Driving River

Chapter Twenty-One

River

Kendall is more nervous than me. Anxiety rolls off her in waves, vibrating the air molecules in the car. If I didn't already know she values her father's approval, this solidifies my theory. I'm a little uncomfortable knowing I'll be surrounded by people for the next few hours, but other than that, I'm calm. If Aidan Allard-Reeves thinks I'm not good enough for his little girl, I hope it's something we can overcome.

Kendall grips the wheel, turning onto a dirt road that leads to a yellow farmhouse facing the Delaware River. The home is massive, as is the plot of land it rests on. The sprawling lawn is riddled with blooming plant life, wooden picnic tables, and tasteful party decorations. Shiny cars are parked in what would be the backyard, but has been converted into a gravel lot. More vehicles are lined on the service road. Kendall passes them, stopping the Bugatti in a designated slip beside the wraparound porch.

We get out of our car at the same time another couple is exiting a truck. I recognize the flaming red hair of Brigid, Blake's wife. I met her yesterday in 215 Tech's art department. She opens the rear door, unbuckling a toddler from a car seat. Soon after, Blake rounds the vehicle, holding a small, pink animal under one arm.

"Is that a..." I hesitate, squinting at the creature. "A pig?"

"Piggy Smalls!" Kendall shouts, jogging toward her uncle. She removes the miniature pig from his grasp, pepping the side of its face with kisses.

"Is that a Chiron Super Sport 300?" Blake counters, staring at my car with a flabbergasted expression. He glances at me, brows raised. "Are you sure you need my sponsorship?"

"This is from my father's collection," I explain, patting the deck lid. "I'm just the mechanic."

"And you let Kendall drive it?" he asks, horrified. "I don't even let her near David's tricycle."

Kendall is too busy exchanging the pig for the toddler. She tosses David in the air, and he squeals with delight, rivaling Piggy Smalls' high pitch. Blake preoccupies himself with searching the diaper bag, making sure they have a particular flavor of something called a squeeze pouch. Kendall sets David on the ground, holding his hand to help him walk. The toddler waddles, and we slowly make our way around the house.

Blake asks me a few questions about an older model Maserati he owns, and I'm glad to have answers. Now that I'm seeing him outside the boardroom—in a familial setting, as opposed to an executive one—I'm less starstruck. He's far from mundane, but he is human, and it seems like he has good business morals. I'm excited to partner with him.

One the porch, there is a line of shoes in different sizes and styles. Work boots, sandals, sneakers, and high heels. Winter coats are hung from pegs on the vinyl siding, indicating they haven't switched their wardrobes out. Despite its size, this is a humble home—well cared for, but well lived in.

Kendall's apartment is also cluttered. Apparently, her poor organization is hereditary.

The front door has been left open. Blake and his family enter first, heading through the foyer and straight into what I'm assuming is the kitchen. Based on the sound of laughter and clattering dishes, the cooking area is the epicenter of the house. Again, I'm making assumptions, but I now understand why Kendall is obsessed with food. The smells coming from the kitchen are mouthwatering. Seared meat, melted butter, shallots, and... Yes, sugar. My favorite enemy.

As soon as we enter the foyer, a booming voice drifts down from the second floor.

"Did I see my chicken nugget driving a Bugatti?"

Kendall brushes her hair behind her shoulders, straightening for a confrontation. But Ken's confidence puts her delectable breasts on display, making me take another gander at her outfit. She's in lighter colors, but the cut of her clothing is far from innocent. She wears sneakers, oversized jeans, and a floral corset with ribbons and lace braided through the fabric.