She laughs.
“There is nothing to forgive, Daddy. You’re my father. But keep in mind this isn’t only on your shoulders, okay? Gray can at least lend a hand. It’s kind of his job.”
I merely roll my eyes.
“How is he, anyway?”
My daughter goes into a rhapsody about her wonderful husband and my fabulous grandkids, and I try to block out some of it, at least. It makes me feel like a terrible person because who gets jealous of their own flesh and blood? Yet, I’d love to have children of my own again. Little children, growing round in Jane’s belly before she gives birth. She’d be a wonderful mommy, and the air stops in my throat. Am I really thinking these things?
But Harlow’s voice interrupts me again.
“So, do you want to do Sunday Supper at our house tomorrow?”
“Wish I could, but I have an investor meeting Monday in Boston, and I’m flying out tomorrow morning. Sorry, Har.”
She sighs.
“It’s fine. Make it up to me next Sunday?”
I try to delay. I think I have plans with Jane, and right now, the curvy girl gets precedence.
“We’ll see. I hate to go, baby girl, but I really need to concentrate on the presentation right now.”
“No worries, Dad. Talk later.”
“Bye, sweetie.” I hang up and wonder if I’m the worst father in the world. But industry waits for no one, and right now, I want to focus on the gorgeous girl who’s snuck into my heart.
“My man, I hate to ask you to wait, but that’s where we’re at on the merger. Until we get word from the board, we can’t move forward with more investments. Stay grounded in Denver. There’s no sense in coming to Boston now,” Simi says.
I’m disappointed, but a familiar scent wafts up my nose and my mouth waters. The announcements on the airport speakers drone on, so I have to plug my other ear to be able to finish the call. I tell Simi, “Hey, I’m just glad to get your call before I board the plane. No worries.”
“I’ll shoot you an email when I know more, Brent. Again, I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”
“Not a problem. Take care.” I hang up, walk toward the mouth-watering scent, and call Jane immediately.
“Hey, everything okay?” she sounds sleepy.
“Yeah, why do you sound weird?”
“It’s 9:42 on a Sunday morning, Brent.”
“Are you sick, honey? I just want to make sure.”
She giggles sleepily.
“No, I am sound asleep.”
I try to keep my chuckles to a minimum, “Wow. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll go.”
“No, I’m awake. What’s going on?”
“Dreiser’s donuts.”
Her voice is suddenly much more awake, “You’re not teasing me, right?”
“I’m at the airport and it looks like they just got a fresh batch out of the fryer. What do you say to—”
“YES, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!”
I laugh. “I’m always ready to give a lady what she wants. I’ll be at your place soon.” With a smile, I make sure to load a dozen with a multitude of chocolate flavors, before heading to the parking lot. Maybe my business deal just went down the drain, but I don’t care anymore. The prospect of seeing my love blows away everything else, and now, I’ve got the perfect gift in hand.
7
Jane
* * *
As soon as I hang up with Brent, I run to the shower.
“Okay, he’s going to be here soon. That’s plenty of time to shower, do a full face of makeup, blow-dry my hair, touch up my manicure, and oh who the hell am I kidding? A proper face takes thirty minutes alone, my hair takes an hour to dry with my crappy hairdryer, and my manicure? Pffft, what manicure?”
I have a good laugh at myself because I’m acting like such a nitwit. Brent loves how I look, even when it’s first thing in the morning. However, I’m still looking forward to seeing my gorgeous boyfriend and his offering of donuts. I scrub down, and then braid my wet hair like a Swiss milkmaid. It’s silly, but I like it. I change into my cleanest set of loungewear, and then put on a movie. But I’m not really watching because I’m just waiting for the Brent.
When I hear a knock, I dash to the door. There’s the handsome man, with a bag of donuts and a smile. He says, “Aloe, Gorgeous.”
I snort-laugh and ask, “Is that going to be a thing now? I feel like that’s going to be a thing.” I hold the door open for him and get to watch him from behind for a moment. “Wait, why are you in a suit? You don’t go to church.”
“I like to dress up when I fly.”
“Which reminds me, why were you at the airport this morning? I forget.”
He smiles.
“I no longer have to go to Boston for that big presentation. It’s not a big deal though. The smell of donuts made it worth showing up at the terminal. Just wait until you see what flavors I have.”
I open the box, then look at him.
“You’re a dirty, dirty boy.”
“You know better than most how true that is.”
I giggle and look at his paper cup of coffee. “Before we get to the donuts, would you like to transfer your coffee to a ceramic mug, or are you happy with your current cup?”
“I’d like ceramic, if you don’t mind, thanks,” he says while standing close to me. I smell his woody cologne and inhale deeply. It gets me every time. He peers over my shoulder, and at first, I think he’s looking at me pouring the coffee.
“Is this mug okay with you?” I ask, craning my head to look at him over my shoulder. I can’t figure out why he’s crowding me so close. It feels good because he’s big and warm, and makes me feel feminine by comparison. I definitely want to jump his bones, although Brent’s put a bit of a brake on that.
“Am I making you nervous?” he teases.
“Maybe.”
“I’m just busy appreciating your lack of a bra right now.”
