Then she gave me a longass load of crap on the phone yesterday about how this isn't what she's "looking for" and then we ended up having the hottest phone sex I've ever had.
So it's the only fucking phone sex I've ever had-- thwack, another dart-- it was hot. Listening to Kendra tell me what she's doing, thinking about me while she touches herself. Thwack. I get hard just thinking about it. I look around nervously to make sure I'm alone before I adjust my cock.
I texted her at lunch to tell her I miss her and to set up plans for this weekend after Mari goes back to her mom's, but she says she "just can't."
I don't understand why she wants to back off when it's obvious she wants me just as bad I want her.
Another dart hits the wall far from the board and when I go to pull them out, it's buried up to the barrel in the drywall, the damn thing comes apart in my hand when I yank it out and I'm cursing a blue streak that has nothing to do with the damned dart when I hear Mari walk into the garage.
"Dad?"
Shit.
"Yeah Bug?"
"You OK?"
No. I'm not. I haven't been this not OK since her mom served me with divorce papers 10 years ago. That was an entirely different kind of not OK. The divorce was inevitable but getting called out for not being a man was hard on my ego, even if I needed that wake up call.
"Yeah, Bug, why?"
After I realized Mari's mom was right, I swore I was going to step up. Be a better dad and a better man. And I have. I have a good job, a nice house, I haven't whored around. I haven't brought a parade of would-be step moms through Mari's life. I haven't gotten hung up on any random pussy that I hooked up with on impulse after a show down at Josh's bar.
I've never been one of those guys that uses women to scratch an itch. I use my own hand to scratch my itches.
I was always worried about a woman getting hung up on something I wasn't ready to offer but now the reality of who's doing the hanging isn't sitting well with me and I don't know what to do about it.
"Dad," Mari opens the small fridge in the man cave-- which is really just one side of the garage that's got more of my toys in it than hers-- and pulls out a can of Mountain Dew for her and a beer for me. If my little girl is bringing me a beer without being asked, she's about to call a family meeting so I'm not surprised when she hits me with a very serious, "we need to talk."
She sits on one of the bar stools at the table and dangles her skinny legs...except her legs aren't as skinny as they used to be.
"I'm almost 14," she tells me in a voice that sounds far more mature than I'm ready for, "and I'm going to be in high school soon."
Mari started wearing a bra 2 years ago. She started wearing make up last year. I have a bad feeling she's going to start talking about sex with me in the near future.
"Before you know it, Dad, I'm going to be dating."
Shit. Maybe the future just got nearer. Stay calm. I put my ass on the couch and try not look like I'm freaking out.
Mari and I have always had a good friends kind of relationship. Her mom got remarried after the divorce and started having more kids while I just kind of felt like I needed to be a good example of the kind of man I want my daughter to end up with some day.
Not today though. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try not to down the beer all at once.
I know girls Mari's age are dating. I know this is normal. I can handle whatever she tells me. I just wish she could have timed it better. Hit me with this when I'm not busy trying to figure out how to convince Kendra that I'm serious about more than just fucking.
"Dad? Are you listening to me?"
I snap to. What was she saying? "Of course I am."
"You seem weird," Mari hops off the bar stool and brings me another beer, "I don't need you freaking out, OK?"
The kid is smart. What the fuck am I going to do when my little girl doesn't want to stay home hanging out with her old man anymore?
Kendra. Her image flashes in my mind, memories of holding her curled up on the couch beside me while we watched movies together.
"OK." I agree carefully.
"The thing is, Dad, I'm worried about you."
Worried about me? I give her my full attention.
"You're getting old," gee thanks, "and you haven't had a girlfriend since when, Dad? Mom?"
"Jenna." I remind her.
"Jenna was your girlfriend?" Mari sounds unconvinced, "I thought she was more like a babysitter, she spent more time with me than with you."
I watch my daughter scrunch up her face accusingly and take a drink from her can of pop. Does she have highlights in her hair? I don't remember her mentioning going to the salon lately, I wonder if her mom did them last week for her.
She's right about Jenna. It was a big reason it didn't work out with us. I loved that she was close to Mari, but she was in it for my daughter more than for me. Sure, I want a woman that loves my kid, but Mari has a mom. A good mom. I need someone who wants to be with me. Maybe someone who wants to make new babies together. I'd love a chance to start over now that I'm stable and have half a clue what I'm doing.
"A man your age needs a woman, Dad."
Oh shit, this is about sex.
I feel the color draining from my skin and I fight the urge to jump up and run off to mow the lawn or climb up on the roof to check the vents or something. Anything to evade the impending lecture from my 13 year old daughter about how I should be getting laid.
"Dad!" The kid knows me too well, "I'm serious! You should be dating. What do you even do when I'm not here, anyway?"
I am infinitely relieved that she has veered off into making sure Dad's not lonely territory instead of the direction I was expecting.
