May the Best Man Win

by BJ Bentley

  Lydia was one of the very few people who knew the sordid details of my relationship history, specifically, that of my relationship with my ex, Georgia. If anyone was the polar opposite of Georgia, it was Sophie.

  “I like her, too.”

  “Duh,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. “But, I really like her, so don’t screw it up. I have plans to become her friend.”

  “So, your matchmaking habits are self-serving, then,” I said with a laugh.

  She shrugged. “It’s a cruel world out there, Damon,” she lamented. “Us girls gotta stick together.”

  “Well, just for you, Lydia, I’ll try not to screw it up.”

  She gave me a nod and left me to review the file in front of me once more. If I could stop thinking about that kiss long enough, maybe Lydia wouldn’t have to hand the file back to me for a fourth time.

  ***

  “Thank you, Darla, that’ll be all,” I ground out. My part time administrative assistant shuffled back to her desk while I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I might regret.

  Lydia had requested the afternoon off, and while I was loathe to work through a Monday without her invaluable assistance, she had earned more than her fair share of time off when she asked for it.

  I often wondered how Lydia tolerated working with Darla, who was slow to move, whereas Lydia was constantly on the go. Darla was competent enough, but she wasn’t Lydia. Maybe it was unfair of me to hold Darla to such a high standard, but damn it all, Lydia set the bar high and hers were tough shoes to fill.

  I checked my watch, noticing that there were only fifteen minutes left in the work day. I had tugged my tie off at least three hours ago, that’s how over the day I was. I was eager to get home, and I prayed that Chloe already had dinner started by the time I strolled through the door. I was famished, and I could be a bear when I was hangry. Nobody deserved to put up with that.

  I scooped up my tie and made sure I had the essentials- my wallet, keys, and cell phone- before waving a goodbye to Darla and heading straight for the elevator. Twenty minutes later, I was pulling my Ferrari into the winding drive of my ten thousand square foot modern mansion built into the mountain side. I pulled into the garage and jogged up the steps to the kitchen where I could smell tomato sauce. I loved it when Chloe cooked. The aroma of fresh tomatoes, basil, and garlic wafted around me as I entered the room, making my mouth water.

  “Chloe, you’re a goddess, and don’t let anyone ever tell you differently,” I declared, leaning over the pot of simmering sauce, eager to get a taste.

  “Stay out of that,” she warned. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

  I grinned at her; she knew me so well. “Where’s my girl?”

  “In her room, I think. She said something about wanting to read before dinner.”

  I made my way up to the third and top level of the house and stopped in my bedroom to shuck my jacket and tie before making my way across the hall. “Hey, baby girl, you in there?”

  “Yeah,” came the soft call.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah,” I heard again.

  I pushed the door open and stepped into the room to see my daughter sitting on her bed, reading, just like Chloe said. “How was your day, baby?”

  “It was good, Daddy. How was yours?”

  “It was good. I’m glad to be home though.” I smiled at my pride and joy.

  “Me too.”

  “Yeah? Was it a rough one?”

  “Mm, not really. But Kyle Morris is kind of a jerk.” She shrugged as if this Kyle Morris kid was insignificant, despite the fact that he apparently liked to bully my daughter.

  “Yeah? What did the little punk do this time?”

  “Nothing original. He called me ‘four-eyes.’” She rolled her eyes at the uninspired insult.

  I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of anyone bullying my kid, even if it didn’t seem to bother her all that much. Like water on a duck, my girl allowed things to roll right off her. “Maybe I should have a talk with your teacher,” I mused out loud.

  She shrugged again. “If you want, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Big deal or not, half pint, I’ll call the school in the morning.” I reached out to ruffle her hair, which she shook off.

  Affection between us was common and displayed openly. For me, I’d had to be both parents, so I tended to shower her to the point of smothering sometimes. For her, I think she craved the acceptance. She was far brighter than most kids her age, and she had little interest in most of the things other seven year olds enjoyed. With me, she could be whoever she wanted to be and not be judged. “Chloe says dinner’s almost ready, so why don’t we get washed up?”

  “Okay,” she said, marking her place with a bookmark, sliding off the edge of the bed and out of the room.

  ***

  “You should know that Georgia called today,” Chloe said quietly before taking a sip of the cabernet I’d opened after dinner.

  “She called the house? I should have known,” I muttered at Chloe’s knowing look. Georgia had called both my cell and work lines that afternoon, none of which I accepted. I’d put my phone on silent and let Darla take messages that I promptly threw in the trash.

  “What did she say to you?” I shouldn’t let my curiosity get the better of me, but when it came to my unstable ex, it was better not be caught unaware.

  “Just that she wanted to talk to her. Mentioned something about Christmas.”

  “Christmas? Oh, fuck no. Not happening. Not ever.” There was no way in hell I was letting that crazy bitch get anywhere near my daughter, biological mother or not. As far as I was concerned, she gave up her parental rights the day she chose the bottle over our daughter. Technically, I had full custody, so there wasn’t anything Georgia could do concerning my daughter without my approval anyway. But that doesn’t mean the skank wouldn’t try.

