Page 21 of Her Possessive Daddies

"The speakeasy."

"Our speakeasy? Please tell me she's not an employee."

The silence stretches between us.

"Christ, man."

"She's practically my son's age," I mutter, rubbing my temples. My leather chair creaks as I shift my weight. "Hell, she could've gone to school with him."

"And?" Seth lounges back, loosening his tie. "Last I checked, your son was spending daddy's money on tow truck fees and trashed hotel rooms, while this girl's working nights and going to school. Age is just a number, my friend."

My phone shows notifications again. I try not to check it.

"Silver foxes are in, haven't you heard?" His grin spreads wider. "Besides, not everyone his age is as..." He pauses, searching for the right word.

"Immature as fuck?"

"I was going to say 'developmentally challenged,' but yours works too." He stands, straightening his jacket. "Look, you're not exactly robbing the cradle here. She's an adult with a job and goals. When's the last time you met someone who actually interested you?"

The conference room feels suddenly too warm. I pull at my collar. "That's not the point."

"That's exactly the point. You've spent the last hour smiling at your phone like a fucking virgin. I…” He trails off, knowing better than to finish that thought. "Just don't overthink it."

"Too late." I reach for my phone, Abbie's last message still waiting for a response. "What if-"

"Nope." Seth snatches the phone from my hand. "No what-ifs. You like her. She's clearly into you. Stop making it complicated."

"Since when are you the voice of reason?"

"Since you started acting like a nervous freshman asking someone to prom." He tosses my phone back. "Now, are we done with this heart-to-heart? Because I've hit my emotional support quota for the month."

Seth drops back into his chair, propping his feet on the conference table. "So, what's she look like? Please tell me she's not another Karen type."

"Hell no." The image of Abbie tending bar floods my mind. "She's..." My fingers tap against the armrest, searching for words that won't sound completely lovesick. "She has this wild curly hair, dark brown. When she gets flustered, she tucks it behind her ear, but it never stays put."

"Ah shit, you're already gone, aren't you?"

"Her eyes are this impossible shade of hazel. They catch the light overhead and..." I trail off, catching Seth's smirk. "What?"

"Nothing. Please, continue waxing poetic about her eyes."

"Fuck off." I loosen my tie. "She's got curves that make me forget how to form complete sentences. And when she smiles..." I shake my head. "It's not just physical though. She's smart. Working on her psychology degree. Has this dry wit that catches me off guard."

"Sounds like someone's finally met their match in the sass department."

"The other night, she told this drunk frat boy who wouldn't leave her alone that she'd already met her quota for psychoanalyzing daddy issues for the evening."

Seth barks out a laugh. "I like her already."

"She's... different. Real. No pretense, no agenda. Just trying to make it through school and build something for herself."

"Jesus." Seth kicks his feet off the table. “You’re being ridiculous and over the top. When are you seeing her again?"

"Saturday. She's working."

"You mean you're going to creep on her and pretend you're just there to check on business?"

"Something like that."

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