Page 2 of One Week With My Dad's Best Friend

“Of course.” Jade pulls me into another hug. Her perfume, mixed with that new-mom scent, fills my nose. “And stop worrying about staying with Anton. You’ve known him forever.”

“That’s what worries me.” I step back, wrapping my arms around myself.

Max closes the back door with a solid thud. “Ready to go, hon?”

“Remember what I said about the job?” Jade slides into the passenger seat. “Show him what you’re made of.”

Soon, my parents and sisters are near Jade’s car.

“See you soon,” Mum says, rapping her knuckles over the side window of Jade’s car.

I sigh as everyone waves as their car pulls away from my parent’s home. Wondering if I will get the same treatment when I leave later today.

I doubt that very much.

A hand touches my lower back.

I know it is him.

It’s the same gentle touch that sends electricity down my spine every time his body touches mine. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing a tee shirt. I always seem to get a thrill from his touch.

I know I shouldn’t.

Not only is he Dad’s former colleague and friend, but he’s older than me, at thirty-two years old. He’s also the man I made a fool of myself once before. Now I try to avoid him whenever he comes to the house. Making excuses to stay in my room every time.

I wave as Max pulls out of the driveway, watching until their car disappears around the corner.

“We’ll get going soon,” Anton says. His voice is deep and sends a thrill through me when it really shouldn’t.

His hand drops as Mom walks to me.

“Be a good girl when you’re at Anton’s. I don’t want a call from him,” Mom says, smiling at Anton.

I roll my eyes. Even at nineteen, she treats me like I’m still in high school. But the reminder sends a fresh wave of nerves through my stomach. A week alone with Anton Hawthorn. The man who worked with my father. The man who got invited to every family holiday dinner. The man who watches me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

Just seven days. I can handle seven days.

“We’ll get going soon,” Anton says. His warm breath ghosts over the back of my neck and I hope he doesn’t see the goosebumps that are tracking their way over my flesh. I always react the same way, but I assume that’s because he gets so close.

There’s a hope I have—more of a dream—that he likes the way I shiver under his gaze.

I know I am being stupid.

I turn to him and nod, and a little sad that his touch is no longer on my back.

He is staring at me peculiarly. Probably annoyed that I always act weird around him.

“Are you ready to go home? It’s getting late.” His words are innocent but the way he punctuates them, the way he sayshome,and I can’t breathe. Like I’m drawn to him. Ready for him.

Like he is my home.

I’ve been attracted to Anton for years now. Not that I could ever do anything about it then—I’m too young now, before it would’ve been obscene.

Anton is a lawyer of good standing and I am only a nineteen-year-old student with hopes for my future. I also know that men like Anton are attracted to women who are successful, powerful, and beautiful.

Not me.

No. Women like his ex-wife.

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