My Ex's Dad

“So, how are you feeling?” Lukas asks, aiming that steely gaze at my dad.

Except it softens a little as he looks at dad, not like the fierceness that filled his expression when he stared at me. I almost shiver when I remember the way he looked at me outside, his lips tight, seeming like he was ready to roar at me for no reason.

“Fine, fine.” Dad waves a hand. “I get tired more easily. That’s the most annoying part. But otherwise, I feel great.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, Mitchell. I mean that.”

Dad turns to me, and I inwardly cringe. Just before I left to take Chirpy for a walk – he was so full of energy – we were talking about me getting a part-time job to help with college, as well as money toward a car. I didn’t have one in Maine because I lived on campus, but I’ll be commuting into the city now.

Surely he’s not going to ask what I think he is.

“Actually, there is something,” Dad says.

“Dad…”

“What?” he says softly.

I meet his gaze, struggling to think how I can phrase this without giving the game away. I can’t exactly tell him I’ve had a crush on Lukas for as long as I can remember, and the thought of being close to him makes me crazy in two different ways. It makes me crazy like I want to run away… and toward him.

I shrug, and dad turns back to Lukas.

“My daughter is on the hunt for a part-time job,” Dad says. “So if you’re serious about helping, that would mean a lot to us.”

It’s not often I physically feel a blush rising to my cheeks. Me and a couple of my Maine classmates would joke about how often characters in books feel themselves blush when people in real life rarely do.

And yet that’s what is happening now.

When Lukas turns his gaze on me, a fierce red blush rises to my cheeks. I can feel my face warming up. Other parts of me spark to life too, my nipples growing sensitive, and my sex tingling.

I do my best to pretend none of this is happening, pretend that being locked in place by his gaze isn’t making me want to scream.

“What sort of work were you looking for?” he asks.

He’s staring in that way again. As if he wasn’t already pissed at me interrupting his time with his son and dragging him here. He looks furious at the idea he has to give me a job.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to,” I say quickly.

“I want to,” he says.

I find that difficult to believe as he glares at me.

Shrugging, I mutter, “Something close to college would be good. That way I could fit my hours around my studies. My dream job would be something that would give me time to write, but obviously, that’s not a requirement. I was a waitress back in Maine and I’m not scared of hard work.”

Lukas bites down for a moment, thinking. He has such a captivating expression when he’s lost in thought. But that’s not saying much. No matter his mood, I could stare at him for days without getting bored.

“I have a few laundromats,” he says a moment later. “You don’t need to do much other than sit behind the counter and help if there are any problems with the machines. You’d be able to do some studying on the side. And the pay is decent. I pride myself on taking care of my people.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Dad chuckles. “Lorena, haven’t you ever heard the expression about looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

“I’ll give Jaime a list of locations and he can pass them onto you. That way you can pick the best one. If you can work evenings, it will be even quieter. I think we have three openings for evening workers, actually.”

“Please, that would be great,” I say quickly. “And thank you, Mr. Landon.”

His intense eyes flare, growing wide for a moment when I use his surname. A crazy part of me thinks this is because he wants me to use his first name. He wants me to call him Lukas… no, not just call him that.

He wants me to moan it in his ear, wants me to claw my nails down his muscled back as I scream his name.

“How is college going, anyway?” Lukas asks.

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me, even if I’m the only one he could be talking to.

Jaime works as a social media manager for a franchise of bars and clubs in the city, landing the job on his twenty-first birthday. Before that, he was flitting between jobs, but he never wanted to go to college.

“It’s going well,” I say. “I think so, anyway. I love being able to dedicate so much time to reading. Even if some of the texts are a little dry.”