Page 8 of Make Me Whole

The thought played in a loop since entering the kitchen and seeing my best friend’s daughter all grown up. The dark-haired girl from my memory was rope-thin, had a ton of freckles, pigtails, and no curves. That girl looked like a daughter while this curvy, large-breasted, long-legged and full-lipped version of Skylar looked like a sex dream. One featuring the most forbidden woman in existence.Shit.

I shoved my hands into my pockets as I forced my attention to return to Al. As usual, he was making firing the grill a lot harder than it had to be while he babbled about flirting with Lauren at the permit department to fast-track what we needed for the puke-green house.

“The girl is barely twenty, Al,” I admonished with a shake of my head.

He looked at me with an unbelieving expression. “That’s not underage. Besides, I never took you for a judgmental critic of older-man-younger-woman romance.”

And I never took words as sucker punches, but that’s exactly what those felt like. I rolled my eyes to look innocent. “I’m not. You can flirt, date, and fuck whoever you want. I’m just saying that leading a young girl on for quicker permits isn’t really keeping our business irreproachable.”

Saying that reminded me of why we had to keep our business that way, which reminded me of Skylar. And her legs. And how that flimsy yellow dress draped over her ass.Shit!

“Stick in the mud,” Al muttered, but what I heard was, “hypocritical daughter-lusting pervert.”

Yet another curse echoed inside my foggy brain. I had to take my mind off the gutter and focus on why I was there.

I was there to support my best friend and his family at a tough moment.

I was there to help my son bond with another single-parent child.

I was there to eat burgers, drink beer, and relax with my friend and his adult daughter.

I was not there to lust after said daughter and betray both my friend’s trust and the memory of my beloved wife.

Those were my rules, and I’d stick to them. I was good at that, following rules. They were safe and predictable and put me in control, all things I enjoyed. So that was what I was going to do.

My lips tugged sideways with determination, but only until the sliding doors opened and Skylar walked out carrying a cooler. Al looked at her as well and offered help she didn’t take. I liked independent women, especially the ones who were feminine as well as strong. But I liked not being forced to avoid temptation even more.

She brought the cooler to the table by the grill, removed three cans of beer, and carried them out to where Al and I were. Her brows shot up, and her honey-colored eyes narrowed at the fire.

“Oh, Daddy. Why do you have to make this so hard? It’s coal, lighter fluid, and fire. There’s no need for bread slices, dry leaves, or the stupid fan.”

“Thank you,” I said, glad that someone else agreed with my opinion over Al’s complicated technique. “I keep telling him that, but the man is as stubborn as a mule.”

She looked at me and offered a small smile along with a beer can. “I know. And like all stubborn mules he refuses to listen, which only serves to make lunch take three times longer.”

I laughed.

Al didn’t.

“Hey,” he protested in a tone that tried to be serious but couldn’t. “I put up with Max calling me names because he’s an asshole. But I demand respect from my only daughter. Besides, if I’m a stubborn mule, so are you.”

Skylar laughed, the sound warm and musical. Why did everything this woman did have to be alluring?

“I know I am. I’m your daughter, after all.” She cracked open her beer and shrugged. “But I’m only a mule about important stuff that doesn't keep hungry people from their meals.”

I watched her sashay those hips to the table, completely entranced not only by her looks but by her smartass-ness as well. She sat down on the bench and turned to watch her daughter and my son play in the tree fort Al and I had built for her twenty-two years ago.

From a distance, I could see the sadness Al had hinted at. Her eyes looked as blank and forlorn as mine had after Marge died, and though I understood the emotion, I also desperately wanted to make her forget her heartache. Shamefully, that burning desire had little to do with who her father was and everything to do with my inappropriate attraction.

Get a grip, Max.

“I give up,” Al said, giving me a needed distraction. His bread and leaf fire had died for the third time, and he tossed me the matches. “Show me how you do it.”

I chuckled and jumped right into action. At half past noon, we were only minutes away from Aiden making a scene about how hungry he was.

Kicking Skylar out of my brain and the damn wet bread from the grill, I arranged the coals just the way I liked them and drenched them in lighter fluid. Then, I added a second layer of coals and squirted some more fluid, but not as much, over them. I lit the match, threw it in, then covered the grill, leaving the vent open to allow oxygen to enter the chamber but keeping out any wind that could kill it. I tossed the matches back to Al and strutted to the table without another word.

“It can’t be that easy,” Al called from behind my back.

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