I’ve never been more out of place in my goddamn life.

How the hell do people fit in these auditorium chairs? The metal armrests dig into my sides and no amount of shifting dislodges them. I rummaged through my closet and found a dress jacket, but it’s snug around the shoulders. I’m seconds from ripping it if I stretch the wrong way.

What am I doing here? I should be picking up work, getting a spot on a crew until crab season picks up again in the fall—and staying the hell off of dry land. It’s what I do every year. Usually I take some time off right after crab season. But right now, I need to jump on anything to keep me away from Clara. Clara and the tight, virgin cunt she offered me.

Can’t take it. Won’t. I’m only here because someone should be supporting her on this important night. Couldn’t her mother book the vacation for one day after the showcase? Are they inconsiderate of Clara often? I don’t like that shit at all. For the last two days, I’ve thought a lot about what she told me. Not to mention what my brother said. They call her a daydreamer. Ridiculous. A baby. What other kinds of insults do they throw at this sweet girl?

And God, is she sweet. Not just her taste, but the way she pressed her face to my legs while I argued with my brother. Like…she was on my side. When has anyone ever been on my side? Unconditionally.

Never.

I shake off the unpleasant thoughts when the lights go out, soft classical music beginning to play. A group of ballerinas prance onto the stage. Soon as I confirm none of them are my niece, I begin scrolling through my text messages, the top one from a fisherman buddy of mine, Hank, inviting me on a hunting trip. Tomorrow.

I haven’t answered him yet, but common sense tells me I need to go. If I hang around town any longer, I’m going to find myself between two extremely off-limits thighs. Damn. If she hadn’t been so eager, hadn’t shown so much interest…I still would have found her fucking exquisite, but keeping it in my pants wouldn’t have been such a challenge. Knowing she wants it has my cock in a permanent upright position. Goddamn, she’s a sweet little thing. Can’t believe she wants me.

The memory of my brother’s angry face fades into another, angrier face from my past. My father’s. And before I can talk myself out of it, I respond to the text message, letting Hank know I’ll meet him at the lodge tomorrow morning. It’s only about an hour’s drive up the mountain, but I’ll have to leave bright and early if I want to catch them before their first outing. I can control myself long enough to watch Clara perform, congratulate her and go.

I like everything about you.

I’m distracted by the memory of Clara’s words and how they twist my stomach up when I notice murmuring around me. Music has been playing on the stage, but it cuts out now, a man in a tuxedo jogging out with a microphone. “Please excuse us while we take a short break,” he says, wiping sweat off his forehead. “The showcase will resume in a few minutes.”

“Here we go again,” someone behind me says with a chuckle. “What do you think she did this time? Ankle sprain? Ran into a pole?”

I need no further proof they’re talking about Clara. She’s hurt? Backstage? With a glare at the shit-heads behind me —damn right I memorize their faces — I stand and squeeze my way down the row, trying not to step on anyone’s feet, but obviously failing since I keep hearing outraged yelps. Whispers follow me down the side row toward the door I hope leads backstage, but I’m only concerned with reaching Clara. Finding out what the hell is wrong and fixing it.

One step through the door and I come up short at a curtain. There’s a skinny fellow guarding it with a clipboard, but I ignore his sputtering and breeze on past. Soon as I’m on the other side, I see her. She’s on the floor, a lacy, pink skirt poofed out around her outstretched legs. Her shoulders are shuddering up and down as she tries to unwrap a Band-Aid. It’s only then I see the gash on her knee. I also notice there’s a bunch of girls her age standing in a circle around her, looking peeved and useless. No one is helping her—and that shit kicks up a fuss in my damn belly.

Clipboard man storms past me and wheels around. “You can’t be here, sir.”

“You want to eat that clipboard?”

He turns white. “No, sir.”

“Then fuck off,” I growl, shouldering my way past him.

I’m almost to Clara when she looks up, beaming at me with a thousand-watt smile. “You came.”

“Yeah.” Damn, she makes my ribs feel funny. Especially in that sparkly getup with all that glitter on her eyes. I’m not sure I can speak right yet, so I pull a bandana out of my back pocket and crouch down, pressing it to the bloody cut. I expect her to wince or start crying, but she just keeps on gazing at me with stars in her eyes. “Hold this down and stop the bleeding. I’ll open the Band-Aid.”

She does as she’s told…and my cock likes her obedience way too much. Likes it even more when I rip the Band-Aid open with my teeth and she gasps, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin material of her costume. “We’ve got an audience, Clara,” I mutter.

“What would you do if we didn’t?” she whispers back.

Probably pry your legs open and rut like a death row inmate. “Nothing,” I say, grateful my voice sounds firm. I ease the bandana away and, satisfied the bleeding has stopped, I smooth the Band-Aid over her cut. “It hurt much, girl?”

“Not anymore.”

This is why I have to get out of town. She’s making it impossible to do the right thing. And the right thing is definitely not letting my attention travel up her bare thighs where they disappear into all that poofy, pink material. As if she senses me looking, she spreads them just a couple of inches and there it is. There’s her untapped pussy, covered in nothing but a narrow path of stretched pink silk. She’s just looking for a Daddy, my little niece. Isn’t she? Someone to bandage up her injuries and kiss her princess mouth.

Not me. It can’t be me. Not only am I related to her by marriage, but I’m too old and my soul is too black. She’s the purest thing on this earth.

Steeling myself against the attraction, I take Clara’s hands and help her stand up. I’ve been so absorbed in her, I’ve forgotten all about the mean-looking girls hanging around, sneering with their arms crossed. Clara must notice, too, because she hunches her shoulders. Which I don’t like one bit. Turning toward the bitch crew, I bare my teeth at them and growl—loud—sending them running.

“S-s-sir, you really must leave now,” stammers Clipboard Man, to my right, half of him hidden behind the curtain. “It’s just policy—”

“I’ll leave when I’m damn well ready.” I wait for his enthusiastic nod, before facing a giggling Clara again. Man, even her laugh sounds innocent. Untouched. Beautiful. “You going to be able to dance?” I manage.

“Yes,” she murmurs, smoothing her hands down the tight top of her costume. “Will you stay afterward? Please?”

Despite the eyes on us, I can’t help moving closer, trying to count the sparkles on her eyelids. “You know I shouldn’t.”

“You saved my night.” Her skirt brushes my legs and my dick turns to swollen, hanging meat. “You made everything better and I just want to say thank you.”

“Say it now,” I grit out. “Words only.”

She shakes her head, mischief shining in her eyes. “See you later, Uncle Rex.”

I have to untuck my shirt to cover my vicious cock-stand, just so I can return to my seat. Everyone watches me curiously as the music starts once again, but as soon as Clara takes the stage, I see nothing but her, encased in glowing white light.

My life has been nothing but grit. Ropes, crab traps, icy death, danger. Before I started my career crabbing, I bounced at biker bars where I witnessed the shitty side of humanity on a regular basis. Ugly. All I’ve seen is ugliness. All I’ve heard is anger and cynicism. But watching Clara float around the stage like an angel, all the hardness inside me crumbles. Dear God, who knew this kind of beauty existed?

I know I should leave now, because there’s more here than inappropriate lust for something I can’t have. There’s…more. I want her smiles. Her trust. I want to scare off people who are mean to her. Tuck her into my arms at night. But none of that is possible, so I need to leave. Do my best to put Clara out of my mind.

But I remain glued to the seat, knowing—knowing—I’ll be staying after to get her thank you.