Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad(7)

By: Cassandra Dee



Which brings me back to a girl who’s been on my mind for the last couple months. Goddamn. I don’t even know her name, it’s that ridiculous, a forty-five year old guy losing his head like this. Because I’d gone with Jonah to college to move him in that first day, expecting nothing but trouble from my son.

“Don’t come,” Jonah had grunted, surly and morose. “I’ve got movers to help me.”

That meant I definitely had to go because Jonah’s a cheapskate despite his generous allowance. Likely he’d work those guys to the bone all day and then refuse to tip, so I had to be there to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t skimp on folks who’d gone the extra mile for him.

And I’d shown up just in time because my son was downstairs trying to help a beautiful girl lift a refrigerator. Sure, it was just a mini, but Jonah’s never been to the gym to save his life. He’s still small and spindly, taking after his petite mother who barely ate. So I watched, amused more than anything as he and the girl lifted the box between them, wobbly and unsteady, looking like they were going to collapse any second.

And when it got ridiculous, when I saw the sweat popping out on my son’s forehead, I stepped in just in time and whisked it away from them. Honestly, it wasn’t that heavy, Jonah’s just not the type for any type of physical exertion, he’s soft, a baby still. My son turned away in a huff, face going red, but the girl smiled at me gratefully, relieved.

“Thank you so much, umm …?,” she said softly, those eyes like pools of brown caramel.

“Yeah, thanks Dad,” shot Jonah, making sure to emphasize the word “Dad.” “Watch out though, there are stairs, don’t want to strain your aging back or hurt your knees.”

And I shook my head, more embarrassed for Jonah than anyone else. It was my fault anyways. I’d spent so much time working and building my business that I’d barely seen my son, and now at eighteen, he was an insecure wreck. He’d been pampered by his mother, raised like a lap dog and had none of the confidence, the assertiveness that I’d expect in a man. Instead, he was a fluttery girl, his self-esteem low, with a mouth that spewed insults right and left. But I took a deep breath. There was no point in crying about spilled milk and, besides, I’d sold my business recently. I had time to focus on my son now, and was here on moving day like a caring parent, trying to ease the transition.

But Jonah had already stormed off, so I merely nodded at the girl.

“After you,” I rumbled, ignoring the boy’s insult.

And the brunette nodded, biting her lip, smiling at me shyly once more.

“Thanks so much,” she murmured while holding the door open for me. We made it up to the third floor without incident and once I put the refrigerator on the floor, I got my first good look at the brunette. Holy shit, the air froze in my throat, and my body hardened immediately. Because the woman was abso-fucking-lutely delicious. A huge rack led the way, curvy and soft, emphasizing a tiny waist before flaring into generous hips, wide and swinging. And her ass, oh god that ass. The brunette wore tight jeans that hugged every curve, emphasizing the sinuous S-shape, the fact that it was so huge, so luscious, like a shelf. I literally fought my body, forcing my erection down, but no such luck. I was hard, there was no fucking two ways about it, my dick was stiff merely from the sight of this vixen and the only way to hide it was to get out of there stat.

So without waiting for introductions, I beat feet, muttering a casual “See ya,” before disappearing into my car until the blood flowed normally, until I could breathe without rasping, my dick subsiding to a normal size once more. What the fuck was wrong with me? Get yourself together, I ground out to myself, you’re a grown man, what the fuck?

But the thing is, I can still see images of that beautiful body dancing before my eyes despite my best efforts, months later. Even though there are women popping out of my ears, offering themselves to me right and left, I still think about that one teen girl, a college freshman wearing jeans and a sweater, with the big brown eyes and peachy pout. And fuck me, but I’m such a loser. Because my brain goes in circles dreaming about this woman, I can’t help it, and shit, but I don’t even know the brunette’s name. She’s a random college co-ed that I met for five minutes, and I’ll probably never see her again.

So I grunted, shaking my head with disgust, dropping my gym bag next to the front door carelessly. Fuck, even the hard work-out hadn’t distracted me, I was still thinking about the brunette. I let out another grunt, striding to the kitchen, figuring I’d make myself something to eat, or maybe my housekeeper had left something appetizing in the fridge.

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