My Dad's Bossy Friend

He shakes his head no, and grips the outside of the door. “Nope, ladies first,” he says.

Stepping into the living room, I turn and take a few steps backwards. “Welcome to your home away from home.” Spinning back around, I take a moment to check it out myself.

When a new property is being renovated, my father never lets me near it. He always says I get in the way, or I'll distract the workers because I ask too many questions.

According to him, all I need are bullet points to do this job. I don't need to be hands on. Hell, I don’t even need to think

I have my cheat sheet from dad. A single piece of paper with everything I need to know about this house. With this paper, and this paper alone, Dad told me, I have everything I need to make sure the tenant is happy and I can do this job the way it ought to be done.

“I think this will do,” Kent says as he walks past the island that separates the kitchen from the living room. He raps his knuckles on it as a sign of approval. “Actually, I can probably get used to this pretty quickly.” He chuckles jokingly as he explores the space.

He pulls back the curtains on the sliding doors in the kitchen, and stands in front with his hands on the back of his head. “Wow.” That’s the only word he says as he stares out at the water, a beautiful sparkling blue expanse that goes on forever.

My heart pounds in my chest as his biceps flex and his muscles tighten in a rippling wave down his back. His eyes are set on the ocean, and my eyes are on his ass. Sucking in a quick gulp of air, I dart my eyes away quickly as he twists back to face me.

“I should probably bring in my stuff. Settle in.”

“Let me help,” I say, taking a step to follow him outside.

“No, it's all right. I’ve got it. Just relax. Enjoy the view, maybe jot down the WIFI password for me on that notepad over there?” He nudges his head toward the small table against the wall.

Kent walks out the door, and I take the opportunity to look over the house. It's a one bedroom bungalow, perfect for a single guy like Kent. The beach is a stone’s throw away, there's an in-ground pool in the spacious backyard, and the view goes on forever with the miles of ocean. It really is perfect.

As I look around the room, I realize that whoever my father brought in to decorate did a terrible job. The way the furniture is placed breaks up the flow of the house, making it sort of an obstacle course. It doesn't work. The couch is pushed up against the wall, the kitchen table is stuck off in a nook away from the amazing view. There's a small table blocking one of the sliding glass doors, too. The only way you get any real view of the ocean from inside the house is if you're standing right in front of the doors.

Why did they set it up like this?

It doesn't make any sense.

Staring at the furniture, I can see in my head a way to really create that flow, to give you a seamless view of the water no matter where you are.

Grabbing the edge of the table, I start to pull it across the room. The legs drag, creating a loud noise. Stopping in the middle of the room, I move over to the couch and push it aside. Rearranging the furniture is going to make this place so much better.

I'm lost in design, carrying chairs, dragging tables, adjusting throw rugs. I want this place to feel open and airy. Most of all, wherever you sit in the living spaces, you should be able to see the amazing view. That’s why he bought this place, after all.

“What are you doing?” Kent asks as he drops a suitcase and a backpack on the floor.

“I'm fixing this place for you,” I say matter of fact. Taking a step back to the front door, I look out at the space. “I just need to move this couch over here a little more, and you'll have a view of the ocean no matter where you sit.”

Kent leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. “So, you figured this all out in the ten minutes I was outside?”

“Yeah, basically. Why?”

Shrugging, his mouth raises into a partial grin. “It's impressive.”

“Thanks.” I'm a little uncertain about what he means exactly, but it's a compliment. I don't get many compliments that are genuine, so I'll take it.

“You don't agree?” he asks, moving across the room.

I watch him as he walks. His hard chest more than I can stand at the moment. I can't take both at the same time, a compliment and his sexy body. It's too much. My heart pitter-patters and my skin begins to heat up.

He leans over, resting open hands on the arm of the couch. Lifting his head, his eyes zero in on mine, and I'm suddenly at a loss for the words.

Those eyes. . . They're so blue. Cobalt in color, bright as the ocean, and piercing enough to send chills down my spine.

