The Single Dad: Girl’s Sexual Awakening

“Jesus,” Ford said as I climbed into his car, his stare covering the whole length of me. Each inch he rose, starting at my feet, caused tingles to burst in my chest. “You look stunning, Sydney.”

“You’re sweet.”

The intensity in his eyes, the hungriness in his lips told me Gabby had chosen the right outfit.

Even after I put on my seat belt, he stayed double-parked along the curb.

Unmoving.

Except for his eyes, still traveling, still taking me in like I was a feast.

“Damn it,” he said, shaking his head, a slight moan coming from his throat before he leaned across the middle of the car. Rather than go for my lips, he went for my cheek. He kissed it softly, keeping his lips there, breathing me in.

I didn’t mind.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I was doing the same to him.

Refreshing my memory with the scent of his cologne. The citrus tones I remembered from the morning after the bar, the way it had lingered on his shirt when I put on his button-down.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” He whispered those words against my cheek, sending a shiver through me.

One that made my skin turn hot. One that made me quiver.

My body felt like a rose, each petal opening, the layers peeling back until I was bare.

Ready.

Oh God.

As he moved back, his eyes finding me, not letting me go, I replied, “You make it pretty easy to say yes.”

A smile crossed his lips, and he shifted into first, pulling onto the road.

I took a deep breath, waiting for the nerves to settle. “Where are we going?”

“A favorite place of mine.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I promise I wasn’t only thinking of myself when I booked it.” He glanced at me while he approached the light, his tongue skimming his bottom lip. “You’re going to love it there.”

“Do you go to this magical foodie place often?”

He laughed. “If I’m being honest, I don’t get out as often as I’d like. Normally, my brothers and friends drag me to a meal or drinks, like the night we met.”

Because of Everly.

That made perfect sense.

When I’d been in Manhattan with the Turners, they had been the same. Most of our meals eaten at home. But when we were traveling, all we did was eat out. During the four years I’d worked for them, we’d been in LA several times, always dining at the best restaurants. One meal in particular was a dinner I’d never forget.

I closed my eyes, recalling their meatballs as I said, “The best food I’ve ever had here was at-”

“Origin’s,” we both said at the same time.

I felt a warmth come across my cheeks. “Sounds like we have similar taste in food.”

His fingers brushed against the outside of my hand, where it was resting on my thigh. “That’s where we’re going tonight.”

“You’ve got me excited.” In more ways than just food, I thought. “Admittedly, I was never a foodie until four years ago,” I told him. “I learned to try new things, challenge my taste buds. Now, I crave things that I never would have dreamed of eating before.”

“Oh yeah?” He looked at me again before he changed lanes. “Tell me about your family. Were you born and raised in LA?”

“I was, which seems so rare nowadays.”

“Seems we have that in common too.”

I grinned even though he couldn’t see me. “My parents are both CPAs and own their own accounting firm. I have an older brother who lives in Denver. We’re a small but close family. My parents wish my brother and I-or at least one of us-loved numbers as much as them. Sadly, we didn’t inherit that gene. In fact, numbers loathe me.”

He laughed. “So, if numbers aren’t your thing, what is?”

“Education.”

“You’re a teacher?”

I sighed. “I will be.”

Words that made our age difference and place in life even more apparent.

“I realize I don’t know you that well, but the way you were with my daughter tells me you’re going to be an exceptional teacher.”

“Thank you.” I folded the sleeves of my jean jacket, my hands busy, fidgety, as I continued, “It’s funny; my parents do the books and taxes for so many wealthy people in this city. They never say names at the dinner table, just numbers and their earnings. I have no desire to make that kind of money. I just want to be around kids and make a difference in their lives.” I glanced out the passenger window, recalling the feeling in my heart when I’d submitted my UCLA application, bringing me one step closer to my dream job. “I want to help mold them into wonderful little humans. I think it’s often forgotten that kids are the most important people in our world. They’re our future. I just wish education got more credit and had more resources, so kids had every chance to succeed with endless opportunities at their disposal.” I stopped, realizing I was going on a mini rant. “Sorry. Clearly, I’m extremely passionate about this.”

“Can Everly be in your class? For the rest of her education?” He gazed at me again, his stare honest and genuine. “I’m serious.”

“I appreciate that.” My fingers halted but immediately started right back up, now playing with the end of the sleeve. “Except I have no classroom. I’m working on that part. You know, once I finish the next four years of college.”

His eyes widened. “Does that mean you just graduated high school?”

“No, no.” I giggled a little, realizing he thought I was only eighteen. “I’m twenty-two years old. High school was four years ago.”

I saw the relief and felt it when his hand moved on top of mine, squeezing my fingers. I could feel the sweat forming on my palm.

“Something tells me you’re going to work your ass off and get that degree much faster than you think.”