by Penny Wylder
My Dad’s Bossy Friend
Penny Wylder
Copyright © 2020 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.
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Contents
More Must Reads by Penny Wylder
1. Perri
2. Perri
3. Perri
4. Kent
5. Perri
6. Kent
7. Perri
8. Kent
9. Perri
10. Perri
Epilogue
Also by Penny Wylder
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1
Perri
“I told the new tenant you'd be there by eleven. You're not going to be late, are you?” His voice comes out as a stern warning, more than a question.
I can hear the disappointment instantly. He’s already anticipating my failure before I’ve even had a chance to prove myself. As if I've already done something wrong. He's always been this way. Certain that I can’t achieve anything. Undermining my every decision. Assuming I won't do the job as well as he wants me to.
I go left, he pulls me right. I climb up, he tears me down. I offer an idea, he tweaks it, twists it around until it’s his own. My father needs control, and he takes it any chance he gets. And when his plans backfire, or when things don’t go as expected? Then he claims it's not his fault, but a result of my decisions and actions.
Honestly, his greatest fear is my own failures and how they'll impact him, more than anything else. All I've ever asked for is a chance, an opportunity to prove myself. And every idea is met with resistance. Before the last word is off my lips, he’s already shot it down
Until now.
“Yes, Dad, I'm almost there,” I say out loud into the car speakers as I check my mirror, and shift lanes. “I'm getting off the highway now. I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“You have both sets of keys right?”
“Yes.”
“And the key for the pool house?”
“Yes, Dad, I've got everything I need. This isn’t rocket science. I've got this under control.” I'm trying not to be too short with him, I don't want him to revoke this opportunity before I even set foot on the property, but it’s impossible to take this henpecking without some sort of reaction.
This is a big deal to me. I want it to go perfectly. I'm determined to show him that I'm not the irresponsible child he seems to think I am. In fact, I think I’m more mature than most people my age, and I think I happen to have pretty good business instincts, too.
And today, I finally have the chance to show him that I'm capable of running his rental properties, and I'm not going to blow it. I've been begging him for this, and finally he relented. There is no way I’m letting this shot slip through my fingers. Failure is not an option.
My father laughs into the speaker, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Perri, this isn't a game, this is real life. This isn't a take your daughter to work day for school. I'm counting on you. If you want to have more responsibilities, I’m going to being relying on you to get shit done. If you’re not up for it. . ..”
“Dad! You act like I haven't been watching you my entire life. I know what I’m doing.”
“Watching and doing are two totally different things. This is real now, and I'm not going to be there to hold your hand every step of the way. You have one month to prove yourself, and lucky for you, you'll have the same tenant the entire time. That should make it easier on you.”
“Dad, I get it, this is a trial run. You've made that clear. I just don't want you trying to micromanage everything, and I don't want you to worry. I know what I'm doing.”
He grunts loudly, the noise gurgling up from the back of this throat. “Don't worry, right,” he says with so much derision it makes my skin crawl. “That's easier said than done, sweetheart. I want you to succeed, but not at the expense of my reputation or my bank account.”
It always goes back to two things. . .
His reputation. His money.
How dare I smudge his suit with any dirt. How dare I plant risk in his world?
This is his money and his name, and I'm supposed to do everything his way.
I'm done with this conversation. It's demeaning and makes me feel like a child. I know what I'm doing, and he's just going to have to trust me.
“Perri, did you hear me?”
Rolling my eyes to myself, I switch the call from the car speakers back to the phone. “Da. . . ad?” I ask, pretending like my connection is getting spotty. “You. . . there? Can. . . hear. . . Hello?”
“Perri! I hear you. You’re breaking up. Can you hear me?” he asks, his voice clear as day.
“I. . . can't. . . Da—”
Click.
Hanging up my phone, I let out a relieved sigh, and drop it into the cup holder. I'm not going to be able to do this well if he's going to be up my ass the entire time. I need him to just trust me. I'm a twenty-one year old woman, not a damn child. I don't need him looking over my shoulder every second of every day.
I'm going to prove him wrong. Make him eat his words.
I see my exit up ahead and merge over. I follow the long winding exit and end up on a road with palm trees towering on each side. I roll down my window and take deep breaths of the sea air as I drive closer to the ocean. My father just purchased this little beach house in Florida a few months back. The house needed some major renovations, but luckily he timed it just right, and it was ready in time for peak tourist season. It rented immediately.
Sticking my hand out the window, I let it ride the wind up and down like a roller coaster. I'm happy, I feel good. I know what I'm doing, I have no doubt this is going to be easy. A single tenant. A practically new house after the renovations. I mean, really, what can go wrong? Once my father sees I can handle myself, I'm hoping he’ll finally loosen the reigns and let me become a regular part of his rental properties business.
