A Taste of Greek (Out of Olympus #3) by Tina Folsom, Cynthia Cooke

did you find me here?”
    “I’ve always known where you were. I’ve been very . . . proud.”
    She stared at him, unblinking and unable to speak over the lump of disbelief in her throat. How dare he come back now and think he would be forgiven?
    “I need a place to stay. I’ve lost my job. My apartment. I’m on my last dime.”
    “And you haven’t found anyone else to mooch off of?” The words were harsh. She knew that. She just couldn’t stop herself. The pain, the anger, raw and sharp, was settling in and stretching its claws.
    He wrung his hands in front of him. Rough hands. Reddened hands. Had they always looked like that? She tried to think back, to remember, but where her father was concerned, her memory was a big, gaping black hole. “I was hoping you could take me in.”
    “No way,” Penny said quickly.
    “It would only be for a couple of weeks until I get back on my feet, I promise. I won’t be any trouble.”
    “Grams is ill. She doesn’t need the stress of seeing you right now. Of knowing the condition you’re in. It would upset her too much.”
    “Like the way it’s upsetting you?” The jab hit its mark.
    “Don’t you think you’ve already done enough to our family?” she shot back, much louder now.
    “Yes. I was just hoping . . . ” He shrugged. “Hoping to reconnect.”
    “Sorry, Dad. That bridge was torn down a long time ago and there is nothing left of it to salvage.”
    “Listen, honey!”
    “Leave!” she shouted.
    Suddenly, Michelle burst through the doorway, her blouse slightly askew and the top buttons open. “Is everything all right?” Michelle demanded. “We could hear your voices all the way down the hall.”
    “We?” Penny asked.
    Behind her, Kenton barged into the room. She’d never liked him much: wide shoulders, tight butt, plastic smile, but like so many self-absorbed, overly attractive men, he had the personality of tissue paper—thin and transparent with no moral substance. Kenton was also an impeccable dresser, which was why Penny now raised an eyebrow when she noticed that his tie had been loosened and his shirt looked wrinkled.
    “Yes, we,” Kenton added, stepping past Michelle as if wanting to protect her like a knight in shining armor. Well, it would have worked, had he not fumbled with his tie, trying to make himself look presentable and not as though he’d just had a passionate make-out session in a broom closet. “Your voices were quite loud. Is there a problem?”
    “No,” Penny said caustically. “No problem. Just family business.”
    All she could do was stare at Michelle and Kenton. Everything was so obvious now: he wanted his shot at tenure and would use any means necessary—even if that meant romancing Michelle. Only this morning, Michelle had told her she still had a chance at gaining the tenure spot. But by the looks of it, Michelle had already cast her vote.
    Kenton glanced curiously at her father, but Penny didn’t move. Nor did she say anything. She didn’t want her father here. She didn’t even want to know him, let alone introduce him to her colleagues.
    Her father stepped past her, his hand outstretched as he walked toward her boss and competitor. “Hi, I’m Penny’s father, Bart Galloway.”
    “I’m Kenton Lowry, an assistant professor in the same department as Penny.”
    “Michelle Shafer, I’m the dean of the history department,” her boss said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
    “No, no interruptions. We just have a little misunderstanding. But it’s all worked out now, isn’t it, Penny?”
    He turned to her, and she nodded. What else could she do? He had her cornered. She pasted a fake smile on her lips. “We did. Dad was just leaving. Weren’t you, Dad?”
    “Looks like it. I’ll see you at home, pumpkin.” He turned and walked out the door right behind Michelle and Kenton.
    Penny could hear them as they continued down the hall, making small talk. Becoming friendly. More than anything, she wanted to throw