Page 33 of Stealing Daddy's Heart

Garrett's eyes widen. “That's not what I meant, Skylar. I just want to support you.”

“I'm not naive, Garrett,” I snap. “I know you're older and more experienced, but I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He reaches for my hand, but I pull away.

“Skylar, please. I know you're capable. I just want to make sure everything is above board.”

As the words leave his mouth, I notice another part of the message. My breath catches in my throat as I read it aloud.

“P.S. We hope you enjoyed the small token of our appreciation we sent over to you in the VIP section last night.”

“Oh my God, Garrett,” I say, looking up at him. “It was them. They sent the champagne.”

The harsh clatter of metal on tile makes me jump. Garrett's shoulders tense as he retrieves the dropped spatula, his movements suddenly controlled.

Garrett turns off the stove with a forceful twist, the pan scraping across the burner. When he faces me, his expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the storm brewing in his eyes.

“Skylar,” he says gently, “I'm not trying to rain on your parade. I think we should approach this carefully. Let me come with you to check out the space, okay?”

I want to argue, to prove that I can handle this on my own. But something in his tone makes me pause.

“Fine,” I concede, “but only because I value your opinion. Not because I need a chaperone.”

Garrett nods, relief flickering across his face. “Of course. We're partners in this, remember?”

As the word “partners” leaves his lips, a creeping thought begins to twist at the edges of my mind: my father. Garrett's best friend.

I shift in my seat, a mix of emotions swirling through me. The warmth and contentment I felt moments ago are tinged with a new awareness.

Dad had loaned me Garrett to help out with the Riverside building, showing me around and lending a hand. And now here I am, wearing his shirt after a night of passion.

I’m running around behind Dad's back with his best friend. But even as guilt nibbles at the edges of my consciousness, I don’t regret it.

What we have feels right, feels real. I breathe in Garrett's scent from his shirt and feel a surge of pride. I want this. I want him.

“No second thoughts?” Garrett's voice is gentle as he watches me, that same protectiveness in his gaze.

I force a smile, but my stomach churns.

“I—” I pause, searching for the right words, trying not to let this sudden guilt shatter the fragile peace between us. “It's my dad. He's—” The guilt unfurls further, making it hard to breathe.

Garrett's expression tightens, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face before vanishing beneath a mask of calm. “Trust me, I've thought about it too.”

It's strange. I hadn't given much thought to how it would affect Dad. I'd brushed off Garrett’s concerns, convinced it wouldn't be a big deal. But now that it's real between us, the potential consequences seem so much more concrete.

This will complicate things with my dad, with Garrett's career. “He'll never forgive us,” I say.

Garrett moves around the counter, pulling me into his arms. The solid warmth of his chest against my cheek is comforting, but it doesn't completely ease the turmoil in my mind.

“Skylar, I need you to understand something,” he says, his voice low and intense. “This isn't a fling for me. I've been searching for the right person for a long time. It feels like I've been waiting my entire life for you.”

I look into Garrett's eyes, searching for any sign of regret or hesitation, but I only find warmth and sincerity.

“Really?” I ask, hating how small and uncertain my voice sounds.

“I know there will be consequences,” he continues, his fingers gently stroking my hair. “Your father, my reputation, the age difference—I’ve thought about it all. But you’re worth it. You’re worth everything to me.”

His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, soothing some of my fears.

---