Turning Thirty-Twelve by Sandy James

and—”
    “Damn it, Jackie,” David interrupted using his favorite phrase.
    “Don’t interrupt me!” I had grown heartily tired of the fact the man had never listened to a single thing I had ever said in the twenty-odd years I’d known him. Well, he was damn well going to listen now! “Second, I didn’t take him to meet the boys. He was there when I got there. But if I had, it still wouldn’t be any of your business.”
    He narrowed his eyes, getting ready to scold me.
    Screw that . “You can leave now,” I insisted. “I’m expecting company.”
    His eyes shot fire, and that surprised the crap out of me. “ Another guy? Jesus, Jackie. Are you that desperate? Two guys in one day?”
    “Yeah, two guys in one day. Three if you count the sadomasochist I have coming over at midnight. I need to find my leather corset and my barbed whip, so you can go now .” I took a couple of steps toward the foyer.
    David grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that. I’m just... Pat sounded concerned. He said this guy hurt you. If you didn’t take him to meet the boys, why was he in Bloomington?”
    It took me a moment to decide just how much of the sad little tale I needed to share with him. “His daughter’s dating Nate, and he wanted me to meet her. I guess she wanted Nate to meet her dad.”
    “Then how did you hook up with him?”
    “His other daughter is one of my freshmen.” I immediately wished I’d have censored that bit of information when I saw his condescending frown.
    “You went out with a student’s father? That’s pretty stupid. Is the guy married? Damn it, Jackie. You could lose your job carrying on like that. Didn’t you even think about that?”
    “You’ve obviously mistaken me for Ashley. You know, your current wife—the one who slept with you while you were still married to me.” I wanted to slap him. Instead I just fisted my hands at my side. “Not every man screws around on his spouse.”
    His nostrils flared at that statement.
    Good. Hope I hit a nerve, loverboy .
    “He’s a widower. Not that you really need to know any of this. Is the Spanish Inquisition over now? I told you, I’ve got comp—” The doorbell interrupted me.
    Shit.
    Now what did I do?
    I wanted to give David the bum’s rush out the back, but he went charging to the foyer and to the front door. He ran to get there first.
    Flinging it open, he gaped at Mark who glared right back. I felt like a boxing referee before a match and thought about telling them to go back to their corners and then come out swinging.
    “And you are?” David asked with such a rude, snide tone I seriously considered kicking him in the shin.
    Mark gave David a quick head to toe appraisal and obviously figured out who he was. He was a detective, after all.
    He held out his hand.
    David ignored it, refusing to even offer a polite handshake.
    “I’m Mark Brennan. Judging from that gray hair, you must be Jackie’s father. Nice to meet you, sir.”
    I snorted a loud laugh, and David turned to glare at me. I had to put my fingers to my lips to keep from laughing again. After a long moment to regain my composure, I decided to intervene. “David, this is Mark Brennan. Mark, this is my ex—”
    “I’m her husband. Name’s David Ryan.” He still didn’t shake Mark’s hand.
    Mark withdrew his as he folded his arms over his chest. Those handsome brown eyes grew stormy.
    “Ex. My ex -husband,” I snapped, hoping Mark wasn’t reading more into the situation than there really was. It wasn’t like I’d invited David over.
    Boy, was I going to have a word or two with Pat later for getting me in the middle of this nonsense.
    “Jackie, are you ready? I thought we’d go out,” Mark said without taking his eyes off David. “Especially since your house is so...crowded.”
    “Jackie, you’re going out with this clown?” David jerked his thumb at Mark.
    “Jackie, did you invite—” Mark started to say.
    “Damn it, Jackie,”