I giggle and look down. Yep. No bra, and my girls look inviting in my sleep tank top. “I swear, that is not intentional. I just don’t usually wear one at home, so you get a show, I suppose.”
“I’m not complaining, Jane. Not at all,” he growls, those hazel eyes hot.
I turn around and hand him his coffee, “Well, with your whole old-fashioned take on things, I don’t want to send you the wrong message. These,” I point to my boobs, “are being unintentionally friendly. It’s out of my control.”
His gaze remains glued to my creamy orbs.
“You know my eyes are up here, right?”
“Yes, but your perfect breasts are not,” he says, not even bothering to look up.
I giggle. “You’re making me self-conscious.”
He smirks.
“We don’t want that. Time for donuts.”
“Time for a sweatshirt, is more like it.” I make a face at him.
“Whatever will make you comfortable in your own home, gorgeous. Be my guest.”
I pull a sweatshirt over my lounge camisole and rejoin him in the living room. He lays out the donut box and our coffees on the coffee table, and I ask, “So, why the whole courting thing? That was really confusing when you told me you wanted to take things slow.”
He takes off his suit coat, rolls his sleeves up his thick forearms, and flips his tie over his shoulder before reaching for a cocoa-powdered donut.
“I’m sorry that I upset you, Jane, so let me be extra clear about it all. I like you. I think you like me. And I think we’re both in a place where we can appreciate a person without having to be naked with them every time every second of every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be naked with you, but I want to get to know you first.”
I arch my brows at him.
“You mean to say, you want to know me with my clothes on?”
He nods.
“Yes, because you’re a hell of a woman, and I enjoy spending time with you. That’s not to say I want to be celibate, not at all. But sometimes, I want to enjoy clothed
you as well. Is that okay?”
I smile and grab a chocolate-glazed, crème-filled bite of glory. The napkin beneath it gleams with powdered sugar and I giggle.
“Yeah, but I have a habit of falling into bed easily, Brent. I love sex. I love everything about it, from the aching between my legs to the sore abs and throat the next day. I’m —”
“Sore abs and throat?” he asks.
I grin.
“I’m sure you don’t know firsthand, but when you ride a guy for a long time, your abdominal muscles ache for a day or two, like a really good workout. The sore throat is usually from all the moans and screaming.”
He gulps a bite of donut down and grins.
“I see. Very interesting.”
I shrug.
“I’m twenty-five, so I’m no virgin. And as I was saying, I love it. But I also understand what you’re trying to express. Sometimes the best days are the ones you spend in bed reading the news, drinking coffee, and listening to Vivaldi.”
“You like classical music?”
I smile and sip my coffee.
“I like all sorts of things. That’s for you to find out.”
“And I like learning that about you,” he smiles and the energy in his eyes makes me shiver. The electricity in the room is palpable. I don’t want to ruin his laidback dating theory, but I am so close to begging him to take me right on the couch, that I’m-
A knock at my door interrupts my lascivious thoughts. He jumps a mile and I holler at the door, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, honey,” Harlow answers.
“And me!” her daughter Fannie shouts.
Brent whispers, “Oh, shit. I need to hide!”
“But my place is too small to hide in,” I whisper back.
“I’ll go in your closet, I —”
Harlow calls, “Everything okay in there? Did you know that my dad’s car is in the parking lot? I wonder why he’s in the neighborhood?”
I throw up my hands and give up. There’s no way to get around it now. I open the door, “Hey, everyone!”
The kids scurry in and jump onto their grandfather before squealing when they see the donuts. Harlow laughs and eyes us with confusion.
“Hey Dad. Hey Jane. What is going on? Why are you here?”
Brent looks calm and improvises like a master.
“I found Jane on the side of the highway. Car trouble.”
I am so happy he’s smart. I nod furiously.
“Yeah, this morning, I woke up with a hankering for Dreiser’s so I drove out to the airport, and on my way back, my car broke down. Your dad happened to be driving by, and he helped me. Then he followed me back to make sure I got home okay.”
Harlow nods.
“Sure, but what was wrong with your car?”
My mouth opens and closes a few times because I don’t know anything about automobiles. But Brent steps in for the rescue again.
“It was nothing,” he says. “Just a little sputter in the engine, but it’s all good now.”
Harlow still looks a little skeptical at that explanation, but she nods.
“Thanks for being a Good Samaritan, Daddy.”
“Anytime,” he nods. I smile brightly as well.
“So, it’s only right that I pay my hero for his good deeds with Dreiser’s. That’s why he’s here eating with me. Aren’t these donuts good, kids?”
Fannie and Freddie clap their hands while taking big bites of chocolate donut, getting frosting smeared all over their chubby faces. But Harlow stares at me again.
She notes, “Your hair is wet, Jane. Didn’t you just say you came in from the airport?”
“Yeah, um, but I felt a little dirty after all that car trouble, so I stepped into the shower.”
Harlow nods and squints. “Okay.” But then she turns to her dad. “But Daddy, didn’t you have a meeting in Boston on Monday? You were going to fly out right?”
Oh shit! What do we say now? But fortunately, Brent’s quick on his feet.