Glancing up at the ceiling, I fumble with my hands in front of my waist. “I don't know, I guess I never thought about designing or decorating as a talent.”

“Well, you should, you're good at it.” His eyes drift down my body, devouring every curve along the way. Biting down on his bottom lip, he lets his gaze slowly lick back up.

Is he flirting with me?

Pushing the couch for me, he centers it with the throw rug I’d rearranged, so it faces the double sliding doors. “Here?”

I'm lost for a second, unable to latch on to any thoughts or words. He definitely just flirted with me. Right?

“Uh, yeah, that's perfect,” I finally get out.

“It really is.” But Kent isn't looking at the ocean, or the furniture, or the paintings on the walls. He's looking at me.

My belly erupts with a million tornadoes, all of them turning my stomach upside down. The hair on my arms bristles, sending tingles up my arms and across my chest.

“I uh, I should go,” I say quickly, taking a few steps toward the door. “I'll let you get settled, and if you need anything, I put my number on the notepad for you.”

“Where are you staying?” he asks. “You're not heading home from here are you? It's a two hour drive.”

“Oh, no, I'm staying in another rental my dad has. It's the condo up on River Street.” I'm still walking backwards, trying to escape whatever is happening to my body.

This is Kent. My father's friend, his business partner. Everything that is happening to me is wrong. He's twice my age, he's too close to my family to have these feelings, he's off limits. . .

Right?

Kent starts to move toward me, but all I really want to do is to leave. The closer he gets, the dirtier the thoughts are that run through my head. Thoughts that shouldn't be here. Thoughts that shouldn't be for him.

“So we’re all set,” I say, giving him a light wave. “I'll see you later, enjoy your night. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I will.” His tone is smooth, confident. “Same goes for you, too.” He gives me a light wink, and a half smile.

Turning, I swiftly walk to my car and start the engine before I even have my door closed all the way.

These feelings, these thoughts, they're freaking me out. The drive to the condo is only ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity as confused thoughts race through my mind. Once I arrive at my temporary home, I'm happy to shut the door behind me. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in.

I can still feel his eyes on my body. Those bright, blue, incredible eyes that si

zzle on my skin. Dropping onto the couch, I lay my head back and close my eyes. But he's still there. I can't escape Kent.

His smile, his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw. The way his chest flexed as he moved, and his arms thickened with hard muscles. Even his salt and pepper hair, and his five o'clock shadow turn me on.

I've always had a thing for older men. But this isn't fair, he's my father's partner and friend. The taboo feeling of it being wrong is hard to ignore, but my body is resisting the rational.

My vag is pulsing, my nipples are beading, all because this man is in my head. “All right,” I say out loud, opening my eyes wide and standing up. “I need a glass of wine.”

Grabbing a bottle out of the rack next to the stove, I fill a glass, and head back to the couch. My phone pings, and I lift it off the table. Opening the screen, I see a message from a number I don't recognize.

'Did you make it home okay?'

It's Kent.

My thumb hovers over the buttons, and a small smile teases my lips. 'Yeah, I'm home.'

'Good, I'm enjoying the view from the couch. You really improved the place.'

My smile broadens, pleased that he's thinking about me. There's a thrill with this thought, knowing I'm on his mind, that he's sitting on the couch and I'm in his head.

'I'm glad you like it.' I text back. My heart thuds faster, and my veins ignite as I see the small circles rotating on my screen.

He's writing back, and the anticipation is making me giddy. Curling my feet up, I tuck them under each other, and snuggle deeper into the couch. I'm staring at the screen, anxiously waiting to see what he writes next.

'Will I see you tomorrow?'

'Yes, I'll be around.'

'It's a date then.'

'No, not a date. I have work to do.' Luckily he can’t see the smile on my face which belies that I am not thinking about work. I love the idea of a date, but obviously it isn't happening.

'Right, that's what I said. A date.'

Grinning, I fire back. ‘Okay, if it's a date, what are you planning?'