Page 4 of Mountain Daddy
I start to shake my head again.
Dad and I get along well, but we’ve never lived together.
Never ever.
He’s always lived across the country from me.
Sure, he’d visit for a month every summer when I was growing up. We’d talk on the phone. And we do these dinners now. But living together…
In Colorado.
And not just in Colorado.
In the mountains.
It’s been a long time since I’ve visited, but he’s been in the same house for as long as I can remember. And it’srural.
“I can’t just move to Colorado.”
“Why not?” he asks, like he really doesn’t see the problem.
“I have a job here.”
“Quit.”
My brows lift. “Just quit? And then what?”
Dad starts to nod before I even finish talking. “Work for me.”
“Work… for you.” I shake my head. “I appreciate you’re trying to help, but I’m not handy. I can’t build furniture.”
He huffs a laugh. “I love you, Kenny. But I will never hand you a power tool ever again.”
I roll my eyes.You saw through one electrical cord, and the world will never let you forget.
“I need help with the admin shit. Tracking orders, dealing with shipping and invoices. Honestly, business has been blowing up the last few years, and I need the help. I’d rather have you do it than have to hire some stranger.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. And the more I think about it, the more serious I am.”
“What about all my stuff?” As I say it, I think about how much I got rid of when I moved in with Lizzy. I puff out a breath. “Really, it’s just my bedroom set and clothes. Some knickknack shit, but not much else.”
“You can put it in storage, and we can deal with it later,” Dad suggests, tilting his head. “Or you can sell it. The guest room has a decent mattress, and I can clear out the closet. Been meaning to do that for years anyway.”
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
Reallyconsidering this.
But what options do I realistically have?
I don’t have any friends with spare bedrooms. I don’t want to take out a loan just to live. And Mom moved to France six years ago, so even if I wanted to, living with her isn’t an option.
My shoulders sag as I watch Dad’s expression turn hopeful.
I want to ask him how much he’ll pay me, but I think this is one of thosebeggars can’t be chooserssituations.
I’ve been working in corporate America for a decade.
