Page 74 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

Evelyn

Three days have gone by. I’ve mostly gone swimming and filled out online applications for teaching jobs. But by now, most of the very few positions have been filled for the next year. Anything I get would be schools doing a last-minute scramble.

The guys have been in Texas since Tuesday morning. It hasn’t stopped them from sending the occasional text. Last night, they called me together and instructed me to take off my clothes and lie out on a lounge chair by the pool. Their sinful words and instructions filled my ears and I came almost as hard as I did when the three of us were together.

When my phone rings on Thursday morning, I’m hoping it’s them. Maybe they’re coming home a day early and they can help me eat the lemon scones I just baked.

I rush for the phone and see my dad’s name.

Guilt sinks its insidious claws into my chest. I shouldn’t dread picking up when it’s my dad, but I’m also keeping a pretty massive secret from him.

I refuse to focus on that. Instead, I’m going to be glad to hear his voice and catch up with him. After all, I spent six years pouting like a child and ignoring him. Maybe I have to keep a secret right now, but the least I can do is talk to him about everything else.

“Dad, hi!” I say.

“Hey, Pumpkin. How are you doing?”

“Great,” I say. “I just baked some scones and I’m going to have Maya and Sawyer over later.”

Things have been strangely quiet with Mom and Chloe, but I leave that update out. Dad doesn’t need to hear about them, and I’ve been trying to put them from my mind, as well.

“You baked scones? I bet Lincoln is happy about that.”

“Oh. Um, I wouldn’t know. He’s on a work trip right now.”

“What?” Dad sounds annoyed. “How long has he been gone?”

Feeling like I’m tattling on a friend, I say, “Just since Monday.”

“Him and Caleb, both?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I could count on Lincoln to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not a kid, Dad,” I protest. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Dad grumbles something unintelligible. It might be Japanese. “Okay,” he says. “It’s fine. You’re right, you don’t need a babysitter. I just thought he’d take care of you while I’m gone.”

Oh, he’s taken care of me, all right. Nope, squashing that thought down. No horny thoughts are permitted right now.

“I’m doing great,” I tell him. “I reconnected with my friends, we’ve been enjoying the pool.”

“Good, good.”

“I, uh, haven’t been very successful with the job search, though. My last job really screwed me over when they terminated my contract at the last minute, but I’m applying to everything I can find.”

“That’s okay,” he says with a smile in his voice. “That’s why I called you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. This isn’t perfect, but I found a possibility for you. It’s translating, not teaching, though.”

“I don’t mind translation work,” I say. At this point, I’m fine with translating. I’d probably be fine working in a bakery or as a nanny. I just need something so I can be independent.

“And it’s far away,” he adds.

“Oh.” I don’t love that. “How far?”

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