“Are you just passing through?” I’m beyond nervous about his potential answer.
“No. The driver only stayed to make sure you were here. He’s taking off now. I came here just to see you. I got your email.”
My goofy grin is back, and he squeezes me to his chest. I can’t get over how much taller he is than I am. His body is like an oversized weighted blanket that chokes away every anxiety and fear. I melt into him like butter on a warm stove. I suddenly feel him tensing, and my head shoots straight up so I can look him in the eye.
“I was desperate to see you today,” he says sincerely. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take off in the morning for an important meeting in San Francisco.”
I bow in sober understanding. “Okay.”
Without giving me a chance to mourn his imminent departure, his lips are back on mine. My anxiety that was evident only a second ago is whisked away by the motion of his tongue. Leading the seductive oral tango, he’s tasting all he can, and I am equally as hungry for him. His hands start to get grabby as they caress and hold every bit of flesh on my body that they can reach through my clothing—my thigh, my ass, my breasts. I groan inside his mouth as my back is pressed against the rear door of his car. I hadn’t realized we were moving backwards while kissing, but we obviously had in order for me to be leaning on metal.
The front door of the house swings wide open, and light immediately shoots out and illuminates the walkway. Drew and I pull apart and face the entrance. Standing in the doorway is my father, who doesn’t look all that amused.
Well—this is awkward.
Quen
“Dad, this is uh…um…”
“I’m Drew. Nice to meet you.”
I feel like I’m in an alternate universe as I watch the man who fucked my brains out five days in a row shake my father’s hand. The less than warm expression on Dad’s face isn’t unwarranted being that he just caught this stranger tonguing down his daughter in front of his house. I’m a barrel of nerves, wondering how on earth to get out of this uber awkward situation. I mean—how do I go about explaining to my dad how I met Drew in the first place?
Dad—so um…remember when I told you I was driving to Eugene to meet Blair? Well, I really didn’t go to Eugene. Instead, I ditched my piece of shit car in Douglas County and hitched a ride with this rich, hot son of a bitch. That uncomfortable conversation is happening very soon, I bet.
My father is about four inches shorter than Drew. It didn’t dawn on me until I saw Dad tilting his head to look up at the younger man. As soon as my father spots the Niners cap though, the two men hit it off. Dad has been a huge San Francisco 49ers fan since the early days of Joe Montana. It was one of the many things I told Drew while we were on the road.
Part of me wonders if he wore the hat on purpose. If I could describe Drew’s style, I’d say it’s more business casual than sporty. I wouldn’t have guessed he owned a hat.
As the two men get comfortable in the living room, I escape to the open kitchen across the way. I’m not surprised when I see that my father hasn’t bothered cooking. If I hadn’t gotten here sooner, he probably would’ve had a bowl of Frosted Flakes for dinner. He loves that sugary shit. But since I’m here, I grab hamburger, tomato, lettuce and shredded cheese from the fridge before making a beeline to the pantry for the tortilla shells.
While browning the beef in the skillet, I eavesdrop on the two men still talking sports. The topic of how Drew and I met still hasn’t come up, nor the fact that my car isn’t parked in the driveway. Drew just has this way of pulling you in with his charm and wit, and my father has already fallen under his spell.
Seeing them hit it off introduces this feeling in my core that I’ve never experienced before. Yet, I’m having a strange sense of déjà vu. It’s a sensation I never could’ve dreamt of experiencing.
This is a moment I can definitely get used to. Then, reality crashes in.
Drew lives in California.
My attention returns to the ground beef as I flip and chop it with the plastic spatula. I’m so focused on my thoughts that I don’t realize the conversation in the living room has stopped. I suddenly feel a set of hands on my shoulders. Because Drew’s distinct scent reaches my central nervous system before his touch, I don’t drop the spatula. I spin around and look way up at him.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Huh?” I lean back and blink several times before realizing he came in here to help me. I chuckle. Aww, he’s too cute. I’m not used to men asking if they can help me cook.
“I’m a great cook.” He looks proud.
“I’m good in here. But there’s something you can do.” I shut off the burner and dash over to the fridge. I return holding out two beers. “Keep my dad company.”
He takes the bottles and throws me for a loop when he steals a quick kiss from me. I light up, then my eyes dart over to see if my dad just caught that.
“He’s in the bathroom.” Drew narrows his gaze while wearing a mischievous grin.
I take in a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I haven’t told him about my car breaking down, my trip to Carmel, or how I met you.”
“No worries. I won’t say anything.”
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” I say definitively.
He shrugs. “That’s a safe bet.”
I sigh, dreading what’s to come.
During dinner, the topic of how Drew and I met finally surfaced. My father wasn’t too pleased, but he soon got over it once he realized how Drew kept his daughter safe. Also, knowing that Drew founded the company that owns two brands currently giving Instagram and LinkedIn a run for their money gave my father a bit more reassurance. Drew O’Brien isn’t some creep that can just chop up bodies at a rest stop and get away with it.
Later, Dad joked about Drew possibly being the perfect guy if he weren’t a San Francisco Giants and Golden State Warriors fan. See, my father is a huge Oakland A’s fan, which makes me one by default. And when it comes to basketball, it’s Rip City for us all the way. We’re apeshit about our Trail Blazers in Portland.
After dinner, I was floored when my father offered Drew the spare bedroom, which he graciously accepted. When I asked him if he brought any clothes, he told me that he’d sleep in what he was wearing and that his driver would bring a change of clothes first thing in the morning. Once showered and changed, he’s heading straight to the airport to board his jet.
Dad turns in early, and Drew and I are still talking in the kitchen an hour after the dishes are put away. As we stand at the island, he stops and looks at me as I wear a pensive expression.
“What’s up? Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I…I don’t…” For some reason, fear floods me and I don’t have the heart to speak my mind. Yet the way he looks at me gives me this renewed sense of courage.
“Just say it,” he urges gently.
“I wonder if this is the beginning of something.” I don’t have to gesture between us with my hand in order for him to get me. He just does.
“I hope so,” he says with a boyish grin. He pulls me to him and holds me tight before slightly pulling back to tilt my chin. After gazing into my eyes for what seems to be a lifetime, he leans down to kiss me.