My Bestie's Dad

I have a good laugh at myself because I’m acting like such a nitwit. Brent loves how I look, even when it’s first thing in the morning. However, I’m still looking forward to seeing my gorgeous boyfriend and his offering of donuts. I scrub down, and then braid my wet hair like a Swiss milkmaid. It’s silly, but I like it. I change into my cleanest set of loungewear, and then put on a movie. But I’m not really watching because I’m just waiting for the Brent.

When I hear a knock, I dash to the door. There’s the handsome man, with a bag of donuts and a smile. He says, “Aloe, Gorgeous.”

I snort-laugh and ask, “Is that going to be a thing now? I feel like that’s going to be a thing.” I hold the door open for him and get to watch him from behind for a moment. “Wait, why are you in a suit? You don’t go to church.”

“I like to dress up when I fly.”

“Which reminds me, why were you at the airport this morning? I forget.”

He smiles.

“I no longer have to go to Boston for that big presentation. It’s not a big deal though. The smell of donuts made it worth showing up at the terminal. Just wait until you see what flavors I have.”

I open the box, then look at him.

“You’re a dirty, dirty boy.”

“You know better than most how true that is.”

I giggle and look at his paper cup of coffee. “Before we get to the donuts, would you like to transfer your coffee to a ceramic mug, or are you happy with your current cup?”

“I’d like ceramic, if you don’t mind, thanks,” he says while standing close to me. I smell his woody cologne and inhale deeply. It gets me every time. He peers over my shoulder, and at first, I think he’s looking at me pouring the coffee.

“Is this mug okay with you?” I ask, craning my head to look at him over my shoulder. I can’t figure out why he’s crowding me so close. It feels good because he’s big and warm, and makes me feel feminine by comparison. I definitely want to jump his bones, although Brent’s put a bit of a brake on that.

“Am I making you nervous?” he teases.

“Maybe.”

“I’m just busy appreciating your lack of a bra right now.”

I giggle and look down. Yep. No bra, and my girls look inviting in my sleep tank top. “I swear, that is not intentional. I just don’t usually wear one at home, so you get a show, I suppose.”

“I’m not complaining, Jane. Not at all,” he growls, those hazel eyes hot.

I turn around and hand him his coffee, “Well, with your whole old-fashioned take on things, I don’t want to send you the wrong message. These,” I point to my boobs, “are being unintentionally friendly. It’s out of my control.”

His gaze remains glued to my creamy orbs.

“You know my eyes are up here, right?”

“Yes, but your perfect breasts are not,” he says, not even bothering to look up.

I giggle. “You’re making me self-conscious.”

He smirks.

“We don’t want that. Time for donuts.”

“Time for a sweatshirt, is more like it.” I make a face at him.

“Whatever will make you comfortable in your own home, gorgeous. Be my guest.”

I pull a sweatshirt over my lounge camisole and rejoin him in the living room. He lays out the donut box and our coffees on the coffee table, and I ask, “So, why the whole courting thing? That was really confusing when you told me you wanted to take things slow.”

He takes off his suit coat, rolls his sleeves up his thick forearms, and flips his tie over his shoulder before reaching for a cocoa-powdered donut.

“I’m sorry that I upset you, Jane, so let me be extra clear about it all. I like you. I think you like me. And I think we’re both in a place where we can appreciate a person without having to be naked with them every time every second of every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be naked with you, but I want to get to know you first.”

I arch my brows at him.

“You mean to say, you want to know me with my clothes on?”

He nods.

“Yes, because you’re a hell of a woman, and I enjoy spending time with you. That’s not to say I want to be celibate, not at all. But sometimes, I want to enjoy clothed you as well. Is that okay?”

I smile and grab a chocolate-glazed, crème-filled bite of glory. The napkin beneath it gleams with powdered sugar and I giggle.

“Yeah, but I have a habit of falling into bed easily, Brent. I love sex. I love everything about it, from the aching between my legs to the sore abs and throat the next day. I’m —”