“Yes, honey, but I got a call that the meeting was called off. That’s why I was on my way to the airport when I saw Jane by the side of the road. Everything worked out.”
Harlow merely nods again.
“What a weird coincidence,” she remarks casually.
I start to freak out, but try to keep it inside.
“So what brings you here, Har?” I ask casually, biting into another donut. “Is everything good?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I’ve been texting you for the last twenty minutes to let you know. I want to borrow your leather jacket. Dad, can you keep an eye on the kids?”
“Of course,” Brent smiles, holding a hand out to the kids. “Come on Frannie and Freddie. Who wants to play a game of chicken?”
The kids squeal as Harlow takes my hand and drags me into my bedroom before shutting the door. Then she pins me with a look.
“What is going on? For real this time?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harlow.”
“I’m getting the same feeling I had before my parents finally told me they were getting a divorce. What is happening? Are you two planning something?”
“What would we be planning? You sound paranoid. My car broke down, that’s all.”
But Harlow won’t let it go.
“Oh my god! You are planning something! You know I hate surprise birthday parties, Jane, please don’t.”
This is a golden opportunity to divert the conversation because her birthday is a month away, and I can run with this. I start to giggle. “You mean you don’t want to relive your thirteenth birthday party, where you peed yourself when everyone shouted, ‘Surprise’?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Please, don’t even start. But yeah, my dad has been really secretive lately and if this is why,” she shakes her head, “Then fine. It’s better than anything my imagination has been cooking up. But I still hate surprise parties.”
I smile.
“Har, just know that if we are planning a surprise party, then I couldn’t possibly tell you any details about it. Also, if we were, what would you want at your surprise party?”
She grins, “A really nice meal—”
“So, nothing I make, got it.”
She laughs.
“Exactly. Maybe at a nice restaurant, with the women from my book club, and some other friends. Nothing too fancy, though. And it doesn’t even need to have alcohol.”
“What? No alcohol? What are you talking about?”
Harlow gets a secretive look on her face.
“It’s the real reason I want to talk to you in here away from my dad. Remember how I said I can’t lose weight no matter what I do?”
I gasp with worry.
“Harlow, are you alright? Is it your thyroid? Lots of ladies struggle with their weight when they have thyroid problems.”
She rolls her eyes.
“It’s not my thyroid. But promise not to tell, okay?”
I nod.
“I’m pregnant!”
I squeal excitedly and hug her. “Oh my god, this is a good thing, right?”
She lets out a rueful sigh.
“Yes, Gray and I are very happy about it. He never thought he’d be a father of three, but that’s what you get for marrying a younger woman. But that’s also why I keep trying to get Dad to come over for supper. So we can tell him! But I can never seem to get a hold of him, and then he’s here, planning my birthday party. It’s just so weird.”
I smile reassuringly.
“Want me to drop hints that he should do supper with you soon?”
She nods. “Just don’t tell him why, okay?”
“Consider it a done, Har. Happy to be of service.”
She hugs me.
“Thank you and thank you for the birthday party in advance, too. If my dad plans my surprise party by himself, it’ll be another clown and puppet show.”
“Not on my watch.”
She grins but then
it turns upside down.
“In other news, my mom been calling me today.”
I don’t know what to say. “Um, is Catherine okay?”
Harlow shakes her head, “She sounds weird. She kept going on about how she should have never left my dad and that we should be a family again. Both my parents are being weird at the same time. But at least Dad is just trying to be a good father and surprise me. Mom is being her self-indulgent prissy self again,” she sighs.
“So, then they’re not being weird, right? He’s a good guy, and she’s the evil queen we all hate,” I say.
She laughs, “Yeah, I guess so. Catherine will always be Catherine.”
Suddenly, we jolt as a loud thump sounds through the wall. I laugh.
“Best get out there before Fannie and Freddie tear down the place, right?” I hand her my leather jacket for her cover story, and we rejoin the family in my living room. Brent looks like he’s having a great time as the kids jump all over the furniture, their smiles filled with glee.
I give a gentle head shake and he grins at us.
“Everything okay, Har?”
“Yeah, everything’s great,” his daughter answers. Then she turns to me. “I’ll return your jacket later in the week, okay?”
“Sounds good. Oh my god, are the kids full of sugar and caffeine?”
Brent laughs.
“Just sugar. No caffeine needed for these two.”
“Perfect, just perfect,” Harlow sighs. “Come on, kids.”
Of course, Fannie and Freddie don’t listen. Then jump around more, screaming and hollering, until finally all three of us corral them and get them out the door. Brent dotes on his grandkids, and as the door closes, he turns to me with a smile.
“So does she suspect?”
I shake my head.
“Nope because she thinks we’re in cahoots about a surprise birthday party for her. And now, we are planning her surprise birthday party for next month.”
Brent grins and laughs. “That’s what she thinks we’re doing?”
“Yup.”
“Good thinking,” he growls before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “By the way, what did you think of the kids?” he asks casually, leaning back on the couch once more. His tone and posture are relaxed, but I sense something in the air. I smile.
My Bestie’s Dad: A Forbidden Romance Page 5
