My Dad's Bossy Friend

The way he holds himself is powerful. He isn't walking with his shoulders down or his head hanging low. He's taking strides as if the road is built for him, and it's sexy as hell.

I can't take my eyes off him. I'm walking blindly, letting him pull me along, leading us back. All my steps mirror his, and I'm happy to have him holding me so strongly, because I'm lost in him.

He stops at the crosswalk, and I finally pull my gaze off him long enough to see exactly where we are. My head happily swings forward, eyes shifting and focusing on the little beach house up the street.

The crosswalk sign changes, Kent takes the first step, and I readily follow with nothing weighing me down. He looks down at me and smiles, and I smile back. But as I turn my face forward, my heart suddenly jumps in my chest, and my lungs turn into blocks of ice.

Shit. . . No. No. No.

Slowing my feet to a stop, I quickly shake my hand free from his, and begin to rub my palms back and forth over each other. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. . .” My voice trails off as my eyes expand, and I look up at Kent.

“What's wrong?” he asks.

“Look who decided to come check up on me already.” Throwing out my arm, I shake my head side to side. “This is ridiculous, it's barely been one day. Does he really have this little faith in me?”

“Why don't you go see what he's here for first, before you jump to any conclusions?” He nods his head confidently for me to follow him.

“Yeah, right, we both know my dad, and there's no doubt why he's here.”

“See this is the problem with people your age, you automatically jump to the worst case scenario. Maybe it's not what you think.”

“Mm, I doubt it.”

Kent starts walking forward, urging me along. “Hey, you want to be his property manager, this comes with the job. You had to know that.”

Dragging my feet, I groan and let my head fall back. “Easy for you to say. You haven't dealt with him your whole life. Plus, he respects you, which is not how he feels about me.”

“He'll respect you too, but you have to show him you're not afraid of him. It's called confidence, Perri.”

The way he says it makes me stop and question myself. Maybe he's right, maybe I've been too timid, too easily swayed in my stance, a push over to my father. I've never really challenged him, but maybe I should.

Am I ready for that?

I stop at the edge of the driveway and let out a soft breath. I can feel the sweat as it beads on my forehead, and my stomach as it drops in my gut. I'm not sure I'm ready for this type of confrontation.

Kent reaches the door first and pushes it open. He takes a step inside and I reluctantly follow behind him. My father is standing in the center of the room, facing the sliding glass door and looking out at the water.

“Bryce, I wasn't expecting you. You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have been here with whiskey and sushi.” Kent chuckles as he says it, and it sounds like he's trying to evoke a more pleasant response.

I'm now questioning how well he actually knows my father, and I don't think it's as well as I thought. Because I can tell immediately from my father's stance that he's not happy.

“What happened to the living room?” he asks, an edge of annoyance in his voice. I can hear it. It's unmistakable; his tone dry, callous, borderline insulting.

“What happened is,” Kent says with no fear, “your daughter made it better.” He takes a step to the side, offering me up to my father. “Tell him what you told me about the flow of the room, and the centerpiece it should focus on.”

My father ticks his head over his shoulder, the rest of his body following slowly. His eyes burn with his signature angry glare. One brow is arching high, his pupils are overtaking his eyes, his bottom lip is slightly folded over, and his jaw is crooking to one side.

I'm tempted to look down and away, to shyly lower and remove myself from the conversation altogether.

“Is that right, Perrin?” I cringe at his tone. He only calls me by my full name when he wants to make me uncomfortable. “Did you make things better like Kent says?”

I look at Kent briefly, and he gives me secure nod. Tipping my chin higher, I say, “Yeah, I did. I tried to, at least.” I hold steady, taking a step forward, and letting my eyes drift around the room. “When I got here and came inside, the room didn't focus on what it should. The view here is incredible, and it was lost to poor decoration. The room felt stuffy. Just a few small changes here and there opened it all up, gave the room a breezy flow.”

My father turns back to the view and folds his arms over his chest as he spreads his feet shoulder width apart. It looks like he's trying to shoot down the view, like if he stands taller, the view I've created will suddenly vanish as if it never existed.

