Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)

“So you’re saying I can fuck a client as long as it’s not on a job site?” His brows quirk as he stares at me pointedly. How the hell did he take that away from what I just said?

“Mav, what the fuck! Are you kidding me?” I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated.

Carter cuts in, pointing the nail gun in my direction. “I told you, Mad, you can’t trust this walking hard-on around a set of tits.”

Mav smirks, laughing to himself.

“My old man is probably rolling over in his grave as we speak. This company was his life, man. These clients—most rely on Davenport Construction based on Dad’s name alone. Don’t fuck this shit up for me! I have a family, Mav, and we can’t lose business because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

“Dude, relax. She wasn’t a client,” Mav says, holding his hands up in defense. I exhale a breath. The stress of this job is gonna kill me.

“No, she was the client’s daughter,” Carter shouts over a roil of laughter.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head.

“Okay, I don’t wanna know any of the sordid details, so keep that shit to yourself. Can we get back on track so we can get this job done already? I’m missing the day with my kid to help you assholes.”

“You’re the boss,” Mav agrees, tossing a bottle of water in my direction. He kneels on the floor to help Carter frame in the island while I clean up the scrap wood and sawdust.

After the island is built, the crew will have to stain the wood and install the countertop which all should be done today.

“Y’all wanna cookout at my place tonight?”

“No can do. Gotta date with Marci Browning.” Mav winks. He dates so many different women, one—sometimes two—every night of the week, that all their names sound the same to me.

“Mad, you and Belle wanna come over? Laney and the girls are going out, so I figured we could have some beers and brats while I wait on their drunk asses to call for me to pick them up,” Carter asks.

“Jordan mentioned yesterday that they were all going out.”

“Yep. Disaster waiting to happen. It never fails, every time they go out, cops are called on the scene to the four of them being belligerent bitches.”

“Then why are you letting Laney go?” I ask. It seems a simple enough solution if they get that out of control.

“Are you kiddin’? Dude, you've gotta start datin’ soon. No damn clue about women.” What the hell did I say wrong? I look at him, confused. “I’m her husband, not her dad. If she wants to go out and have fun—I’m all for it. She always comes home to me at the end of the night. Or after I bail her crazy ass out of jail.”

Okay, we are not discussing my dating life, so I need to divert this conversation, quickly.

“Have Jordan and Laney been friends long?”

“Since high school, I guess,” Carter supplies.

“Jo went to Coastal?” Carter nods.

Interesting.

&n

bsp; “Why am I just meeting her? I never heard Laney talk about her before.”

“Because you’re married to your job and life as a dad.” Carter shrugs, as if I didn't already know. “And Laney talks about her all the time; you have probably heard plenty of stories about Jo.”

Ahhhh… Fuck—Jordan is Jo?

“I still can’t believe she’s your trainer.” Mav shakes his head, that cocky smirk ever present. “It must hurt like fuck to run the treadmill with a hard-on.”

Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth. But I don’t like Maverick talking about Jordan like that.

“Come on, Mav. Don’t disrespect Jordan.”