He can't do this forever, eventually he's going to retire, and my older step-sister and step-brother have their own lives. They’re not interested in taking over his business. He's going to need someone to take charge, and I’m going to show him that I’m the best one to carry on the family business. I’m ready.
Coming around another bend, I see something in the middle of the road, and I slam on my brakes. The tires screech, and I squeeze the steering wheel as the car jerks to a stop and my body jolts forward slightly.
The little lump I saw in the middle of the road is a tiny kitten. The poor thing is trying to crawl, but its back legs don't seem to be strong enough. The pain and fear are apparent in its tiny face. I can tell its crying, but it's so soft, its tiny meows aren't audible over the sound of the engine. My heart breaks seeing it, terrified and straining to move. I throw my car in park and jump out of the car. I drop down next to the cat and start looking it over to see if it’s injured. I don’t want to lift it and cause any further harm, but I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.
Honk! Honk!
Whipping my head to look over my shoulder, there's a car behind mine, and the driver is laying on the horn and throwing his arms up, shouting at me by the look of his contorted face, altho
ugh I can’t hear him over the blaring horn.
“Go around!” I yell, throwing my arm out and showing him the empty lane where he can pass.
He gives me a dirty look and the finger as he speeds around my car.
Dick.
Giving him the finger back, I bend down. Scooping the kitten up in my hands, it's so small, so tiny. I can feel every rib and it’s quivering in my hands. If I hadn’t stopped to help it, it wouldn’t have made it in the middle of the road for another ten minutes. Pulling it into my chest, I walk back to my car, and drop into the front seat.
I set the kitten in my lap and it curls up into a ball, resting its little head on my thigh. I can almost see a sense of relief come over the tiny cat as it relaxes, and it stops quivering so violently. I move my car out of the road, and into the breakdown lane. I open up the internet browser on my phone and search for the closest vet. It's only a few miles away. I should have plenty of time to get there, make sure the kitten is checked in, and then make it to the rental property before the new tenant arrives.
As I drive I keep one hand on the kitten, feeling its little breaths. The longer I drive, the less it shakes, until it finally dozes off. The drive to the vet doesn’t take long, and when I arrive, there isn’t anyone in the waiting room. But I have to leave my credit card information for the cat’s care, and it takes me a lot longer than I expected. There's paperwork, and then questions, and they just won't let me leave.
They're going to keep the kitten over night to check it out to see what's going on with its back legs. I leave my name and number so they can call me and let me know how he’s doing. Turns out it's a boy, and he's not much older than two to three months.
Once I get to my car, I pull out my phone and check the time. I’ll barely make it to the house before the tenant. I peel out of the vet’s parking lot with a screech, and take that picturesque road back in the direction I just came from, breaking several speeding and traffic laws. I squint out the window when I pull up to the street, trying to make out the house numbers in the glaring afternoon sun.
“Ah, shit,” I say out loud to myself as I finally spot the house number. I realize the driveway isn't empty.
There's a car already parked in the driveway, so I pull in next to it. Checking the clock I realize I am a full hour late.
This isn't how I wanted to start this.
I fold down my visor and I fix my hair. I may as well take a few seconds to reapply some lip gloss. It can’t hurt at this point. Staring at myself in the mirror, I give myself a pep talk.
You’ve got this. No problem at all. This is going to be easy.
Letting out a weighted breath, I climb out of my car, and adjust my blouse. Running my fingers through my hair, I clear my throat and stiffen my shoulders. I want to come in bold, strong, I don't want the new tenant to think I'm afraid or nervous.
One of the rules to success from my father; always project confidence. If you bring it, they'll feel it, and they'll know you mean business.
Walking up the driveway, I head for the front door. I stand still for a moment, debating if I should knock or just walk in.
My father's voice rings in my head, 'Whose house is this? They don't own it. Walk right in.'
Music coming from the backyard deck catches my ear, so I follow the sound around to the back of the house. Pulling the gate open, I step into the backyard and see a man lying on his stomach in one of the lounge chairs.
His bare back glistens under the warm rays of the sun. His entire body is sparkling like a giant gem, and I suddenly can't breathe.
Stopping short, my body goes up in flames. Salt and pepper hair, sun kissed skin, his back full of hard muscles, with broad shoulders and a lean waist. I can tell he's on the older side, and that just makes him even hotter.
I love older men.
They have their shit together. They're mature and they know what they want. Unlike the boys I knew in school, or the loser my mother ran off with after my parents divorced. He was a wannabe rock star, a guy with no real ambitions other than to mooch off his parents, and my mother, to make his dream come true.