“I have to say, Dean, she really knows how to work a room.” Kent comes to my side and sneakily teases my shoulders with the tips of his fingers. He rubs them, gently massaging with erotic strokes.

Slapping his hand away, he looks down at me with a grin. I step to the side, putting some space between us.

“I just thought,” I say, trying to offer up an explanation, “that since most of our renters will be here on vacation, that we should give them an experience they won't forget. A lot goes into staging each room to maximize—”

“Staging, Perri? Really?” My father looks back at me sharply, shaking his head and then facing forward. “No one cares about staging or lighting or any of that nonsense.” His voice stalls, and he lets out a heavy breath, like he's tired of having this conversation with me. “They're not here for any of that. They're for the theme parks and the board walk, the restaurants. Experience outside these walls. This is merely a place for them to sleep.”

“And the ocean,” I quickly add, trying to hold my stance. “The beach draws millions of tourists to Florida each year, so let's maximize what we have to sell. I mean, look at that view, Dad, it's an attraction in itself.”

“She's right, Dean,” Kent says, backing me up. “That view is what's going to make you money.”

My father spins around quickly, stalking to the counter, and running his finger across the top. “The pool looks green, I thought you were on that?”

“I was—”

“Was?” he asks.

Stop doing that!

“Yes, I'm on it. I added the chemicals this morning, it'll take a day or so to be fully clear, but no more than that.”

“A day,” scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “A day is still too long, Perrin. The pool company I normally use gets it done in hours.”

“Yeah, and you're paying all that money for something I can do for half the cost, so what if it takes a little longer? Is that really a big deal?”

“Longer equals losing money.” His favorite tactic to get me to concede. “We're in the business of making money, not giving it away as charity. Have you retained anything I taught you? Have you ever listened to a word I've said?”

“Dean,” Kent cuts in, stepping to his side, and setting a hand on his shoulder. “Let's go talk outside.” He looks back at me, and the small smile he gives is comforting.

My father reluctantly agrees with a deep grunt, and walks with Kent to the doors. They step through and Kent slides the doors closed behind them, but my father doesn't even give me a second look. His head is forward, steadfast in whatever he's thinking.

I can see their lips moving as they go back and forth. Each of them taking a turn, hands moving, faces stern, but lacking any significant level of emotion. I'm not sure who, if anyone, is winning the argument. I can’t hear anything they’re saying.

My father is speaking, and he turns his head to look out at the water. Kent takes the opportunity to look at me through the glass and wink. He smirks, even blowing me a little kiss, while my father remains unaware.

What if he tells him?

Oh God. . . I clutch my chest at the idea of Kent telling my father he had sex with me, maybe he even points out where in the yard we

were.

My stomach twists like corded rope, and vomit rises to the back of my throat. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Covering my mouth, I swallow hard. No, he wouldn't do that.

Kent wouldn't tell him what happened between us, it would not only destroy my chances of ever moving up the family corporate ladder, it would destroy the partnership between both men.

It's a stupid thought. And I refuse to let it take root. It would be terrible for both of us. He's smart enough to recognize the risk for both of us. However unlikely it is, though, it makes me realize what a dangerous situation I’ve put myself in. Just twenty-four hours ago my biggest priority was proving myself to my father, and now I’m here, on the inside looking out, worrying about my father finding out I’ve slept with his business partner.

Kent slaps my dad on the back, and they walk around the pool, moving to the front yard. Looking out the door, they shake hands, and my dad climbs into his car and backs out of the driveway.

Kent watches him leave, staying a few extra seconds waving after his retreating car as my father's taillights grow smaller in the distance. He comes back inside and closes the door behind him. “We should be good for a bit,” he says. “I don't think we'll see him for a little while.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that. My father doesn't take orders from anyone.”

“I've got the magic touch, I guess.” Kent stalks forward, wrapping both his hands around my waist and pulling me in. His hands slip down my ass, and pull me in closer. “He can be persuaded when you project confidence and power, Perri. You should try it.”