"You know I do stuff when you're not home, Ladybug," I finally relax a little, "I play down at the bar and I hang out with Uncle Paul and the guys. We go fishing, we go camping up there in the mountains at that site you hate because it doesn't have bathrooms. See? I'm not just moping around the house waiting for you to come back."
Oh, the eyeroll. I swear I'm worried she's going to sprain a muscle in there one of these days the way she does that.
"Dad."
The single word is supposed to tell me everything. And it does.
"Ladybug," I pat the leather next to me and she scoots onto the couch beside me so I can hug her, "why's this such a big deal all of a sudden?"
"I worry about you is all," she tells me with her head tucked under my arm, "Mom has Rolland and they have their own kids but you don't have anyone. All your guy friends are married and they're all having babies. I'm going to be in high school, Dad. I'm going to be driving and I'm going to get a boyfriend--"
She moves to the other side of the couch and punches me when I growl at the thought, "and then I'm going to move out and go to college and then I have to go to medical school after that. I won't be here anymore. I want you to be happy."
"I'm happy, Bug." I reach over and pinch her toes.
"Don't you ever want to get married again?" She asks me in a serious voice that's new to me, more grown up, less when-do-I-get-a-new-mom and more like she gets what being married really means.
I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but I am.
"And have more kids?" She asks, "You're a really good dad, you should meet someone and have babies with her on purpose."
"Hey!" I set the beer on the side table and grab Mari's foot, dragging her into my lap, "I love you."
Mari giggles, that high pitched giggle that she's always had and it sounds like my little girl again instead of this mature young woman that's been harassing me for the last hour, "I know, Dad!" she squeals as she outmaneuvers my attempt to catch her in a bear hug, "I know you love me," she gets all serious on me again as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek, "but you didn't make me on purpose."
"Well I'm not going to love new babies any more just because they were planned," it's important to me for her to know that but she rolls her eyes at me like I'm bei
ng ridiculous.
"Dad," she catches my jaw between her hands and gives me a stern look, "I mean it. You need to start dating. And shave," she combs through my week old beard with her fingers, "you're all furry again."
I get a kiss on the forehead and she's gone.
I run my hand over my beard with a frown. I do tend to let it go.
I wonder if Kendra will fall for the "my daughter's making me do this" line?
Kendra
"How old are you?" Mariah asks.
"29," I answer her without putting much thought into it.
"Like 29 for real? Or 29 like you're really 35 and you don't want to admit it?"
My shadow is a spunky just-turned 14 year old named Mariah. Like the wind-- and yes, she knew she was named after the wind. I got the full scoop on how Paint Your Wagon is the only musical her dad would watch because it has Clint Eastwood in it "even though he doesn't shoot anybody."
I have also heard the song several times now. She and Lilly love to sing it together.
Mariah graduated 8th grade last week and turned 14 yesterday. She is an endless ball of energy with bright strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes that are capable of suckering me into almost anything.
She says she's wanted to be a veterinarian since she was 6, she hasn't been squeamish about anything so far, so this week I promised I'd let her sit on some of my surgeries. She's smart as a whip, quick witted, far too mature for her own good, and is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.
"29 for real," I answer with a laugh.
"Do you want kids?"
Well, she was becoming one of my favorite people, anyway. Today she's been full of relationship questions.
At first I thought it was the usual stuff that teenagers want to know about. The kind of stuff that usually ends up with me suggesting they talk to their parents, but it's turned into 20 questions about me. About my personal life and why am I still single and what do I plan on doing about it.
Between her and Raven, I'm surprised I'm not married off yet.
Ugh. Raven.
Ugh. Logan.
Ugh.
Logan stopped blowing up my phone, at least. I have a house full of roses that makes me glad I never told him where I work, and I still get a text every morning and every night before bed. Simple "have a wonderful day," "I miss you," and the occasional, "there's still room in my bed for you" but not the constant barrage that I got the first week after I tried to call it quits.
I thought I'd managed to break it off with him but he's not giving up.
Just when I thought he was backing off, he showed up at my doorstep last Friday. After his daughter would have gone back to her mom's. After he was done playing at the bar. Two weeks after that first time in the bathroom.
He was on my doorstep, ringing the bell relentlessly till I finally caved and opened the door.
I've seen him every day since then. I keep telling myself I need to walk away from him. I need to stop this...whatever it is...before Raven finds out about Logan and gets the wrong impression.
I don't want her to think I'm wasting her time.
I need to stop letting Logan waste mine.
"Dr. Hayes?"
Mariah shakes me out of my thoughts.
"Do you want kids someday?" She's nothing if not persistent.
"Yep," I tell her, "I do."
And isn't that the whole damn problem?
We finish our rounds and head back to my office.
"Well do you have a boyfriend?" Mariah asks as she stands in my office.
I don't miss the way her eyes seek out every picture on my desk or pinned to the bulletin board behind my computer monitor. She's not going to find any boyfriends.
"How do you know I'm not married?" I ask her. Not that she's going to find any pictures of a husband in here either.
"No ring." She shrugs.
"Maybe I just don't wear it because I don't want it to get messed up at work?"
