Page 5 of Daddy Issues

WhiskeyDad: Fuck. You’re making me hard and I haven’t even met you yet

Holy shit. Is this really happening right now? My pussy throbs between my legs, already wet and wanting so badly to be filled by the man currently upstairs rock hard from talking to me. God, will he get himself off? The image of Graham laying on his bed, jerking himself off, imagining what it will be like hooking up with me is almost too much to bear. I hope like hell this doesn’t completely backfire on me.

MakeMeYours: How soon can you meet?

WhiskeyDad: Friday too soon for you?

MakeMeYours: Friday is perfect.

WhiskeyDad: I’ll send you the details soon. Can’t wait.

MakeMeYours: Me too.

I quickly close out of the chat box, swiping the app closed and tossing my phone to the side. My fingers reach for the waistband of my sleep shorts, my hand finding its home between my legs, fingers easily slipping through my center. I come fast and hard to the image of Graham, his name on my lips as I unravel.

I lay there and pant, trying to catch my breath and letting the post-lust haze settle. This is either going to be the worst idea of my life or the absolute best. There is no in between. But I have to take the chance. I just hope it’s the latter.

* * *

The next day, butterflies fill my stomach, my heart firmly planted in my throat. I woke up this morning and thought the events were a wine dream. It wouldn’t be the first time my subconscious graced me with living out my deepest fantasy. One where Graham uses me as his personal plaything. Granted, that part was definitely a dream, but the parts where Graham agreed to meet with me to hook up? That most definitely happened. He just has no idea that the person he agreed to meet is his current live-in nanny. What a role model I am. For fuck’s sake, what have I done? Luckily, Graham had gone to work by the time I left my bedroom to wake up his daughter Mila and get her off to school. He may not know he was talking to me, but I do, and this morning, my nerves have definitely gotten the best of me.

My oldest sister Hannah’s fingers snap loudly in front of my face, pulling me out of my daydream.

“Yo! What is wrong with you? Where’d you just go?” she asks me as she pulls more ingredients out to whip up something in her bakery. Hannah is now the proud owner of our—once—family bakery and coffee shop. Bean Haven is a town staple, and out of the three of us Haven sisters, the only one who got the baking bug like our grandmother is Hannah. Our middle sister, Harlow, is a bit of a crotchety old lady, even if she’s still in her mid-twenties.

“Just lost in my head. I have a date tomorrow.”

“Hailey Haven! Look at you go! Back from college for a few months and already dating! Who is it?”

Shit. I walked right into that one. I can’t tell her the truth, she’d freak, even if she has kind of paved the way for us to be rebellious. She just married her lifelong best friend in an attempt to save Bean Haven from being sold by our wretched mother. That’s after being a young, unwed, single mother. Anything I do should still be considered a tier above her, lord knows our parents have put us against each other since we were kids.

“You know? I really don’t want to jinx it, so I’ll let you know if it goes somewhere.”

“No way, spill!” she pushes.

“Oh, will you look at the time?” I say, looking at my wrist filled with bangles and no watch. “Time to get errands done before I pick up Mila!” Hannah cocks her hip to the side, giving me a “this isn’t over” look.

With a wave of my fingers, I turn quickly to jet out the door of Bean Haven and step onto the cobblestone sidewalk of our tiny downtown. The spring air hits my bare skin, and with the heavy, overcast clouds, there’s a chill that pebbles my flesh into goosebumps. Thankfully, I wore my jean jacket, so it’s only my legs that will have to be chilly today. My booties clink on the stone as I walk up Main Street, the Washington wind a slow breeze, gusting over me.

The small town of Aspen Ridge sits on the Pacific Coast, snuggled right up against the Olympic Mountains. We’re secluded enough that our little piece of the world is hidden away and protected, but not so remote that we’re living scenes straight out ofThe Hills Have Eyes.

After being away for the last four years at college, I’m so grateful to be out of the city and back home. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone, is quiet, and the air is clean. Ever since I was a little girl, all I’ve wanted is to live here and have a family of my own—to be a mother and have a doting husband. Aspen Ridge is the dream place to raise a family.

I walk a few blocks up Main Street as my friends Lily and Emma emerge from Rogue Tattoo. Lily’s black hair is pulled up high in a tight bun, wisps escaping and framing her face. She’s wearing a pair of cut-off shorts, espadrille sandals that tie up her calves, and a white top that hangs off her shoulder. Emma’s head drops back in a laugh as she steps out the door, her blonde hair in loose waves, a maxi dress clinging to her in all the right places. Their eyes light up as they see me coming, and I don’t hold back my smile. It’s so good to be home.

“Hey, my girls! Trip to Reid, huh?”

Emma beams as Lily holds out her arm. In the most delicate script, which can only be the work of Aspen Ridge tattoo artist, Reid Knight, is the word “run.”

“You did not!” I laugh, my hand reaching out and grabbing her bicep.

“I so did! Think Wes will like it?”

“I think he’s going to lose his mind that you let someone else touch you!” I joke. Lily is married to our town’s mystery man—Wes Draven—who after his son dumped Lily last fall, kind of chased her down and got her to fall in love with him. It’s a wild story, but one that worked out happily for both of them.

“Alright, hussy, what did you get?” I ask Emma, raising my eyebrows and moving my hands to my hips. Clearly, it’s the day they both permanently commemorate the men in their lives. There’s no way she went with Lily and didn’t get anything herself.

“Since they each have my name across their knuckles, I got three tiny hearts, one for each of them.” She blushes as she holds out her wrist. Emma is in a relationship withthreemen. Individually and together. As in, they share her. Lily and I both about died when she told us. Only Emma could handle those three best friends.

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