despite her earlier defiance.

She licked her lips in anticipation and picked up the nutcrackers.

I expected her to struggle with the spiny king crab legs, but clearly this wasn't her first rodeo. She cracked the shells with expert precision, using the small fork to extract clumps of meat. Dipping them in melted butter, she made a face of pure pleasure as the succulent meat touched her tongue.

*What kind of faces does she make when she's about to climax?*

The inappropriate thought invaded my mind unbidden. But could anyone blame me? She sat beside me making little appreciative noises, as if experiencing a food-induced orgasm. I forced myself to look away and focus on my lasagna.

While her mother pushed lettuce around her plate halfheartedly, Robyn devoured her medium-rare steak with shocking gusto. My father glanced at her several times, eyebrows raised, but his manners prevented comment.

Finally, Robyn popped the last shrimp into her mouth with a groan and set down her fork—having cleaned every morsel from the plate. She dabbed grease from her lips and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Thank you for dinner, Professor Williams. It was delicious."

"Please, call me Andrew. We're family now." He eyed her spotless plate as the waiter cleared it. "You must have been starving. I hope you saved room for dessert?"

"No, thank you," she declined smoothly. "I don't eat dessert."