I hated him the moment I first saw, even though I was a little girl and knew barely anything about life or relationships. But I could see the way that he’d ask my mom for money, or sit on his ass and eat our food all day while my mom busted her ass working two jobs to support us. I could tell he was a man who contributed nothing; not just to my mother’s life, but also to the world. He ruined my life, my mother's, and for some reason, she's still too hung up on him to see him for the loser he is.
After all these years of playing music with a crappy band in dive bars, he's got nothing to show for it.
I'm not going to end up like that. Working hard to fund my loser boyfriend. Nope, not me. I'm going to find a man who has his shit together, and I'm never letting him go. Simple as that.
The man on the lounge chair taps his foot to the beat coming out of his phone, drawing my eyes down his back and to his muscular ass. He clenches his ass, and my heart jumps.
This guy looks damn hot, and I haven't even seen his face yet.
In a pair of green cargo shorts, his head is resting on his forearms, facing the water in front of him. He's rocking softly to the music, sunglasses covering his eyes and his face tilting toward the water.
My mind starts to run instantly, images of this sexy man lifting himself off the chair and seeing me, his eyes hooded as he licks his lips because he likes what he sees. This daydream pulls me in, and I'm happy to follow where it leads me.
With a sharp jawline, maybe there's even a little stubble covering his cheeks. I smile lightly and entice him to come closer. His five o'clock shadow darkens his skin, and my thighs buzz, willing and ready to take on the sandpaper feel. That shadow is just enough, it's something that'll scrape roughly against my skin as he licks his way down my body, but not enough to cause too much pain, just enough to let me know he’s there.
The vision is clear, crisp, and real. It's so real, I can even smell his musky cologne, the notes of sandalwood and juniper. My nerves fire off inside, sending tingles through my body.
The movie keeps playing, slowing time to almost nonexistent. I'm in my own head, trapped by a man I don't even know, who's probably twice my age.
In my fantasy, he moves with determination across the back patio, sweeping an arm around my waist and yanking me to his chest. My fingers brush over the rough plains of his face, and this sexy stranger smirks playfully.
The images in my head are wild, so clear I swear I can feel his touch. His lips feather kisses down my neck, rough and gentle in the same breath. He pulls me deeper into his chest, his lips turning feverish.
My body tingles, my nipples stiffen, and my panties are wet. His lips crush mine, his tongue savagely driving into my mouth, licking and exploring. He's feral, 0verpowering me like the man in control he is. And I'm accepting it, taking it, loving it.
Strong, large, firm hands sweep me off my feet. Embracing me like I have no will of my own. And I don't want it. I surrender. I want this man to take me however he wants. His mouth is greedy, his hands are fierce, and his shaft is hard as rock.
The man wraps my legs around his waist, and my skirt bunches up around my hips. He walks us back until my ass hits the sliding glass door. He grunts, driving his lips harder against my mouth as he pulls his dick out and slips it easily into my soaked pussy.
My heart is racing in my chest, beating fast and hard. I can feel my mouth start to water as my mind runs away into this dark and dirty dream. Every nerve is sensitive, from my nipples to my slit.
Stop! No. I'm a professional.
Blinking those dirty thoughts away, I bring myself back to reality. The tenant is still lying down on the lounge chair. He’s completely unaware that I’m standing here, ogling him. He totally unaware that I even exist. Waving a hand in front of my face, I try to cool myself down. My body is hot from head to toe, and I need to bring myself back to earth.
This is crazy. Calm down, Perri. This is work, you’re not just visiting Starbucks and making up fantasies about the new barista. This could be the most important day of my professional life.
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly and get my mind in the game. This is a new tenant, not some sexual object sent to fuel my dirty, depraved mind.
Shaking my hands at my sides, I force my body to calm down, and my mind to go blank. I have a goal, a mission, and it isn't to fuck the new tenant.
My father would kill me. Shaking my head, I force the thoughts away and steady myself to introduce myself.
Clearing my throat, I take a confident step forward. “Hello,” I say, making my presence known. There's a small waver in my voice, a hidden layer of desire left over from my fantasy.
The man glances at me over his shoulder, large sunglasses covering his face. He pushes up with flat palm against the chair, and his muscles bulge, causing me to suck in a quick a breath.
My heart starts to race as my fantasy begins to replay in my mind. But I push it back, into the far, far recesses of my mind because this isn't some Lifetime movie, it’s reality, and this man is merely a paycheck for my father, and by extension, for me too.
He's not here for me to drool over, to lust for, to give myself to. He's forbidden because I’m a professional, dammit.
“I'm Perri,” I say as I take another step forward and extend my hand. My mouth turns up in a full smile, eager to make a good impression despite the butterflies in my stomach.
Because that's what's important. A first impression is how the person is going to see you from day one. And like my father always says, “If you screw up a first impression, you screw up your reputation. Business is like a locker room, people talk.”
