Page 22 of Yes, Coach

Two fucking days since our conversation in my kitchen, and I've barely gotten five minutes alone with her. Yesterday she had to rush home from school because her mom was having a bad breathing day. She was supposed to be staying at my place again, but her mom needed her. I might be a fucking monster, but for her I’ll do anything. She stopped by this morning, but could only stay for coffee because she had to cover someone's shift at the diner.

I'm going out of my goddamn mind.

Which is why, when she texted me an hour ago saying her mom was finally stable and she had the whole night free, I didn't hesitate. Told her to pack an overnight bag and prepare for themagical mystery tour, a reference she didn’t get because she’s so damn young. Hell, it’s a referenceIshouldn’t get.

Now she's in my truck, smoothing the skirt of the dress she just put on at my house.

"You sure this isn't too much?" Taryn asks, voice low as she tugs at the hem. The fabric catches the light—deep red silk that clings in all the right places. She looks like something out of a dream.

My fucking wet dream, to be precise.

I glance over, take her in, and my chest tightens. "Too much? Hell no. If anything, it’s not enough."

She bites her lip, looking down at herself like she doesn't quite believe she belongs in something this nice.

"You look incredible," I say. "You could wear a garbage bag and still stop traffic, but this... this is how you should be dressed. Like a damn queen."

Her cheeks go pink. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, like she's trying to make herself smaller. "It just... it feels like a lot. I mean, this dress probably cost more than my mom’s rent."

"Doesn’t matter what it cost." I reach over, hook my finger under her chin until she meets my eyes. "You deserve this. You deserve better than you’ve been given."

She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away.

"Let me do this for you, Taryn," I say, softer now. "Let me take you out. Properly."

A slow smile breaks across her face. She nods. "Okay. Just... don’t be surprised if I trip in these thousand-dollar heels."

"I'll always be there to catch you."

I grab her wrist and pull her closer, my voice dropping to a growl. "And everyone's gonna be wondering why that distinguished gentleman is groping a little girl like she's his personal sex toy."

The crude words make her breath catch, her pupils dilating with arousal. "Let them wonder."

The plan is to take her somewhere nice, but far enough away from home we could be seen together without worrying about running into half the school board.

"Where are we going?"

"Trust me, baby. I have it all in hand."

"Mysterious Daddy," she says with a grin.

I can see her nipples harden beneath the smooth fabric of her dress. Classy enough for dinner, but with enough cleavage to make my mouth water.

"You look fucking incredible," I tell her, pulling away down the drive. "Good enough to eat."

"Best save some appetite for dinner, Daddy."

The restaurant is exactly what I hoped for. Old school Italian with dark wood paneling, red velvet banquettes, and the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to speak in hushed tones. We fit right in among the other well-dressed men and women, chatting quietly over expensive wine. The hostess shows us to a curved corner booth that's practically its own private room, and I slide in next to Taryn instead of across from her.

"This is nice," she says, looking around appreciatively. "Very... adult."

"You are an adult."

"I know. But this is the first time I've felt like one." She leans into me, her hand finding my thigh under the table. "Thank you for this."

"Thank you for what?"

"For wanting to show me off. For not being ashamed of what we are."

---