Page 40 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
Ryder takes my hand. “Hey, just breathe, okay?”
I shake my head. “You don’t know Paul.”
“What’s he going to do?”
I shrug. “Who knows? When I started dating Derek, Paul lost his damn mind. Got jealous, tried to tell me I wasn’t allowed to date anyone, wasn’t allowed to bring other guys around Nate without his permission, all sorts of crazy bullshit. Really, it only ended when Derek and I broke up—the entire time we were dating, Paul was a mess.” I sigh and rub my face. “And now it’s going to start all over again.”
“He’s still possessive of you? And you’ve been divorced how long?”
“Rationality has never been Paul’s strong suit.”
Ryder squeezes my hand. “It’ll be okay.”
I laugh weakly. “Well, at least one of us thinks so.”
Chapter 8
We pull to a stop along the curb in front of Paul’s house. I exit the car and head for the front door, but before I’m halfway there, Nate bursts out the door at a run.
“Mom!” He slams into me. “You’re finally here! Come on! We gotta go!” He glances past me. “Wait—where’s your car?”
I hesitate. “Um. I’ll explain later. For now, we’re riding in this, okay?”
Nate peers across the lawn. “Is that the guy you went on a date with?”
“Can we talk about this in the car?”
“Are you sure that’s a safe vehicle for our son to be in?” I hear Paul from behind me. “Some of those old cars don’t even have seatbelts.”
I work at remaining calm. “I need your booster.”
Paul eyes the shiny orange classic BMW. “We talked about this. You have to tell me when you’re dating someone new.”
I groan. “You talked about this—I don’t have to do anything. We are divorced, Paul. I can do what I want with my life, see who I want, when I want, and I don’t owe you anything.” Nate is watching very carefully, listening to every word. “We have to go. May I please borrow your booster seat?”
“I should meet him, at least.”
I grind my teeth together. “Sure. When we’re not running late.”
“Yeah, well…whose fault is that?”
“Mine. I admit it. Now quit being difficult, please. Just get me your booster so I can get Nate to practice on time.”
Paul eyes me. “I never liked the last guy you dated. He was sleazy.”
“If I want your opinion on who I date, I’ll ask.”
“Mom, Dad, can you quit arguing, please?” Nate glares at Paul. “I have to be on time for practice, Dad. Can you please just get my booster seat?”
Paul grumbles under his breath, but he heads for his garage and returns with Nate’s booster. He hands it to me, and his eyes as he does so are troubled—and troubling. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he mutters.
I move toward Ryder’s car, pulling open the rear passenger door and lever the booster seat into position. Nate climbs in and buckles up. I can tell he’s tense and unhappy.
Straightening, I move to slide into the front seat, but Paul’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Laurel.”
I pull away from him. “What, Paul?”
“We need to talk.”
I shake my head. “No, we don’t. There’s nothing to talk about.”
He grinds his jaw, frowning. “It doesn’t have to be now.” He glances into the car, at Ryder. “Next time you bring Nate over.”
I sigh. “We’ll see.”
He growls angrily. “Laurel, come on. I’m asking for a few minutes of your time.”
“We have to go. Nate is going to be late.” I sink into the deep bucket seat and buckle up. “Next time I drop Nate off, we can talk, okay?”
He backs away. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
I close my door, and Ryder glances at me, then at Nate.
“Everyone buckled?” he asks.
“Yes,” I bite out. “Let’s go, please.”
Ryder just nods, once. “You got it.”
He doesn’t say a word after that, and the next few minutes are tensely silent.
Nate is the one to break it. “This is a cool car.”
Pulling to a stop at a red light, Ryder twists to face Nate. “Thanks, man.” He extends a hand. “I’m Ryder.”
Nate takes Ryder’s hand and shakes it—I can tell by the focused grimace on Nate’s face that he’s squeezing as hard as he can. “I’m Nate.”
Ryder laughs, playfully shaking his hand when Nate lets go. “Quite a grip you got there, dude.”
Nate shrugs. “My dad told me to always use a good strong grip.”
Ryder laughs again. “I don’t know man, it kinda felt like you were trying to break my hand.” He shakes it out again. “Seriously. That’s my shifting hand.”
“What kind of car is this?” Nate asks—he’s nonplussed by Ryder’s attempts to charm him, it seems.
“It’s a BMW.”
“Did you build it yourself?”
Ryder nods. “Yeah. Well, I didn’t build it, per se, I restored it.”
“Did it take you a long time?”
“About a year.”
Nate is eying Ryder closely. “So, what do you do?”
“For work?” Ryder glances at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m an electrician. What about you?”
