Page 28 of His Father

I am so full of shit.

His eyes which held amusement are now blank and devoid of emotion. Or perhaps I’m not reading him well enough.

“My son seems to think otherwise, he warned me to keep Devon away from you. Said you’re not like other women and you put your heart into things.”

“Maddox doesn’t like it when I sleep around. He’s too much of a gentleman,” I respond, mumbling now. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Devon is your type?” I see his hands clench the steering wheel.

“I don’t have a type. If I want it, I take it.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It really is.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your parents must be so proud.”

What a condescending shit! “So must yours be!”

“Mine are in another state stewing over past arguments, they’re not anything.”

“Mine are dead, isn’t life a bitch?” I reply bitterly and cross my arms over my chest.

His lips pinch together and I see his regret immediately as he replies, “I’m sorry, Tempest. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine, I got over them a long time ago.” I look out of the window. “Can you stop talking to me now? I prefer your silence.”

Sargent

I’ve never been a particularly sensitive guy. I often miss compassionate social cues so it’s not surprising I’m sitting here beside her, silent as she asked. I don’t know what to say or do to rectify my mistake.

I didn’t know her parents were dead. I never asked about her family.

Maybe I should?

No. It’s none of my business. Just like her sex life isn’t any of my business.

I pull into the parking lot outside of Devon’s Shack which is a place where people can buy or rent all kinds of equipment for the beach. They also teach surfing, jet skiing, skating, etc.

I hate bringing her here. I should have offered her a job myself but she’d never take it and to be honest I don’t need her around me anymore than she already is. We would not work well together.

“You came!” Devon calls when we step into the shack, and she finally starts smiling. She’s never smiled at me like that, so happy and easy. I get a nagging hum in my chest but mentally lock it away. I don’t know what it was and I don’t care to know.

“You look beautiful, but if it’s okay, we have a uniform that all employees must wear.” Devon, without touching her, guides her to the staff rooms, passing other members who wave and smile curiously as we go.

He leads her to a rail of uniforms on the back wall which comprise of black T-shirts with the store logo and tight, Lycra cut-offs that stop below the knee. “At the end of each day you chuck them into the bin in the corner and we have them washed and ready for the next day. Write your name in the label and you won’t get mixed up.”

I watch her take her clothes into one of the few changing rooms and Dev claps me on the back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“Keep that in your pants or Maddox will make my life hell,” I hiss, pointing at his dick which is visible through his own Lycra cut-offs.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You sure Maddox is the only reason I should keep it to myself?”

My eyes narrow but he only laughs harder.

“I promise, unless she makes a move, I won’t touch her.”

“Even if she does, you won’t touch her,” I correct and his smile fades.

“Bit possessive there, Wolf. Want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about, so long as we’re clear.”

His smile returns but it’s menacing. “Like I said, you lay claim, I’m off that. You don’t, I’m on that should she wish it. I’m not pushing anything on her but I won’t say no if she offers. You’ve seen her, she’s sweet. I’d be a fool to say no.”

My jaw aches with how tightly it’s clenched. “If you make her uncomfortable…”

“Not my style, you know that. Don’t need to harass a woman to get in her pants. I can dot my I’s and cross my t’s. Not hard to know when a woman isn’t interested.”

She exits the changing room and I have to bite back a groan at those pants. They cover everything but also show everything.

“You sure don’t look like you’re not interested,” Devon mutters so only I hear. Then he twirls her under his arm. “Beautiful. Now, why don’t I show you the ropes and get you started?”

“Thanks for the ride,” she says to me, her tone quiet and sweet.

I hand her my business card because she doesn’t have my number. “Call me when you’re finished and I’ll pick you up or send somebody.”

That’s my guilt for bringing her dead parents into it shining through.

“It’s fine, I can handle it. I need to pick up those photos from you later anyway.”

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