Free Dirty Thoughts by Megan Erickson Page A

fabric. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. However, her mother clearly disapproved, because her eyes were doing that roving, disapproving thing. She pursed her lips. “Is that new?” Her tone showed she thought it was anything but new or appropriate for Bellini.
    Karen MacMillan had never been what Jenna would call a nurturer. She raised her children to be proper little MacMillan children who ate with the right silverware and drank the right wine and always, always said the right thing.
    Her mother, of course, was wearing a nice pale-pink sweater, a cream-colored pencil skirt, and pearls. The cliché made Jenna’s teeth ache.
    Jenna took a sip of her wine. “No, it’s not new.”
    Her mother hummed under her breath and clinked her wedding ring on her wine glass. Her eyes continued to roam Jenna’s body, and Jenna wondered what her mom would pick on next—maybe her hair, which could use a deep conditioning, or her eyebrows, which could probably be waxed.
    Jenna’s father cleared this throat, drawing her mother’s attention. Jenna relaxed and this time, she gulped her wine.
    “So, Jenna, you mentioned something about an employee appreciation event?” her father asked.
    Jenna put down her glass. “I think that the first step to getting the company back on track is improving employee morale. I’m sure what they want most of all is a raise across the board, which you said you’d consider. But I also think throwing some sort of event, something that helps the community or gives to charity and involves the employees is a great way to create goodwill.”
    He was watching her, tapping his chin lightly. Dylan and her mother were talking about the recent construction to the local high school while Jenna’s father contemplated her idea. But Dylan was watching their conversation with one eye, she noticed, and a frown on his face.
    “Dad, we don’t have to talk about this now,” she said. “I’m working up a proposal with ideas on what we can do.”
    He blinked and then nodded. “No, I wanted to get a feel for what you’re working on. I do like this idea, and I think you’re right. I want my employees to feel secure in their jobs and proud of their company.”
    Jenna nodded. “And I do think this will help.”
    An uproar of laughter came from a table in the back. Multiple restaurant patrons craned their necks toward the sound as the noise continued. Jenna appreciated the reprieve from her father’s scrutiny and chugged more wine. Her mother was fingering her necklace, her face pinched. “Heavens, they are loud. In a place like this? Maybe I should say something to the manager.”
    Jenna hid her eye roll. “Mom, they’re talking and laughing, not pole dancing.”
    Her mother gasped, and Dylan let out a bark of laughter.
    Jenna felt the blush rise in her cheeks. Damn wine.
    “Jenna Marie,” her mother said. “Since when do you talk like that?”
    Since forever? “Sorry, Mom.”
    Karen straightened her cardigan and murmured under her breath, probably contemplating where she’d gone wrong that her daughter mentioned pole dancing at a nice family meal.
    Jenna wished her mom would say, We can’t take you anywhere , and actually mean it and not make her suffer through these family meals.
    Midway through their meal, the loud voices from the back of the restaurant drew closer. Jenna took another sip of wine and what she saw over the rim of her glass nearly made her spit out the liquid across the table.
    Jack Payton, striding through the crowd, wearing a pair of old jeans and plaid button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows. Behind him was Cal, head down, fingers fiddling with a toothpick in his mouth. Then Brent, and a young man who looked like a grownup Max, arm linked with a small, dark-haired woman.
    Jenna set down her glass gently. The restaurant grew a little quieter as the family passed, like the calm before the storm.
    Jenna’s mother looked up, making a small gasp. She’d never liked Cal. Not one