Page 1 of Texting Dad's Best Friend

1

RHETT

Fifteen years ago, when I first started this company, I’d never have been caught dead leaving the office at five o’clock. For years, this place was essentially my home—I’ve slept on the couch in my office more times than I would like to admit. But now, with the clock reading three minutes past five, I’m already shrugging my jacket on and leaving.

It’s a Friday evening, which means it’s time for my weekly drinks with Paul. We’ve been best friends for God knows how long, and somewhere along the way, we fell into the routine of after-work drinks at the local bar every Friday, with an unspoken rule not to miss it. I’m glad for it, truthfully, because if it wasn’t for this routine, I’d probably never socialize.

Given I’m in my early forties, most of my friends and acquaintances are married and settled down, some with kids. Christ, Paul’s daughter, is in her twenties. But I’ve spent so long married to my work, this company that I built from the ground up, that I haven’t had any time or energy left to find the person to spend my life with.

It hasn’t bothered me … until recently. Now that the company has been well established for so long, and I’m lucky to have an incredibly talented and capable team who knows the business almost as well as I do, and there’s less need for me to work myself half to death, I’m beginning to become all too aware of how quiet and cold my house is when I come home for the night.

I try to shake that depressing thought out of my head and continue my walk towards the doors, saying goodbye to the few employees still here on my way.

“Have a good night, Mina!” I call out to the receptionist as she closes down her computers and finishes up. She smiles at me, wishing me the same as I stroll out the doors and into the fresh evening air.

By the time I make it to my car, I’m failing miserably at not thinking about the desire to find somebody to settle down with. It should be easy, right? Find a nice girl—God knows my friends have plenty of people they’ve been trying to set me up with over the years—get married and maybe have a couple of kids. There’s only one problem, and it’s a big fucking problem—nobody appeals to me except the one person I’m definitelynotsupposed to want. The one person who is absolutely, surely, totally off-limits.

Rayna Baker.

My best friend’s daughter.

At twenty-three, she’s twenty years younger than me, full of life, determined, sweet, and so fucking gorgeous I’d have to be blind not to find her attractive. But it’s more than that; it’s her heart and personality that got me. She’s had me wrapped around herfinger for three years, not that she knows it, and I go to lengths to make sure nobody else does, either.

She can’t find out because then Paul would find out, and he’d never forgive me. Besides, there’s no way my feelings are reciprocated. I’ve tried to avoid my own feelings, tried to ignore and deny them, but it’s impossible. So instead, I’ve vowed to myself to suffer in silence, wanting her from a distance but pretending like I don’t, for everyone’s sake.

Still, the whole drive to the bar, Rayna’s in my mind. Her blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and glittery makeup that makes her shine on the outside just as much as she does inside. Her laugh, her smile, the way she shimmies along to music when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Fuck.

I need to get a goddamn grip. I pull into the parking lot, forcing myself to take deep breaths to clear my mind before seeing Paul.

When I’ve gotten ahold of myself, I put on my best normal expression and head into the bar. Lionel’s Dive Bar is far from fancy, and though Paul and I could afford a high-end place now, we wouldn’t change this place for the world. The lighting inside is dim, and the noise of chatter and glasses clinking combines with the thud of pool balls cueing off as people play a round in the corner. The familiar environment relaxes me a little, and I head over to our usual spot at the bar on the far left.

Paul’s already there waiting for me, two drinks in front of him. He slides one over to me as I take the seat next to him, and I nod in thanks as I take a sip. The liquor burns its way down my throat, and I focus on the sensation instead of the treacherous thoughts in my mind.

For a few hours, we chat about the usual things—work and vacation plans and mutual friends. But soon enough, Paul brings up the one thing I was hoping to avoid as the bar begins to fill around us.

“So, when are you gonna leave your bachelor life behind, huh? You’re not getting any younger,” he says, elbowing me in the ribs good-naturedly as our third round of drinks arrives.

I force my expression to stay neutral, taking a long sip of my whiskey. I have no choice but to lie. “When I find someone who makes me want to settle down,” I answer.I already have, I just can’t have her, is what I don’t say.

Paul rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re not going to find anyone sitting around talking to me and ignoring the women in the bar,” he says, shaking his head. He looks around, then grabs my shoulder to encourage me to look with him, gesturing discreetly at a woman on the other side of the bar. “Send a drink over to her, go flirt, get her number!”

I’m sure she’s a perfectly lovely person, but there’s not a single part of me that’s interested. Nobody will ever hold a candle to the girl I really want.

“Maybe later,” I deflect, quickly changing the subject. “Hey, whatever happened to that guy, the one from your rival company that was trying to recruit your employee from under your nose?”

I know that’s a sensitive subject for Paul, and sure enough, it triggers a long rant about his hatred for the rival and how disrespectful and unprofessional he is. I nod along, just thankful he took my bait and stopped asking questions he really doesn’t want the truthful answer to.

My phone chimes in my pocket as Paul’s still ranting, and I take a sip of my drink and check it quickly.

The second I see who’s texted me and what they’ve texted me, I choke. Sputtering, I slam the glass back onto the bar and gasp for breath. Paul stops mid-sentence and pats me hard on the back as I reel, chuckling.

“Christ, what’s got you flustered?” he laughs, trying to grab my phone to see for himself why I’m suddenly struggling to function.

Shit! I move fast, leaping off my chair and shoving my phone back in my pocket, too aggressively for it not to be suspicious, but fuck, I can barely think straight.

“Back in a minute,” I call out, turning on my heel and making straight for the bathrooms. I can hear Paul’s laughter following me through the bar, but thank God, he doesn’t try to stop me.

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