  “Do me a favor, Chlo. If she calls here again, tell her I said she can go fuck herself.”

  Chloe, not liking Georgia anymore than I did, smirked into her wine glass.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie

  I was way more excited about it being Taco Tuesday in the elementary school cafeteria than any grown adult should be, but that didn’t stop me from opting to leave my lunch cooler at home in favor of some Tex-Mex fare prepared by Portland retirees who served up salsa in order to supplement their Medicare. I’d been thinking about lunch since I got up that morning and was still thinking about it when I walked into my classroom at seven thirty.

  I had about thirty minutes before students started trickling in, and I made the most of my alone time to prepare my lessons for the day. The spelling versus math debate from Friday got me thinking that it would be too easy to fall into the trap of predictability. Sure, kids needed structure and routine, but they also needed fun, and learning should be fun. So, I was brainstorming ways of switching things up in the classroom that would keep things interesting and engaging for my students without spinning their world off its axis.

  I was contemplating an afternoon of science experiments when there was a knock at my door. It opened before I was even out of my chair.

  My eyes widened at my unexpected visitor as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Well, Miss James, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Damon. What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms over my chest, partly to convey that he was unwelcome in my classroom, but mostly to conceal my hardened nipples.

  “Well, see, that’s a funny story. My daughter has informed me that she has been bullied. So, naturally, being the doting father than I am, I called the school’s principal to insist that he address the issue. Imagine my surprise when he told me my daughter’s teacher’s name.”

  His lazy, southern drawl flowed over me as he spoke. It felt like melted butter gliding over my skin. I blinked off the effect when his words finally penetrated.

  “Daughter?” Damon was a father? How did
I not know that? What else was he hiding? A wife? More kids? Wait, I didn’t have any students with the last name of Hatch in my class.

  “That’s right. Tierney Buchanan.”

  Oh, no, not Tierney. I adored that girl. How could she be the offspring of the biggest dick in Dickville?

  “Her last name’s not Hatch,” I said, stupidly, because that was obviously not information pertinent to this discussion, nor was it something he was not aware of.

  He flashed a quick smile. “No, it’s not, though I wish it was. Buchanan is her mother’s name. We were never married, but I have full custody.”

  “So, why haven’t you changed it?”

  “Because I’m me.”

  It took more than a moment for the implication to sink in, but once it did, his answer made sense. He was Damon Hatch. Tech billionaire. His face and name were plastered on magazines and T.V. He was a public figure and therefore tabloid fodder and the target of the paparazzi. His life was subject to every invasive maneuver any journalist or investigator worth their salt could devise. And that meant, so was his family.

  “You’re protecting her,” I murmured.

  “So, about this bully…” he said, ignoring my previous statement.

  “Kyle Morris,” I sighed. “Yes, Kyle seems to have a fondness for tormenting Tierney. I’ve warned him off a few times already.”

  “I’m not interested in warnings, Miss James. I’m confident you’ll put an end to it altogether.”

  For some reason, him calling me ‘Miss James’ bristled. It was too formal for Damon, a man who had never been any such thing with me.

  “My next step will be speaking with Kyle’s parents. Mr. Hatch,” I tacked on with emphasis.

  His lips twitched at my sneer, and he abruptly switched gears. “Well, now that we’ve gotten our business out of the way, let’s discuss more pleasant things, shall we?”

  “Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you have a daughter I didn’t know about.”

  He stiffened a fraction, and if I hadn’t been watching so closely, I doubt I would have noticed.

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Problem?” I asked, surprised. “Of course not. Why would it be?”

  He relaxed slightly and affected a shrug. “Many women don’t want to get involved with a man who has kids.”

  “Well, we’re not involved, so whether or not you’ve procreated is really of no concern.”

  “Ah, Sophie,” he tsked. “We are involved. That kiss on Friday sealed it.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he got there first.

  “Don’t bother denying it, doll. I’ve had your tongue in my mouth. I know exactly what you taste like, and I’m looking forward to swimming in it.”

  Technically, he’s had more than just my mouth, but I wasn’t about to bring up our disastrous night together. As it was, I didn’t have to.

  “I’ve decided that we’re going to pretend like that stolen hour at Johnny and April’s wedding never happened. Because that clearly wasn’t you in that room with me. That was some one-dimensional facsimile of the complex, multi-faceted, lush woman you really are. No, the real Sophie, she’s the one I’m involved with. And she’s the one who is quickly going to learn that I’m the type of man who gets off on solving puzzles.”

  I scowled at him. “I’m not a puzzle.”

  “The straight-laced teacher who enters wet t-shirt contests? Oh, you certainly are.”

  My scowl deepened. “It only happened once,” I muttered.

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Whatever. You need to leave. My students will start arriving soon.” When he made no move to leave, I grabbed him by both biceps and attempted to turn him toward the door.

  His hands rose in surrender. “Alright, doll, I’ll go. Just as soon as I get my goodbye kiss.”

