Page 6 of Texting Dad's Best Friend

I can’t focus on how fancy his car is or how it smells like his cologne and my body’s response to that because Rhett drives the short distance with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh. The casual yet intimate touch is so consuming that it takes me a minute to realize when we get to our destination, and I startle a little when Rhett moves and comes to open my door for me again.

Rhett’s brought me to a cute brunch spot downtown, and the smell of coffee and pastries warms me as we enter. We’re quickly shown to a corner booth with a cute floral arrangement in the center of the table, and I slide onto the leather seat across from Rhett, our legs touching beneath the table as though neither of us can bear not to be touching, for even a second.

“Everything looks so good,” I say as I look over the menu, drooling over the pancake stacks and selection of pastries available. I’ve always had a sweet tooth, after all.

“It does indeed,” Rhett agrees, the tone of his voice making me look up to find him staring directly at me, not at the menu.

I blush, squirming and trying to remind myself of the importance of eating breakfast to avoid just grabbing his hand and rushing us out of here so he can eatmeinstead. My thoughts must be written all over my face because he chuckles. “Later, baby. Let me feed you first.”

I finally decide on a strawberry and white chocolate pancake stack, with a fruit smoothie to drink, and Rhett and I chat about life until the waitress brings our order over. I’ve known Rhett foryears, but I’ve never allowed myself to get close to him, to truly listen to him speak about his passions and career, because it was too painful to know I could never have him. But now, I listen eagerly, devouring all the information he gives me, wanting to know everything I can about the man I’ve claimed as my own.

The pancakes are the best I’ve ever had, and so is the company. When the loud ringing of a phone interrupts our happy bubble, I jump so hard that some of my smoothie spills over the rim of the glass.

Rhett gives me an apologetic look, pulling out his phone to check who’s calling. His eyes widen, and he curses under his breath.

“Sorry, baby, I need to take this. I’ll only be a moment,” he explains, and I nod, trying to be understanding but also a little worried as to who put that look on his face.

He stands and moves to take the call outside, and I focus on my food, savoring my meal. Unfortunately, the universe seems to have decided I’m not allowed a second of peace because a new voice interrupts me mid-bite.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing with an old guy like that?” a male voice asks, tone teasing and making my hair stand on end. I bristle, swallowing thickly, and turn to find a man from the table beside us leaning over to speak to me. He’s around my age, if I had to guess, and well-built. I’m sure he’d be considered handsome by anyone else, but to me, he looks as bland as the cereal I usually eat for breakfast before work.

“Excuse me?” I ask, my tone sharp.

“Oh come on, you know what I mean,” the man leers. “What’s the deal? Is he, like, your sugar daddy or something?”

I gape at the stranger, wondering where the hell he got the audacity to say such a thing. “What?! No!”

The man just smirks. “That’s a shame, you deserve to be spoiled. I could treat you right, you know…”

My delicious food turns to lead in my stomach as the man tries to flirt with me, insulting Rhett as he does. Now I’m mad for multiple reasons because how dare he try to ruin my pancakes and my relationship?!

“I’m not interested,” I snipe, hoping he’ll leave me alone.

“Give me a chance,” he pushes, leaning closer and nearly knocking his glass of water to the floor. “I’ll treat you so good?—”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head at him. “You’re delusional,” I inform him, furious. “You could never, in a million years or in your wildest dreams, ever treat me as good as Rhett does. How many ways do I have to tell you? I. Am. Not. Interested!”

The man’s face morphs from gross leering to outright rage. His cheeks redden, and his thick brows draw together as his mouth sets in a hard line. A beat of panic rings in my chest, realizing I’ve just antagonized an unknown man when I’m alone and know approximately zero self-defense.

Just great!

“What did you just say?” the man seethes as he pushes to his feet. I lean back in my booth, trying to put distance between us. “How dare you! You bitch?—”

“What did you just call her?” a cold yet comforting voice asks. My heart leaps with relief as Rhett comes into view, standing protectively between me and the stranger.

I peer around Rhett’s arm, thoroughly enjoying the way the other man’s face pales. “Hey, look, it wasn’t?—”

“Do you want to repeat what you just said?” Rhett asks, his tone dark and menacing. I can’t deny the fact that it’s heating my blood, watching him stand up for me like this. It’s as if every time I think I can’t get more attracted to him, he proves me wrong.

“I…I…” the man stammers, clearly not in control of the situation anymore.

“I suggest you stop talking to or even looking in the direction of my girl,” Rhett presses, and I swear I’d have swooned if I wasn’t already sitting down.

The other man musters enough bravado to snark back, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

I can hear the challenging grin in Rhett’s voice when he answers, “Or else you’ll see just how much this old man can do.” He rolls up his sleeve, making the muscles in his arm flex. My mouth waters and I can’t wait to get out of here to show him my gratitude.

The other man sputters, backing away while muttering under his breath, trying to save face with empty threats but too much of a coward to say them to Rhett’s face. When he’s gone, Rhett turns to me, immediately pulling me into his arms.

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