I head back downstairs, my stomach growling.

I dread the moment I come face to face with my dad’s new squeeze; I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready for it, no matter what I’ve told myself.

Plus, I do actually love my dad and want to support him—he’s the only parent I have left, for crying out loud; I can’t exactly hate him.

But I am still pretty ticked at him.

He assured me the woman I’m meeting isn’t the same one I caught him with but is this new one young enough to be his daughter too?

“Ah, this must be Emma,” a mature feminine voice says.

My eyes lock on its owner—a dignified-looking older woman, definitely age-appropriate.

She looks about the same age range as my dad—somewhere in the fifties—and she seems to be aging gracefully, embracing stereotypical old lady elegance with her pearls and controlled smile and stiffly (but perfectly) styled hair.

“She’s even prettier in person,” she continues as she turns to my dad.

I finally get to the bottom of the stairs and head toward them, my hand out for a handshake, a smile peeled across my face.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, the last word almost smothered as she pulls me to her.

“My dear, I’m a hugger,” she says as she grips me to her.

She’s pretty damn strong.

I politely accept the hug, stopping myself from screaming “Stranger danger!” since I don’t think anyone would appreciate my humor at this moment.

She has nice eyes, I noticed—sort of hazel-green, and highlighted by heavy dark mascara, a contrast to her bleached hair.

I take a closer look at her.

My family has lived fairly comfortably, the household net worth in the low seven-figure range, and this woman looks like she came from a family that is at least that. Eight figures most likely. She has a certain polish and bearing.

Her ex-husband must’ve been very rich.

“This is Daisy Masters,” my dad says with barely contained pride.

“We were expecting you this evening,” she begins, but I glance at my dad, unable to stop myself.

It’s the “we” that got me—she said it like this is her house.

“I like to think she couldn’t wait to see me again,” my dad says with a huge grin. “Last time I saw her was…when was it, honey?”

I take a moment to think. When was it, actually?

After dropping out of college, I got my own place, made my one-year plan to live adventurously (which stretched to two years) and didn’t bother to come home for any holidays again.

I called him on his birthday, Christmas, Father’s Day—but when was the last time I actually dropped by?

Time was so weird back then—it was hard to mark days and weeks as usual.

I shrug. “I really don’t know,” I say honestly.

“I think it’s been two years. Anyway, I know you’re starving—let’s eat. Everything’s all set outside.”

I have to force myself not to sprint out there, reminding myself it’s probably a good idea to at least seem like a civilized lady, no matter how much I’m starving or how laughable the idea of me being a lady is.

My mom could be described as a lady, but me? I pretty much went from tomboy to drifter.

A memory from this class my mom made me take suddenly comes back to me—me trying desperately to keep a book on my head as I walk.

It almost makes me laugh, but it simultaneously saddens me.

* * *

I sigh when I see the way everything’s arranged.

I’m not used to this shit—sandwiches and whatnot laid out all pretty.

Maybe when I was younger, but after college and then couch-surfing and Airbnb-ing the past two years, I’m pretty used to tasty, sloppy food, however, wherever. In generous servings.

I’m almost mad at how small some of these sandwich pieces are, but I’m too busy stuffing my face.

“Wow, special catered lunch,” I try to say, but it comes out like conversational growls since my mouth is full.

There I go—nailing being a lady again!

I finish chewing, and swallow, clearing my mouth for proper communication.

“Dad, is this how you’ve been living? Just overpaying to eat in order to have someone do it all for you?”

“Well, obviously I do still have our cook, but today is a special day, in fact.”

He glances at Daisy, who reacts almost like a teenager with her delighted restrained grin.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, my hands closing over some crackers.

“We’ll tell you everything at dinner,” my dad says.

“Oh, we might as well just tell her now,” Daisy says excitedly.

They have my full attention now, the crackers, cheese, and salami temporarily forgotten.

She’s probably not pregnant, so…

“We’re getting married,” my dad says with a wide, joyous smile.

Daisy joins in and does an adorable little clap.

Somehow, she is bursting with joy but it’s still restrained. How does she do that?

I can’t help but feel happy for them, even in the fog of my confusion since they’re both…glowing, I guess.

“Oh,” I say, then quickly remembering my manners, “congratulations! When did it happen?”

“Steven proposed two weeks ago, and he wanted to make sure you and I got to meet you before you took another trip—maybe out of the country.”

“Yes, I saw you were pretty near here…”

“How?”

“On your…what is it? Instagram.”

“You follow me on Instagram?”

“How else would I get to see you? I just like to know that you’re okay. I had someone show me how to do it, and I’m still not sure how to actually use it, but I can see your page. Anyway, we both hope you’re able to come to the wedding—we know it’s rather short notice. We have your invitation inside, so save the date if you can…”

“Hi. Can I get a mimosa?” I ask, turning to the nearest server standing there all crisp and silent.

