“Carter Huntington. Nice to meet you,” he replies, reaching for my hand and trying to crush it with his grip. Is this kid for real? What a tool. I’m not going to give him an inch. I maintain a cool and professional demeanor because I’m no stranger to dealing with assholes.
“You as well,” I reply flatly. I’m not about to be rude, but I’m also not rolling out the red carpet for him. Look at me, being all mature and acting like an actual grown-up despite my primal urge to throttle him.
He puts his arm around Lexi’s shoulders, and I try not to grimace as she looks up at him and giggles.
Ugh.
The hostess calls my name, and I gesture toward her as she leads us to a booth in the back. We all sit, and I observe how Carter handles the seating situation. While he’s polite and gestures for her to slide into the booth first, something about him feels off.
“Do I even need to ask what you want, Lexi?” I’m ready to order ourfavorite dinner.
“Oh, uh…” She glances at Carter and then looks back at the menu. “I’m going to have the Mexican salad with grilled chicken tonight instead.” She licks her lips and lowers her head slightly as Carter smiles at her with pride.
Strike two, douche nugget.
I try to respond in the most diplomatic way possible while resisting the urge to backhand this kid across the restaurant. “Whatever you’re hungry for, sweetie. It won’t be the same if we don’t have enchiladas, but I understand.”
Except I really don’t understand.
What I do know is that my daughter, who used to eat her favorite food without a care in the world, is now ordering a salad. I’m sure this change has everything to do with dating this guy. It’s going to test all my patience.
“Dad, I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman now. We eat differently. You can’t expect me to stay little forever.” She looks annoyed and offended, giving me a warning glare.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carter smirking like the waste of space he is, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to let my baser instincts take over my rational mind. I decide instead to ask him a few questions, knowing instinctively that he’s the type of guy who loves to talk about himself.
“So, Carter, tell me about yourself. Are you a student at DU as well?”
He perks up with a wide grin, then launches into what I know will be an entire performance—the Carter Show. Yay me! I get a front-row seat.
“Well, I’m a junior at DU, majoring in philosophy, but I plan on going to law school when I’m done here. My family is very well-off, so there are certain expectations regarding my career path,” he says with pompous pride.
Why the hell is a junior dating an incoming freshman? Huge red flag. How the heck did they even meet each other? Sure, the condo I investedin for her to use during college is close to campus, but not that close. This whole situation feels really off to me. My dad radar is pinging like crazy.
“The plan is to join the family finance firm once I finish law school.”
I can’t even with this kid.
He drones on about his family and himself—so much about himself. I nod, but I’m not listening, and God knows no one else will get a word in edgewise.
Instead, I stare at my daughter, who looks at this kid like he’s hung the moon. My heart sinks deeper as I realize she’ll not only ignore anything negative I say about him, but will get more attached to him the more I disapprove.
This leaves me with no choice but to sit here, swallow my feelings, and put on a good face, or I might lose her to a kid who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. My heart cracks because I’m not sure I can watch her get hurt and not do something about it, but if I say anything, I may lose her completely.
Fuck me.
Heading home after the worst dinner I’ve ever attended, my patience is gone, and I’m shaking with all my pent-up frustration. I know I’ll hit the heavy bag hard when I get there because all this exasperation has to go somewhere. I learned long ago that the gym is the best place for getting through these feelings—the only person getting hurt there is me.
Even at my age, I’m not over the urge to punch something when I’m this worked up. I’m taping my hands before my workout, thinking that maybe men never really grow up. It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter Five
Joslyn
Jacob stops by my office to check in before heading out for the evening. After a couple of weeks, we’re getting into a work routine. It’s almost seven o’clock, but I know he likes to connect at the end of the day, and I appreciate it too. This is the only time we can talk without interruptions.
His blond hair slightly tousled from a long day of meetings and stress, he flops down into the chair in front of Kurt’s old desk and frowns. Abby lifts her head from her bed in the corner and trots over to Jacob, knowing he likely has a treat for her—he usually does. He’s a softie when it comes to my pupper.
“Please tell me you’re getting rid of this horrendous furniture,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he strokes Abby’s soft ears. “I’ve always hated these chairs.”