The girl should patent her eye roll technique, it's that good. "You don't have a tan line or one of those indentations where it would be," she explains like I'm missing something so obvious, "My mom takes hers off when she does dishes but you can tell she wears one even when it's not on."
Smart as a whip. And sassy. My eye roll isn't nearly as good as hers, "No. I don't have a boyfriend," I finally answer her.
"Hmm."
I hear the wheels in her head turning but it's 4:30 and her ride is here to pick her up.
"See ya tomorrow," I wave but she's a blur running out the lobby door.
I sit at the computer and start catching up on the part of the job I like the least when my phone lights up with a new text.
"Why not?"
It's Friday again. The night his daughter comes back to his house. I thought that would make it easier. That this would be a good stopping point and that he wouldn't push things while Mari was at his place, but he's been bugging me to come to the house tonight for dinner.
Which means he wants me to meet his daughter.
We're not ready for that, right? I mean, these last few weeks have just been for fun. Hooking up and hanging out. We still barely know each other.
Meeting Mari changes what we are.
I can't start going in that direction with Logan if I'm serious about letting Raven match me to one of her clients.
I have to steel my resolve.
"Because." I reply.
"Because why not?"
"Because I have to work" What? It's mostly true.
"What do you do?"
I can see I'm not going to get much done. I shouldn't answer his texts. I should stick to my guns and ignore him until he gets the hint. Instead, I can't help myself.
When he showed up on my doorstep last time, I let him in. When he texts, I can't bring myself to ignore him. I need to end this but it's like I'm addicted.
"I'm a doctor." I type out.
"Fancy" he replies.
"Mostly paperwork. You are distracting me. Go away." I laugh as I type.
"What time home?"
Ugh. I'm sending the wrong message. I need to shut him down. I need to not keep letting Logan into my life. Or my body.
"Not sure yet."
"Will you be by later?"
I start to type a new text when the screen is interrupted by a new incoming text.
Raven.
I exit the conversation with Logan and read Raven's full message.
She won't be able to get back to me for a few more weeks.
I quickly shoot off a reply to her saying that I hope all goes well and that I'm looking forward to hearing from her, then toss my phone back into my purse so I can finish up the last of my work. Forgetting all about my unsent message to Logan in the process.
Logan
I check my phone one more time, even though I'm sure she hasn't returned any of my texts.
After I got Kendra to stop giving me lame excuses for why she was trying to break it off between us, she finally came up with a reason or two that made some sense.
She said she didn't want to get into a part time thing. She's looking for a relationship and she doesn't think it's a good idea for us to be hooking up because she knows that kind of thing never goes well.
And she's right.
Friends with benefits never works out. Because someone always wants more. Usually it's the chick because-- who fucking knows, right? They're wired to build nests or make babies or some shit so I guess it's in their DNA.
I read an article once about how orgasms make your brain produce some really potent chemicals so that every time someone makes you come, you get a little more addicted to them. It's why people fall in love, and why great sex makes up for so many other short comings in a relationship, whether that's for the best or not.
I thought we were starting over when she let me in last Friday after I got done playing at the bar. I mean, the fact that she opened the door was a good sign, right? And then she let me in-- that's a good sign. And that sh
e let me kiss her. And then she let me spread her out on top of her frilly bedspread with the purple flowers and the lacy edges.
I thought that was a really good sign that we were back on track.
Then she spent every day last week with me again.
Getting Kendra's taste on my tongue and hearing her scream for me when she comes on my cock is pretty damned addictive but so is the way her body feels wrapped around mine when she falls asleep.
I love making her laugh, and I love sitting on the couch watching movies with her while we fight over popcorn. Even the way she butters toast is sexy.
I thought inviting her over Friday would be kind of a show of faith-- just a little thing to let her know that I'm willing to entertain the idea of being more than just fuck buddies. I just wanted her to come over and have dinner and meet Mari.
Maybe it'd get Mari off my back about dating again too.
Fuck. I wanted her to meet my kid. I want Mari and Kendra to meet each other. I want to watch them get to know each other and form a bond and... I swallow hard as the full implication of what I'm thinking hits me.
I want Kendra in my home, not just in my bed. I want her in my family.
Is that why it's so fucking hard for me to make it through every day that I don't hear from her? Why I want to go over to her house and kick the damn door down and kiss her till she can't say no to me anymore?
Ordinarily I'm feeling pretty lousy by this time of the week, knowing that Mari's going to be going back to her mom's tomorrow and I'll be on my own for the weekend.
That's the reason I started playing down at the bar, it's something to make sure I don't become a hermit for the first few days after Mari leaves, when the house gets quiet and feels empty and claustrophobic at the same time.
Then Kendra came into my life a few weeks ago and the time that Mari's not home has been better.
Kendra's soft curves have definitely reminded me what the best part of being a man is, and having the place to ourselves means I can make her moan or scream in any room, at any time of the day, but having Kendra around makes the house feel balanced.
A Real Keeper: Arranged Marriage Romance Page 5