“Sure thing,” he says, with a blindingly white smile.

I can feel my dad and Daisy staring at me.

I think I’m handling everything pretty damned well if you ask me.

I turn to them with a smile. “I’ll make sure to be there, Dad—wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say.

“Oh, good,” my dad says. “I was worried you’d be in Hawaii or Japan or something. I know you’re very serious about your trips, and I hope we won’t be in the way…”

Again, guilt stabs me.

Part of me suspects he’s just manipulating me, playing the wounded parent, but he sounds pretty sincere about missing me and wishing he could hear from me more often.

I think I’m actually hurting his feelings, and it never really occurred to me before, I was so lost in my own grief.

“My son will be there too, but maybe you two can meet before then. How long are you in town?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, my. Very flexible schedule. What is it you do exactly?”

My hackles raise.

“Oh, she…she’s been exploring possibilities,” my dad says, and I appreciate the save, but I’m still on guard.

Especially since he’s usually the one trying to probe me about the same thing, or push me into having an answer to that question.

“Oh, so you’re unemployed? I just assumed you were a travel writer or something,” Daisy says with a friendly smile. “If you happen to be on the lookout for something steady, my son is actually the head of a company in the area you currently live in, as I understand it.”

She shrugs casually, trying to appear super chill about what just happened.

“I appreciate it…” I begin, with a shake of my head.

“So do I, Daisy. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, one way or another. Something different, aye, sweetie?”

He’s smiling at me, his eyes pleading with me and guilt hits me again.

“Sure,” I say in quiet defeat.

“Oh, here’s a picture of my Danny,” Daisy says, whipping out her phone.

She unlocks it and brings up a photo of her son, and it takes everything in me to keep it together as the wind gets knocked out of me.

Fuck my life—it’s the man from last night!

Daisy looks up at me after the silence stretches on for a few moments, alerting me that I’d missed my social cue.

“Oh, I’m just so shocked. He’s so handsome, Daisy! Looks like he’s got your eyes.”

She beams as she puts the phone away.

My mimosa arrives just in time.

“Thank you,” I say to the server. Then I turn back to the older couple. “Listen, I’m super tired from the drive. I’m going up to take a nap.”

“Will you be down for dinner?” Dad asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say, as I start to head off, “But definitely for breakfast. We can carry on then.”

* * *

How’s this supposed to work exactly? I wonder as I re-enter my old bedroom.

Danny—oh, great, now I know his full name—Danny Masters is not only not going to become a vague pleasant memory, he’s going to be firmly planted in my life now via my dad!

You know what? I’m overthinking it.

We had one great night, and I’m sure he’ll be smart enough to do as I plan to do—pretend it never happened. In front of the parental units, that is.

We’re two grown-ass adults, anyway—no need for our paths to even cross more than maybe once a year.

Well, except now my dad made me agree to work with him.

Fuck!

But it’s not like I’ll be working with him specifically—we might not even see each other that much, depending on the nature of my job and the nature of his.

He’s probably in some top floor suite most of the time, and I’ll be in some cubicle or…I don’t know—I’ve never actually held a job like this so it’ll be an interesting change of pace for sure.

I don’t know why my dad insists I get a job—I don’t need one!

Not yet, anyway.

I think about what Daisy said—about Danny coming to the wedding—and seeing him there all dressed up, looking scrumptious in some killer suit.

It makes sense now why he looked sort of off in that bar—sounds like the guy is loaded. Not that rich guys don’t hit up seedy bars or anything, but Danny didn’t seem to be a sleazy, partying type.

I wonder what brought him to that bar in the first place? Was it a dare or something?

Either way, I’m glad he showed up—what could have ended up a disastrous, depressing night ended up being delightful and delicious instead.

Ahhhh…

I lie on my back on my bed, letting myself smile at the memory again, replaying our meeting.

The sound of his rich tenor voice, the intensity of his hazel-green eyes, the delicious masculine scent emanating from him. Those broad shoulders, his hard, sculpted chest and abs, and that long, thick cock…

Before I know it, I’ve slipped a hand under my jeans and panties, and I’ve started rubbing myself to his memory, the tips of my fingers playing with my sensitive folds.

I start getting wet as I remember being naked on the bed, completely exposed to him, my pussy dripping with need as I sucked his huge cock, my nude, perky breasts aching for his touch.

I slide my finger to my clit, remembering him hovering over me, thinking about that cock pointed between my legs. I remember it entering my slick, tingling pussy, then driving in and out of my welcoming cavern with delicious rhythmic force. I recall his firm ass cheeks squeezing beneath my palms as I hold his ass while he plowed me hard and deep…

A small gasp of orgasm escapes me, and even though pleasurable pulsations are now moving through me, I feel so damned dirty.

I just came to the thought of my future stepbrother.