Wyatt
Ihad no idea what possessed me to hit up Rory about going to a gay club, but we’d set a time for later, so now I had to show up.
“Dad, are you paying attention?” Harper asked.
Guilt flushed through me at once. She’d come over because I’d promised to show her how to sand and finish a dresser she’d found for her apartment at a junk sale. The wood was quality, and we could turn it into a pretty piece with little effort. Except my brain kept wandering to a certain piercer she worked with, who was far too young for me and had opened a whole locked box on sexuality I’d never bothered to sort through.
“Yeah, it’s fully sanded now. Did you decide what stain you wanted?” I asked, nudging at the five different types I’d brought out. Harper blew her bangs out of her face, which threw me right back to her doing the same at six years old. Yet now she was twenty-one with blue hair, and was pierced and tattooed. Piercing wasn’t her final destination—she wanted to be a vet—but ithad been a worthwhile detour while she figured herself out. And even if she did decide she wanted to work at Alchemy for the rest of her life, Susie and I would just be happy to see her thriving.
“This one,” she said, plunking down a nice espresso stain.
“Good choice.” That’d look great on the style of dresser and would also fit with the décor in her bedroom. “Ready to get to work?”
“Yep,” she said, unscrewing the cap and grabbing a paintbrush. Harper dove right in, the way she did everything—so opposite from me. At least until recently. We both settled into the rhythm of work. Staining wood was a meditative practice for me at this point, but instead of my mind blanking out, it kept rolling in the direction of a certain guy I’d be seeing later tonight.
“You know,” Harper said, painting away. “You’re allowed to get back out there, Dad.”
I blinked and froze mid-paint. Nerves prickled through me. She couldn’t see my thoughts, which was my only solace right now, because the ones I was having about Rory…well, they’d been getting filthier by the day. And a week out from having my dick pierced, I wasn’t in any place to even do anything about them. No relief for the wicked…or horny, for that matter. “I’m making steps.”
Harper passed me a look. “Getting your dick pierced isn’t the same as dating.”
My brows wrinkled. “I thought you weren’t aware of what I got pierced?”
“Rory has a big mouth. I found out the next day at work, despite me shoving my fingers in my ears and shouting ‘la, la, la.’”
I snorted. That sounded accurate for Rory Brannon. I bit the inside of my cheek to avoid giving too much away on that front. “And what’s caused this sudden interest in my dating life?”
Harper shrugged. “Mom’s already dating Zack, and seeing her happy, well…I don’t know, I guess I realized how much you guys were both coasting for years.”
“Ouch, kiddo,” I said, leaning in on a few swipes of the paintbrush. My heart squeezed tight. She wasn’t wrong. Susie and I had been driving on cruise control for so long, and at this point I figured love was out of the picture for me entirely. Dating seemed daunting as hell, and instead of trying to find someone new, I was getting my cock pierced and going to a gay bar.
When Harps said she wanted me to put myself out there, I didn’t think that was what she meant.
“I’m not trying to be a nag,” she said, finishing her section of stain. “I just…” She blew out a breath and looked around my apartment, which was far smaller than the house she’d grown up in.
When Susie and I had gotten our divorce, we’d agreed to sell it, give ourselves a financial cushion while we figured out where we wanted to go with our lives. Honestly, that had probably been harder for Harper than finding out we were splitting up. To that, she’d just said, “It’s about time.”
“You’re being a caring daughter,” I said. “And I’m working on it. You know I’ve always been slower with change than your mom.”
Harper lifted an eyebrow. “I mean, your piercing’s a pretty significant change.”
I shrugged. “A piercing, a tattoo—those just involve a little bit of pain. Not even in the same range as putting myself out there and discovering what a cringe old guy I am now.”
“You might be a cringe old guy, but you’ve got a lot to offer the right girl,” Harper said, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So if that means you need help getting on a dating app…”
I lifted my hands, brush still in one. “Nope. Hell no. I’m not having my daughter set up my dating profile for me.”
“Then get on it, old man.” She stood up and surveyed our work. “Looks good.”
“If I haven’t gone on any dates in a month, I’ll set up a dating profile,” I said. Not something I looked forward to, but Harps knew me. The concept was uncomfortable, which meant I’d put it off as long as humanly possible.
“Deal,” Harper said, sticking out her hand. I shook on it, careful not to smudge the paintbrush in my other hand on anything. “All right, is it okay if I leave this to dry here? I’ve got a dinner to go to with my gaming group.”
“Why do you think we painted in my apartment?” I said, snagging her paintbrush and then heading over to my sink. I tossed them in and then grabbed the turpentine from beneath the sink. “Clearly another excuse to get my daughter to hang out with me again.”
Harper knocked her shoulder with mine. “You never need an excuse with me. But I still think you should get out there and date.”
“What about you?” I asked, needing to throw the attention off me. Truly, I hated attention and much preferred to chill in the background of most situations. “When are you going to bring home someone for Mom and me to meet?”
