Falling For My Dad's Friend

“I’ll be careful,” I tell him sincerely. I’ll be careful with my heart.

My dad has no idea about my wants, though, and I’m glad for it.

“Magnus has a way of attracting enemies and danger,” he says. “I’m sending extra guards.”

“No, it’s okay,” I tell him, smoothing down my braid over my shoulder. “Dad, really, it’s fine.”

I want to be alone with Magnus, or at least as alone as can be permitted.

“I do love you, Cassie,” my dad says awkwardly, patting my shoulder.

We’re both new to this father-daughter thing, and our relationship isn’t quite fully formed but it doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. At least if I don’t ruin it by falling for his best friend, but the thing is…I already have.

“I know you do, Dad,” I answer him with a half-smile. “I love you too.”

As my dad walks back down the hall and disappears, I hear an office door shut gently. I wonder if Magnus was listening. Hopefully, he doesn’t think I’m a child who needs her dad’s protection. I can only hope he thinks of me as a woman and not someone to be coddled.

Alice helps me to pull on a heavy coat and I tuck my hat over my ears. I can see Piper having tea and cookies in the parlor, watching the rain pour over the windows, and she waves at me.

“Here,” Magnus says from behind me. His hand brushes over my waist and his warm body presses against mine for a moment. “You don’t want to get wet.”

My stomach does a little flip-flop as he holds an umbrella over my head and we exit the house. I huddle close to him as we get in the black SUV in the rain.

His scent is intoxicating. He’s like a warm autumn day, wrapped up in cigar smoke and cedar wood. I have to squeeze my legs together hard in the backseat. Our luggage is put into the back and I stare out of the window. The rain pours down and thunder cracks over the antique, brick manor house, loud and hard.

“How long will it take to get there?” I ask Magnus when I find my voice.

I don’t dare to look at him as he sheds his expertly tailored overcoat.

“We have about three hours or so,” he tells me, patting the front seat to tell the driver to go. “You can take a nap if you want to. I need you up and ready when we get there.”

I can’t be blamed if I let my thoughts run wild when I think about what exactly Magnus needs me for.

The car takes off and I watch the expansive brick manor house disappear behind the cover of the tall trees. I sit back in my seat, shivering in my thick coat and sweater.

“Here,” Magnus says, and there’s suddenly a blanket over my lap and tucked into my sides.

“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely because I didn’t expect gentleness from him but it only makes me want him more. He’s a complicated man and I want to figure him out.

“We’ll be staying in the old house,” Magnus says, tipping his head back against the seat.

The scruff of his neat beard travels lightly down the length of his neck and I want to press my lips there and grind my body down on his lap. For a moment, I wonder if he would mind. But, no. He hasn’t given any indication that his interest is anything other than purely professional, even as I ache for him.

“The old house,” I repeat quietly. The rain patters over the dark-tinted vehicle. “Is it your dad’s house? I’m sorry if I’m being too forward or nosey, and you don’t have to tell me anything—”

“It’s the house I grew up in,” Magnus interrupts in a gruff voice. It sounds like it’s hard for him to talk about it, but he’s trying. “It’s the house that my father built for my mother.”

“But the manor,” I ask hesitantly, without knowing where I’m taking the rest of my words.

I let my hand brush against his fingers on the seat and Magnus looks up at me quickly. I pull my hand away and he seems to deflate for a moment. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

“The manor is my family’s ancestral home,” he says as if he’s reciting from a textbook. “It was built in the 1800s by my father’s great, great grandfather.”

“But your dad didn’t want it?” I ask him and then regret my nosiness immediately. “I’m sorry, never mind.”

“It’s alright,” Magnus says, but his fist clenches on his leg. “It’s ancient history. My father didn’t want to be connected to our family. We’re known all over the state. But he wanted to make his own way, so he built our house, some of it was even constructed with his own hands.”