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Pushing back her tears, she wiped away the bit of wetness clinging to her eyelashes and turned on her heel to go back into the restaurant. She would get her meal, and tonight, she would start looking for a new job. Surely, there had to be something out there. Maybe even something better. Without a creepy manager.
Just keep telling yourself that.
Even the voice in her head sounded sarcastic.
Damian
The bus came to a stop right outside the trailer park’s entrance. The window above the sink in his trailer had a perfect view of both the entrance and the bus stop, which he liked because that meant he could keep track of who was coming into the neighborhood. His daughter called him a control freak, and she wasn’t wrong. But he had his reasons.
When he saw the young woman get off the bus, his shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his head back down to scrub the dish he was cleaning. Did it make sense he’d waited until hours after dinner to do his dishes? Not really. But a little soak never hurt anything. And it allowed him to keep an eye on the bus stop when Emily was due home.
His daughter’s best friend—as well as his former best friend’s daughter—he’d known Emily for most of her life. He watched out for her, the same way he did for his own daughter.
Not quite the same way.
A little muscle in his jaw popped as he clenched it and tried to push the lascivious thought out of his mind. At some point, Emily had grown up into a beautiful young woman, and well, Damian had turned into a dirty old man, lusting after a woman far too young for him. It was gross, dirty, perverted, and wrong, but he couldn’t get her out of his head.
While he might not be able to control his thoughts, he could control his actions. So, he kept his distance while also keeping an eye on her. Looking up again, he frowned when he saw the way she was clutching a bag to her chest. It couldn’t be that she was cold. The weather was balmy tonight, a little humid even, and she was wearing a short-sleeve shirt and pants that were perfectly appropriate.
With her long fall of hair half-covering her face, he couldn’t see much of her expression, especially in the streetlights. Frowning, he put down the dish he was washing and leaned forward, as if those few inches would make any real difference in what he could see.
The trailer she lived in, the one that technically still belonged to her parents, was a couple blocks past his. He didn’t worry once she was in the trailer park, though. She was safe here. Damian made sure to both know his neighbors and ensure they knew who he was. He avoided Emily’s trailer, but he felt assured no one was going to mess with her there.
They all watched out for each other.
As evidenced by the text that came through ten minutes later from Mrs. Martine, letting him know that Emily had gotten home. The older woman, who lived a little down the block from Emily, kept him updated. In return, he did odd handyman jobs for her, which meant he didn’t end up stalking Emily home every night. So, everyone was happy.
Then a second text came through—Mrs. Martine thought Emily looked upset.
Which confirmed what he’d thought. She would have gotten a better look at Emily than he’d managed. Frowning, he quickly finished washing his dishes and glanced at the clock. It wasn’t too late to call his daughter. Katrina had received her bachelor’s degree last year and decided to get to work on her master’s, which she was doing on the west coast, so she was three hours behind him and Emily.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Father.” The rolling way she said the formal greeting made it sound almost mocking. Damian rolled his eyes.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you? How’s school?” He couldn’t jump right into asking about Emily. Along with being way too young for him, he would never do anything to risk the girls’ relationship. If he’d still been friends with Emily’s father, he wouldn’t have done anything to risk that relationship, either, but Don had ruined their friendship all on his own.
Still, that wasn’t Emily’s fault.
Making the appropriate noises and nodding as his daughter regaled him with how well she was doing, Damian bided his time, keeping tight reins on his patience.
“How’s everything at home?” she finally asked him.
“Good, good. Work’s been good. All the shops have been good.” He owned several scattered throughout the county. Good mechanics were valued. In his own shop, his guys handled the day-to-day jobs while he focused on his specialty—restoring the classics. It was often both fun and frustrating work, as well as being lucrative. “I have a Ferrari coming in later this week that I’ll be restoring.” He didn’t bother giving her the specs. He knew she didn’t care about that. Sadly, his love of cars had not passed on to his daughter.
“Oh, fun.” Despite having no interest of her own, she did her best to sound enthused because she knew he was happy about it. Damian couldn’t help but grin. “How are Uncle Desmond and Uncle Braden?”
He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn’t see it. She always asked after her uncles.
“Uncle Braden’s doing great. Keeping busy.” In fact, he hadn’t seen his brother in a week or so. He should probably reach out and see if Braden wanted to do dinner.
“And Uncle Desmond?” Now, her voice had definitely taken on a teasing note.
“You’ve probably talked to him more recently than I have.” Which was a sad state of affairs but also the truth. Sometimes, brothers just didn’t get along. Though it would help if Desmond could pull the stick out of his ass. He cleared his throat. “So, speaking of people at home, have you heard from Emily lately?”
“Daaaaad.” Katrina drawled out the word, laden with complaint. “Please tell me you aren’t butting your nose into everyone’s business again.”
“It’s a simple question, Katrina.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Mrs. Martine texted me and said she thought Emily seemed upset when she came home tonight. I haven’t talked to her recently, but I thought maybe you had.”
