Page 82 of More, Daddy
For the sake of argument—not because I’m giving her any chances or the benefit of the doubt—let’s say she only lied about being Cadence because she thought it was the only way I’d consider her. Let’s say that’s true and that everything else, as she said, was true, too.
Filtering through all the things she told me onVeiled, a particular memory comes back. Her dating history. She said she’s only had one serious relationship, and it was her high school boyfriend. She said they dated her junior and senior year.
Briar graduated last year. She still wears her letterman jacket on game days.
That means she and her ex must’ve broken up last year. And he must’ve attended Bluebell. I narrow my gaze on Austin Reeves, wondering now—is he her ex? They’re the same age, and Austin graduated last year, too. And I guess if I think about it, Austin and Briar have been together at fundraisers and pancake breakfasts.
He leans over, and it happens in slow motion as he reaches out, dropping his palm on her shoulder as he curls her body toward him. He brings his lips to her ear, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he whispers something that makes her smile.
I think of the way she begged me not to stop on the training table yesterday, and the way her cheeks flushed when she called me daddy.
Austin leans back, but he’s slow to take his hand off of her, and I find my eyes locked on him. He gets to casually touch her because they’re the same age, and no one finds him inappropriate when he whispers something in her ear. It’s not his fault, but hate irrationally blooms in my veins when I look at Austin Reeves. Not just that he gets to touch her and talk to her casually, but he can be with her.
The two of them can actually fucking be together if they want.
No one would bat an eye.
Dean bumps his leg into mine, and it’s the first time I’m realizing he’s there. With Leah talking, he drops his voice to a whisper so we don’t get in trouble. “You gonna kill Reeves or is that murderous look for the wall?”
I force the tension out of my shoulders as I let out a forced sigh.Chill the fuck out, West.I lean toward Dean, and ignore the way Briar glances back at us curiously. “Didn’t sleep welllast night.” The back of my neck grows itchy, and not because I’m lying—I didn’t sleep well last night.
I don’t like being in this room with Briar.
She lied. There is no us.
I thought moving past this would be easy, but this conference room feels like it’s closing in around me, and if I don’t get out, I’ll be smashed alive. I don’t know if I can work around her. I don’t know if Icanjust move on.
DoIwant to move on?
She lied, I remind myself, like a broken record. I don’t need to keep repeating it. I know she lied. I’m living in the aftermath of her goddamn lies, in the ash of her dishonesty.
Pris lied. She said she’d keep an open mind. She said she’d try. She said a lot of things that weren’t true, and hurt me in ways that I never thought was possible. She made me feel bad about who I am, and no matter how fucked up I can get about myself, even I know that was wrong.
I don’t want to go through that kind of heart ache again.
I can’t.
But if she isn’t lying about the rest of it… if how she feels about me, if what she shared with me about her needs and wants—if that’s real…
My heart starts to beat so fast just then, Leah’s voice growing distant as I focus on deep, slow breaths in through my nose and long, controlled breaths out my mouth. A beat passes and no amount of good breathing or counting out of order is staving off this impending anxiety attack, so I tell Dean I’m not feeling well, and slip out.
A few minutes later, the entire meeting is out and I find myself cursing up a storm under my breath when Briar slips into my office and annoyingly does not lock the door.
Hands splayed against the door, she blinks up at me, her nipples hard behind her navy blue polo. Her blonde hairbounces in another perfectly manicured ponytail, only this time, on top of the ponytail, is a little white satin ribbon, tied into a bow.
I blink at the satin ribbon and finally find her eyes. “You can’t be in here,” I say hoarsely, trying to remember that cheerleaders wear ribbons, that she didn’t wear that to tap into my carnal daddy side, to remind me of that other forbidden thing that lingers between us.
“I got IT to run a keystroke recorder on your laptop,” she says quietly, her eyes trained on mine with an intense focus that doesn’t help the satin-ribbon caused hard-on I already have.
Confusion knits my brows and I move from behind my desk, coming to stand in front of her. She’s so slight in my presence, and that doesn’t help my size kink, either.
“I saved my salary for a month, got kinda ahead on my bills at home, and paid him to put a keystroke recorder on your computer so I could find out what online dating services you were using. That’s how I found you usedVeiled. And that’s how I found out your username.” She takes a step closer, and because I’m goddamn foolish, I do nothing when she reaches for the hem of her shirt and yanks it off over her head, making her ponytail swing.
I drum my fingers against my thigh, trying my hardest not to envision my knuckles full of her silky hair, her cries muffled by my pillow.
“That’s how I got to you. Up until then, I’d been obsessing over you from afar. I even had one summer where I hung out with Jo Jo Turner a ton because you’re friends with her dad. I’ve sat behind you while you ate at Goode’s, I’ve run behind you on the track, sometimes I park near you just to get a whiff of your cologne when you open your truck door in the morning.” Her nostrils flare with each wild admission. Briar bringsher hand to her shoulder, slipping it beneath the white strap of her bra. She shoves one strap down, then repeats the process, losing the other. Reaching behind herself, she moves toward me as she unclasps her bra, revealing her supple, velvety bare breasts. She collects her shirt and bra.
I look. So help me God, I look.
