Page 5 of Dean Daddy

“Then you might need to drive me home every night until spring because I don’t think I’ll be able to afford a car before then,” she giggles.

“That was my plan,” I wink at her and she smiles.

We walk through the quad and pass the freshmen who are lined up for football tryouts. One of the testosterone-riddled teenagers looks Marcie up and down and whistles at her. She stiffens and looks down at the sidewalk, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. But then, he shouts, “Man, I had no idea the selection of pussy here was gonna be this fine.”

I spin on my heels and rush back toward him like a bull who’s seen red. He sees me and tries to duck behind two larger boys who are ahead of him in line. When I reach them, I shove the two bigger boys to the side and stand towering over the little punk with my chest bowed and biceps flexed.

“What did you say?” I ask him.

“I didn’t mean anything. It was just a joke, sir,” he stutters.

“This is my campus and on my campus, little pricks like you treat women with respect. If you can’t do that, you can go home and explain to your rich daddy how his failure to house-train you cost you your education.”

“I said I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry,” he crosses his arms and pouts like a spoiled toddler.

“You see that girl over there?” I whisper.

“Yes.”

“This is the last time that you will ever look at her. If you see her coming, you turn around and walk the other way. Clear?” I growl.

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

I do my best to compose myself before rejoining Marcie.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, stunned by my behavior.

“Everything is fine. I just needed to remind him how we treat women,” I reply.

4

DINNER WITH MASON

MARCIE

This day has been a whirlwind and I haven’t had a second to catch my breath. I thought that I was coming to meet the stuffy, old son of my mother’s new husband and, hopefully, get a job out of the deal. I didn’t expect to find myself entrenched in sexual tension with the most attractive man that I’d ever laid eyes on.

Things like this don’t happen to me and I wonder if we’re moving too fast. I would be devastated if this flame burned out too soon. If I wasn’t already sure that Mason wasn’t a womanizer, his reaction to that boy catcalling me would have confirmed it. I have to confess that seeing him come to my defense that way was a major turn-on. I guess every girl, no matter how independent she is, secretly wants a big, strong man to protect her.

By the time we sit down for dinner, I’m absolutely putty in his hands. He could tell me that we’re going to rob a bank after dessert and I’d ask him where I can buy a ski mask.

“So, do you get home to see your father very often?” I ask, hoping that some mindless small talk will prevent me from saying something stupid.

“I don’t. My job keeps me very busy,” he replies.

“Were you close when you were younger?”

He side-eyes me as though I may have struck a nerve and says, “My father was an athlete in his youth. With my size and ability, he expected me to be retiring from pro football about now. You know, fame, mansions, commercial deals, and millions in the bank? He wasn’t shy about telling me that teaching was a waste of my talents.”

“I’m sorry. My mother was pretty demanding, too. She wanted me to go to a local college but not so much to graduate. Just until I found a nice stock broker or lawyer to marry. She was never a big fan of female empowerment.” I stop myself and add a quick disclaimer, “She’s not a gold digger or anything like that. I’m sure she loves your father very much.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. He’s an adult and I have no desire to meddle in his affairs. I don’t think he’s going to pay us the same courtesy, though.”

“So, you see this turning into something that we’ll have to tell them about?” I ask, silently praying for a positive answer.

“I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t.” He breaks out with a huge grin and starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, terrified that he’s going to tell me that he was joking.

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