Page 9 of Fake Daddy

“Oh, right, uhm.”

He chuckles as I shift nervously.

“No is a full sentence. I would accept that. I’d hate it, but I’d listen.” He stalks towards me as he speaks.

“You would?”

He nods, and I reach forward, poking his chest.

“Why are you poking me?”

I do it again in another spot. “Just making sure you’re real.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard a man say and understand that no is a full sentence and means what it means.”

Reaching forward, he brushes his fingers along my jaw before wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. “I’m sorry you’ve had that experience. I promise to always listen to what you want or need.”

He lowers his head and hovers over my lips. I feel his warm breath and want what he’s offering, so I push up on my toes to meet his mouth, and my body instantly falls into him, trusting Cort in a way I haven’t any other man. My heart speeds up until my ears ring, and my skin tingles like I’ve been electrified. His free hand circles my waist; his fingertips are featherlight and tickle my flesh as he moves them from hip to hip. The touch is hypnotic and soothing, and I forget where we are as his tongue plunges past my lips to dip into my mouth.

Cort isn’t in a rush. He touches me sweetly, exploring every inch I allow and doesn’t push for me to give more than I’m ready to.

When we part to breathe, I stare into his dark green eyes, loving how he expresses his feelings towards me. I nod my head and silently agree to go out with him.

Dipping down, he steals another kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip until it feels bruised and swollen. “I’ll follow you home,” he says.

Ohhh, I know he’ll hate what I’m about to say. “I walk to work.”

His brows furrow, and the heat in his eyes is replaced with concern. “You walk. That’s not safe.”

“I don’t live far.” It’s less than a kilometre. I even point in the direction I’d been heading when I walked out of the salon.

His hold on me tightens. “Not safe,” he grunts. “You need to change or drop anything off?”

“No, not really.”

Leading me to his truck, he waits for me to get in before buckling me in and slamming the door shut. As he slides into his seat, I can’t help but study the way his hands flex on the steering wheel of the truck. Muscles and veins pop and roll in his hands and arms, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I was extremely attracted to it.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he takes a left out of the parking lot and travels towards the edge of town.

“It’s nice out, so I thought Elk Island Park. I brought some food.” He nods to the basket in the backseat. “We’ll sit in the back, watch the buffalo if they’re out, see some stars.”

“That sounds…romantic.” I’m unsure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I’ve been on a few dates since I turned fourteen, but no one has taken the care that Cort has. It’s likely because of his age. “Oh god,” I whisper, but he hears me.

“What? What’s wrong?” His head turns back and forth to glance at me and back to the road.

“This can’t be right, can it? You were my stepdad for a hot minute… And our age difference. Ohmygod! My Dad. He’s going to object. And the boys? They won’t be happy about this. Mary won’t be. She’ll hate me. Ohmygod.” The panic seizing me is familiar in its appearance but frightful in its intensity.

Leaning forward, I tuck my head between my legs, close my eyes, and focus on my breathing. I hear Cort speaking, but it sounds like he’s a million miles away, and I don’t understand a word of it. His gently massaging hand on the back of my head draws me out of the spiral. I’m unaware of how long my freakout lasted, and as I finally regain my senses, I realize we’ve stopped, and Cort is now standing in my open door.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, and his face is filled with concern.

“Getting there,” I croak as he helps me out and leads me to the back of his truck, where he rolls up the cover and underneath is a pillowy paradise. “I love pillows,” I mutter stupidly.

There’s a thick, padded bed in the bottom, covered in more blankets than I’ve ever encountered in one space, and dozens of pillows he builds up at the back, near the truck window. Once he’s done, he jumps down, reaches into the backseat of the truck, places the basket in the middle of the makeshift bed, and then takes off my ankle boots and helps me get situated before settling in beside me.

As he hands me a bowl of chicken and strawberry ranch salad, he takes one for himself, and we eat in peace before he begins talking. “Can I address some of your concerns now?” I swallow roughly before agreeing. “The boys know. Tyler called me out after their appointment on Saturday. Evan figured it out tonight. Neither of them cares, and both are encouraging me to pursue you.”

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