Hearing her say my name does things to me that should not be happening, but I force myself to stay in control. I’m thankful that the kitchen island’s currently a barrier between us so she can’t see the erection I’m suddenly sporting.
“No,” I growl in answer. “I’m not. But I’m not sure what that has to do with why you’re here?”
She runs her finger around the rim of the glass, and finally takes a sip of the water. When she finishes, she still doesn’t look at me. “I guess it isn’t really the reason I’m here, but I’m glad to hear it.”
I stare at the curvy girl, unsure what to think of her words. Should I be offended that she’s happy I haven’t found a partner? Or should I be intrigued by the fact she seems happy knowing I am single? Either way, I need to find out what’s going on so she can be on her way. Being alone with Dakota Stanton without my son in the room is only going to lead down a road that will end up steamy and wrong.
4
Jack
* * *
“Dakota, I need you to tell me what’s going on. I know you didn’t come here just to ask me if I’m dating anyone.”
She swallows heavily, going completely still. “Honestly, I don’t know why I came here, Mr. Straithmore. I was just driving around, and when I finally paid attention to where I was, I realized I’d pulled into your driveway.”
I nod.
“That makes sense because you come here a lot to see Eddie, and I’m sure it was just muscle memory. But why didn’t you leave?”
She doesn’t say anything, merely staring at the table again, so I gentle my tone.
“Did you and Eddie have a fight, sweetheart? It happens to all couples.”
My voice chokes a bit on the word “couple” but it is what it is. This woman belongs to my son, and I can’t cockblock my own flesh and blood, even if Eddie’s somewhat of a prick. I just hope Dakota doesn’t say yes and start asking for relationship advice because this is genuinely out of my expertise. Eddie isn’t the kind of kid who ever wanted to talk about his girlfriends, and since my last real relationship ended ten years ago, I’m not exactly the person people should seek out for that kind of help.
After a minute, the pretty brunette finally says, “No. Well, yes. Sort of. It wasn’t really a fight.”
I chuckle low in my chest.
“Dakota, look at me.” Slowly, her eyes lift until they meet mine, and my heart melts as I look into that warm chocolate gaze. “I’m not really great at managing young women, but if you tell me what it is, I can try and help. I just can’t keep guessing.”
She takes a deep breath before nodding.
“Yes,” she says in a small voice. “You’re right.”
But instead of opening up, instead the curvy girl pushes away from the island and hops off her stool. I expect her to leave since I’ve essentially shut her down, but instead she slowly walks into the living room as I follow in bewilderment.
I run my hands through my hair about ready to pull it out. I’m experienced with teenage boys, but teenage girls seem to be made of different stuff altogether. Yet, I can’t help but watch that round ass as it sashays into the seating area. In my head, I know that she’s off limits, but the longer she’s here, the harder it is to keep reminding myself that this is my son’s girlfriend.
Dakota finally turns to face me, then she takes a deep breath and steps a little closer. “Mr. Straithmore, do you think I’m attractive?”
My eyes pop out of my head and I nearly swallow my tongue. What? I clear my throat. “Sweetheart, why would you ask me that?”
Tears spring to her eyes, and I immediately regret my words. Why the hell did I say that? If a woman asks if she’s attractive, then she’s looking for affirmation, whether she’s eight or eighty years old. Anything other than a succinct yes, and she’s going to assume the worst.
“I’m sorry, Dakota, I just meant … well, hell.” I run my hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “You surprised me, that’s all. But of course I find you attractive. Very much so.”
Oh shit, I’ve said too much, but Dakota merely nods, biting her lip, and fuck, but I want to kiss it. Her bosom moves up and down as she takes a deep breath and steps a little closer to me once again, this time into my personal space. What’s going on? Why is she advancing?
My rational mind tells me I should walk away and put some serious distance between us, but my feet are suddenly rooted to the floor. My eyes are drawn to her hands as she moves them down to the bottom of her sweater, and then in a swift movement, she pulls it over her head. At the first glimpse of her white cotton bra cupping her full breasts, I nearly lose my composure. Oh god, is this really happening?