Page 44 of Topping the Jock
“Oh my fucking god, Dad.” I put my hands over my face. Mortified. At no age would I ever be comfortable enough talking to my dad about sex.
He laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop. You’re beet red. Was I right, though? You talking to a new guy?”
Years after coming out to my dad, and it still made my heart jump into my throat sometimes when he talked about me dating men with such ease.
I shrugged. “Tell me your news and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Well, you got me there.” He wiped his mouth and sat back in his chair, scratching at the light stubble on his cheek. “I might have a new lady friend.”
“A lady friend?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
Dad hadn’t dated anyone in a long time. After my mom died when I was four, he’d devoted all his time to taking care of me. When I got older, he dated a few women here and there but never stayed with any of them long. It had been years since I’d last heard him talk about being interested in anyone.
“Justa friend,” he clarified, though I didn’t believe him for a second. “We’re takin’ things slow. Now your turn. Who are ya talking to?”
“No one special,” I said, not sure if I was trying to convince him or me of that fact. Dad didn’t like Monty because of the years when he’d bullied me. He wouldn’t be happy knowing that’s who I was banging. Hell,Ishouldn’t even allow it to happen.
“He’s special enough to make you smile like a goofball.”
“I wasn’t smiling,” I denied, dropping my gaze to the half-eaten burger.
“Uh-huh. Right.” Dad stood from the table and started putting up the leftover food.
I got up to help him. We didn’t talk any more about our dating lives. Dad and I shared a lot, but both of us could be pretty closed off. After spending most of the day with him, I drove to the store to pick up groceries for the upcoming week.
Guess who was also there.
I walked down the aisle with my cart, stopping in place when I saw Monty straight ahead, scrutinizing the selection of meat at the deli. He held thinly cut turkey in one hand and honey ham in the other.
“Go with the turkey,” I said, unable to stop myself from approaching him.
He turned at my voice and instantly broke out into a smile. He wore a backward hat, a blue hoodie, and dark gray sweatpants—aka a gift from the gods. Not that I looked at his crotch or anything. “Quinn. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well, I am human. We all need groceries to survive.”
“Wait, you’re human?” he asked, tilting his head in an adorable way. “I thought you were the Fuckbot 2000. My bad.”
With my face going hot, I swept a look around us, making sure no one was in hearing range. I wanted to smack him for that unfiltered mouth. Then grab him by his hoodie, shove him against the wall, and kiss those fucking sweet lips again.
“Can you not say crap like that in public?” I hissed.
His grin widened. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, you look sorry.”
“Ham?” He offered it to me. “A symbol of our peace.”
“I don’t like ham.”
Monty held the turkey meat closer to his chest. “But this is the last one.”
“You can have it,” I said.
“You really don’t like ham?” he asked, placing the meat back on the shelf.
“I don’t like bacon either.”
“You don’t like bacon?” He flipped around in shock. “What kind of monster are you?”
