“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Dad demanded, still not looking very pleased. “Naomi,” Knox called from the coffeepot. “Pants?” I winced. “Under the sink.” He gave me a long, unreadable look before bending to retrieve his jeans. My mother gave me an incredibly inappropriate double thumbs-up as Knox turned his back on us and zipped the fly of his jeans. MOM! I mouthed. But she just continued flashing me the thumbs and a creepy smile of approval.
