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“Youare on Instagram now?” Shawn asked me, raising his eyebrows. “Since when? I thought you hated all social media. You went on old man rants about how it’s rotting our brains and you’d rather put rotten lemon juice in your eyes than ever look at it—”
“Fuck,ew,” Charlie protested, grimacing.
“I do hate social media,” I said, shifting on my seat, “but I figured since we’re working with Kace it would be good to, uh, know him a little better.”
Or get to watch him make protein smoothies shirtless on his back deck in the sun every day.
“Damn,” Shawn said, grinning. “The power of Kace Tomlin. I seem to recall you also saying that if you ever downloaded those apps, we should force you to swim naked down Jade River withI’m a fucking sheepwritten on your body in Sharpie—”
“I’ve said a lot of dumb shit, okay, Shawn?” I protested, tossing back the rest of my beer to hide my smile.
“How things change,” Charlie said, giggling at Shawn.
Things sure as shit changed, alright. Like going from being my normal self, marching through life knowing that I was a good father, a good worker, and certainly,definitelystraight—then having a 22-year-old with dimples bring that all to a screeching halt.
I pulled out my phone, navigating to my texts with Maddy. She was coming over later tonight to stay at my place for the weekend. She’d been at her mom’s house today, but I still tried to check in as often as I could.
>>Nathan: How’d the history exam go, Mads?
My daughter texted back in about two seconds flat, as was her usual speed.
>>Maddy: It sucked. But I got a 90.
>>Nathan: That’s awesome. Who says you’re not a history buff?
She sent me back a shrugging emoji.
>>Nathan: Anyway. See you in a couple of hours, kiddo.
>>Maddy: Later, Dad.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, looking back at our texts.
“What’s up?” I heard from beside me, and was shocked when I looked up to see Kace himself, who’d appeared at the edge of our table, holding a pint of beer. He looked radiant after the attention bath he’d just been soaking in.
“Oh,” I said, wishing I wasn’t still so dazzled every time I had his crystalline eyes on mine. “Nothing. I just realized I called my daughter ‘kiddo’ again, forgetting that she hates it now.”
Kace slid onto the booth next to me, and I tried to ignore how good his thigh felt pressed up near mine on the seat.
He glanced over at my phone. “How old is she again?”
“Fifteen. She told me that if I keep calling her kiddo now, I’ll still be doing it when she’s thirty-five years old. I asked what was wrong with that, and she just had two words for me.”
“Did she tell you to fuck off?” Kace said. “Kids say wild shit.”
“God, no,” I said. “Maddy’s a good kid. She saidthat’s cringe.”
Kace smiled sympathetically. “I remember my phase of saying that when I was young.”
“Excuse me?” I protested. “When you were ‘young?’ You mean about two minutes ago?”
“Like twoyearsago,” he told me, shoving me gently with the side of his body. “Come on, boss. I’m young, but I’m not that young.”
I knew I couldn’t convince him that he was still so fucking young that I’d pay way too much money just to liveone monthat his age again. I gave him a little shove back, then looked over to see that the TV crew had positioned themselves right at the edge of the table, filming all four of us.
Instinctually, I put a few inches of space between me and Kace on the booth seat. “Didn’t realize the crew was there,” I said.
“Is that okay?” Kace said. “I say the word, and they quit filming.”
