Page 18 of Campus Daddies

“It was a sixty-seven Mustang… his graduation present.” I shrug. “Shouldn’t have cheated on Shelby with that cheerleader skank after prom and it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“Love it when women band together. Female power!” Jordan shoots her fist into the air.

We’re giggling to ourselves as we enter the small bakery on the edge of campus. And even though it’s late, they still have a slice of red velvet. Yes, please!

When we sit, Jordan asks, “So, besides pole dancing, what do you have on that list of yours to try out?”

“So many things, but the ones I’ve narrowed it down to are yoga, origami, cooking classes, pottery, crochet, and painting, which I already have an awesome eleven-year-old tutor for.” The mention of Birdie must have spontaneously manifested her father because the door chime swivels my attention to that broad chest and broader shoulders.

“Oh, my God. Mmm.” I turn to see if Jordan has finally taken her first bite of cake, but no, she’s ogling Braxton as he strides to the counter. I get it. Not only is he big and broad, but he’s handsome, too, with his short-cropped beard sprinkled withonly a little bit of gray. His eyes are kind. And those tattoos down his exposed forearms give him complexity.

Bad boy, lumberjack professor? I mean, come on. I’m not blind.

When he turns to see me, he offers me a smile, pays, and heads over to our table.

“Out for a late-night snack?” I ask. “Care to join us?”

His almost silent laugh is music to my ears. “No. Birdie had a rough day, so I’m grabbing her a treat before heading home. I’m glad I caught you, though. Are you free this Sunday to babysit?”

I perk up at this. “Yes. Absolutely. So long as you don’t mind Noah coming with me.”

“I don’t mind at all. I won’t be out of the house, but I thought it might be good for Birdie to spend some more time with you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. You made an impression.” The small curve at the corner of his mouth warms me up with pride.

“She made an impression on me, too. I would love to spend time with her.”

“Good. Thank you.” Braxton turns back to the counter when they call his name. “I’ll see you then.”

Braxton picks up the small triangular box of cake and heads for the door. He’s not quite out of it when Jordan says, “God, I’d let a man that sexy toss me over his shoulder.”

Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. “Shut up. That’s my dad’s friend.”

The door finally closes behind him, but I swear I saw a hitch in his step. Oh, no, what if he heard her?

“I wish my dad had friends who were that good-looking. Mmm, mmm.”

9

BRAXTON

Iswallow hard as I hear Sofia’s friend call me sexy, and I blush harder than I have since I was a teenager. The heat doesn’t dissipate as I imagine throwing Sofia over my shoulder, carrying her up my stairs, and tossing her onto my bed.

Fuck, it’s idiotic to let myself fall down that rabbit hole. Again.

Even if I’ve had to yank myself back from thinking about her creamy skin and what it would taste like for the last four days without reprieve.

I’m a bad friend. A really fucking bad friend. I hear her say, “Shut up. He’s my dad’s friend.”

It’s all in my head, the tension I feel when I’m around her. It has to be. Nothing can come of this attraction, especially when it’s one-sided.

This sucks. I haven’t really thought about another woman since Bethany left. Not like this. Not for longer than taking myself in my hand and finding some kind of relief.

No, I spend too much time being a single dad. Worrying over how Birdie might react if I went on a date. If I brought somebody home. If she witnessed me moving on in any way.

Not that I’m hung up on Bethany. I gave up on waiting for her to come home before the first year mark hit. But I’m not sure whether Birdie has.

She’s the reason I haven’t filed for divorce. I can, legally, for abandonment, but I don’t want to do that to Birdie until she’s ready.

I’ve settled myself by the time I make it home, sitting with Birdie on the couch until bedtime and keeping my thoughts diverted until they swarm me in bed. I let myself swim in the fantasy of Sofia’s hands smoothing over my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, until she takes a hold of me. Her mouth is a sweet, hot beacon as she plants kisses along my flesh.

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