Page 10 of Daddy's Bad Girl
Emma flushes again, her hands fidgeting slightly, and this is the first hint that something’s off. I don’t think this woman’s being completely open about her course of study, and her body language gives it away.
“I’m majoring in Bio, and I like it okay,” she says while casting her gaze downwards. “I mean, it helps because I’ll be taking the MCAT soon.”
“The MCAT?” I ask, brows rising.
She flushes.
“Oh sorry. It’s the standardized exam that medical schools require for application. It covers the usual subjects, like physics, biochemistry, organic chemistry, and the like. It even has questions on psychology and sociology.”
“Really,” I drawl. “That’s bizarre.”
Emma shakes her head, smiling a bit.
“No, it makes sense because doctors interact a lot with patients. Not all doctors, mind you,” she says. “There are some medical doctors who focus on research, so they spend most of their time in the lab among test tubes and microscopes. But a lot of physicians still see patients, so understanding how to work with people, and how the practice of medicine shapes entire communities, is key.”
I nod, intrigued.
“Funny, I never thought of that,” I say. “I immediately assumed all doctors saw patients, but you’re right. Medical research is a huge field, especially since Covid. Goddamn, I fucking hated lockdown. Were you stuck in the dorms throughout that period, taking classes remotely?”
Emma flushes prettily.
“I was taking classes remotely, but I was in high school then,” she says with a smile. “I’m only twenty, remember? I went through part of high school during the Covid era.”
My dick twitches again.
“I’m sorry,” I chuckle in a rough voice, although I’m not actually sorry at all. “I keep forgetting because you come off as really mature. As you can see, I’m still suffering from Covid brain fog.”
“No, you’re not!” Emma replies with a playful smile. “Everyone thinks I’m older than I am because I’m so serious all the time. At least that’s what they tell me,” she quips.
“Really,” I growl. “How old do they think you are?”
Emma smiles sweetly, cocking her head at me.
“Usually, people think I’m twenty-five, but I’m not. Twenty-five is ancient!” she laughs. “Maybe I should be offended.”
“Not when you’re an old codger like me,” I growl with a humorous grin. “How old do you think I am?”
The beautiful blonde bites her lip as she studies me. I know what she sees: a huge man, with jet black hair brushed back, a square jaw, and bright blue eyes. I also work out like a motherfucker in my private gym each morning, so I’m muscular and fit. Still, some young women are terrible at estimating age, and Emma’s one of them. She studies me, taking in my chiseled features and sculpted physique.
“Thirty-five,” she says while tilting her head in the cutest way. “Am I right?”
I chuckle deep in my chest, genuinely amused.
“Not even in the ballpark because I’m forty-five, not thirty-five. But thanks for the compliment.”
A small hand flies up to her lips as her eyes go round.
“Really? Forty-five?”
“Yep, for sure,” I say with a grin while taking another sip of my drink. “I promise. I’ll even show you my driver’s license.”
“Oh no, no!” Emma protests with a sweet smile, waving her hands. “That’s not necessary. I believe you. You look way younger though.”
I grin, genuinely liking this girl although we’ve only chatted about ten minutes. She’s cute, and impishly sassy with a sparkle to her eye that I didn’t anticipate.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say with a wink. “Most dudes don’t mind looking older because it gives them an air of gravitas. Do you think I have that? Or do I need to work on it?”
Emma looks at me, blushing, and nods.
