Page 8 of Staying Home with Dad's Best Friend
“Why?” I’m pissed. “Do I look like a slut to you?”
“No, but you don’t look that innocent, either.”
I bite my lip. I can’t blame him for that. “I’m not normally this way, Frank,” I say, hoping to change his perception of me. “I don’t flirt with guys.”
He blinks. “Are you saying I’m making you naughty?”
“Kind of,” I say. “I want you.”
His eyes darken again, but only for a second. He lifts me off his lap and puts me back onto the couch. “You shouldn’t, Meg,” he says as he stands up. “I’m your dad’s best friend, and I’m twenty years older than you.”
I pout. Damn. I ruined it.
Frank says good night to me and goes upstairs promptly. I sulk for a moment and follow suit. But before entering my room I hear faint noises coming from his room and I put my ear against his door to listen. At first I hear a groan, and then pounding noises as if his elbow is hitting the bed. The pounding gets faster and so do the groans. The final note is a loud grunt followed by what sounds like “Meg!”
Holy shit. Did I imagine it or did he just call my name when he came? I cover my mouth as I quickly retreat into my room. Lying in bed, I touch myself while replaying what Frank did to me earlier and what I heard him doing, and I come hard.
Chapter 6
Megan
The next day, Frank takes me to a boat ride as he promised. The moment he uncovers his Regal 2800 my mouth falls. It is truly a beauty with sleek lines and fluid curves. Frank says he’s owned it for five years already but it looks brand new because he’s been taking good care of it.
The boat has a wide beam and the interior is roomy, enough for five or more people.
Frank wipes the windshield with a piece of cloth and adjusts the steering wheel before sitting down at the helm. I take the seat right next to him. He’s wearing a black windbreaker over jeans, and a pair of Wayfarer with rectangular frame and dark lenses. Even without a cap, he’s the handsomest captain on earth.
Taking Frank’s advice, I wear a long-sleeve cotton shirt over shorts. The morning air is a bit chilly and I sneeze soon after I sit down.
“Are you all right? Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just the allergy.”
He reaches the sundeck and lifts the cushion, pulling out a blanket. “It’ll get windy,” he says as he covers my bare thighs with the blanket.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling warm right away, because of his caring gesture rather than the blanket.
“All aboard!” Frank declares playfully before he steers out of the slip.
I giggle and respond, “Aye, aye, captain!”
We’re going up north all the way to Redding and then back down. Frank says it’ll take us a day.
Frank turns on the stereo and plays a song on his iPhone. It sounds like one of those from the eighties that my parents like to listen.
“Sailing on the Seven Seas, OMD,” he explains. “From my sailing playlist.”
“Oh,” I say, liking it already. “Nice!”
Soon we pass through the residential area and farms and sail into the wetlands. I’ve had a boat trip with my roommates in fall along the river in the metro area, and I loved the experience. But the upper part of the river feels very different. It has more natural scenery and no man-made buildings around. It’s also a lot less crowded. We pass a couple of fishing boats, and no sight-seeing boats at all. It might also have something to do with the home-staying order.
“Look, Megan, herons,” Frank suddenly speaks to me, nodding toward the shore ahead of us.
A flock of wild birds with white feathers and large bills are bathing or feeding on a patch of grassland.
Frank steers his boat closer to the birds and they flap their wings at us. A few of them take off instantly and fly above us, looking like they are going to attack us.
I duck my head laughing and shrieking.