  I froze in place. “I’m not kissing you!” I hissed.

  “Fine. I’ll kiss you,” he said just before his mouth took mine. He lightly pinched my chin between his fingers to hold me steady as he ravaged my mouth. It was a wet and deep kiss, but over much too quickly. Wait, I mean, it was wildly inappropriate, and it should never have happened.

  When I opened my eyes again, he was already gone.

  ***

  “Okay, who can tell me who our very first President of the United States was?” I watched a flurry of hands go up. “Carly?”

  “George Washington.”

  “Very good, Carly. Thank you.”

  I was in the middle of giving the class an impromptu mini history lesson to kill time before the lunch bell rang. It was something I did from time to time that was outside my normal curriculum, and the kids seemed to enjoy learning random facts about everything from our first president to how cotton candy was made. There was never any homework or tests associated with these mini-lessons, they were all just in good fun.

  But when the lunch bell rang, I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d been looking forward to those tacos. I waited until Tierney joined me in escorting the rest of the class to the cafeteria.

  “I didn’t pack a lunch today, so you’re going to have to wait with me while I grab some tacos before we head back.”

  “That’s okay, I’m having tacos today too,” she said, getting in line with her classmates.

  “You going to go out for recess?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, then. See you when you’re done eating.”

  Undoubtedly, the most valuable perk of being a teacher was budging to the head of the line on Taco Tuesday, so I grabbed my food quickly and ate at my desk while reminiscing about the kiss that should never have happened.

  Done eating, I swung by the teacher lounge to grab a soft drink, realizing that I hadn’t seen or spoken to Phil since our non-date. It wasn’t like I necessarily saw him on a day-to-day basis since we taught two different grades, but I would have thought if he was as interested as I believed him to be, he would have made an effort to say hello. I cringed at my own double standard, since I had made zero effort to see him. I hoped he wasn’t ill, and that’s why I hadn’t seen him.

  Entering the teacher lounge, I quickly realized that Phil was most definitely not ill. In fact, it appeared that the reason I hadn’t seen him was because he was too busy cozying up to Annette, the school nurse.

  “Oh! Sophie,” Phil said, obviously embarrassed at being caught. He sidled up to me and spoke in a low tone. “I’m really sorry, Sophie. I wanted to tell you, but well, it seemed like you and Damon Hatch have something going on, so-”

  “Wait. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

  “Well,” he began, “I had a great time on Friday. But it was obvious that there was something,” he shrugged helplessly, “between you and Hatch.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “Frankly, I know there’s no competition.”

  I took pity on him and conceded his point. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with us, Phil. I had a good time, too. But, you’re wrong about Damon and me.”

  “I saw you two kissing in the parking garage.”

  Oh.

  “Look, no hard feelings, okay?” he continued. “Besides, I think Annette and I are really hitting off, and I’d like to see where it goes.”

  “Totally understand. No hard feelings.” I smiled, showing him I meant it. I couldn’t help but feel like I dodged a bullet even if I felt guilty about how it happened.

  Chapter 7

  Sophie

  “I still don’t get why you’re fighting it so hard,” April hissed during our Wednesday night yoga class.

  I tried to answer her, but hot yoga was a thousand times worse than regular yoga and all of my concentration was focused on making sure my chair pose didn’t turn into flat on my ass pose. When the yogi gently called out the next position, I slumped onto the floor in defeat.

  “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

  “I thought you loved yoga?”

  “I do, but I love it at a bal
my seventy degrees on my back patio, not on the surface of the sun.”

  “Fair enough,” April grunted, flopping down next to me. “You didn’t answer my question,” she whispered, so as to not disturb the rest of the class.

  I felt eyes on me, and when I lifted my head to investigate, the yogi merely quirked a brow.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered. “Yogi’s giving us the stank eye.”

  In the parking lot, April decided she’d had enough of my evasive maneuvers. “Alright, spill.”

  “Ugh,” I growled.

  Before class had started, I had told April all about how Damon had a surprise kid that apparently no one knew about, and by no one, I meant me because apparently, John, being Damon’s best friend knew, and he had confided in April. My sister, for some reason, not thinking that I needed to know that pertinent piece of information had neglected to let me in on the big secret.

  “She’s my student, April. Even if I wanted to get involved with Damon, which I’m officially denying at this juncture, it wouldn’t be ethical.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “I just want you to have some fun. You never have fun anymore.”

  I jerked my head back so far, my chin met my neck. “What the hell are you talking about? I have tons of fun!”

  “Don’t get defensive. I just meant that when we were younger, you were the fun sister, you know? The one who was always a little bit wild. And, I know,” she held up her hands to stave off my forthcoming objection, “you’re an adult now and responsible for molding young minds, but you can do that and still be you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “You’re saying that I’m boring.”

  “That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

  “It totally is! And I do have fun! I hike. And I do yoga.”

  She looked at me expectantly. “That’s it? You hike and you do yoga. That’s your definition of fun?”

  “Yes.” I folded my arms and gave her a look that dared her to continue her questioning.