Here With Me: An Ex-boyfriend’s Dad, Age Gap Small Town Romance (Sugarland Creek Book 1)

“Goddamn, you little hottie.” Magnolia whistles after she barges through my door and sees me in my dinner outfit. “You dressin’ up for Jase or Daddy Fisher?”

I roll my eyes when she waggles her brows. “What’d I say ’bout callin’ him that?”

“You’re tellin’ me you didn’t scream that when he was balls deep inside you? Because if not, that’s a tragedy.”

I scoff, grabbing my heels and sitting on the edge of the bed. “No, a tragedy is what this dinner is gonna end in if Jase figures out what we did.”

“Speakin’ of, you left me with blue ovaries after your text last night. So spill the rest of the juicy details. What happened after Tripp caught y’all?”

“He didn’t catch anythin’. But he woulda had he come twenty seconds later…”

“I knew it!” she squeals.

I was moments away from begging Fisher to kiss me, but a part of me doesn’t want to know if he would’ve or not. The logical side of me knows we shouldn’t. It’d make everything more complicated than it already is, but the needy side of me wants his mouth and hands on me again.

When he whispered in my ear, my entire body shivered in anticipation. Over twenty-four hours later, I can still feel his warm breath tickling down my neck.

“Doesn’t matter because nothin’ happened or can happen again.” Once my shoes are on, I stand and put in my earrings.

“Do you really think Jase would be that upset? Y’all broke up a long time ago, and it’s time y’all moved on.”

“You seriously think he’d be okay with me movin’ on with his father? Sure, yeah, go bang my dad, then let’s have a therapy session about all the emotional trauma,” I mimic in an exaggerated deep voice.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, just tell him to shut up, or you’ll make him your stepson.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’ll make him closer to Daddy dearest.”

“To be a fly on the wall at that restaurant…are ya sure I can’t be your plus-one?”

“For what? Like some weird non-double date? I’m already worried I’m gonna slip and say somethin’ I’m not supposed to know.”

“Like how big his dick is…”

“No! Well, yes, but more personal. He’s talked about stuff I wouldn’t know if we were only coworkers.”

“Again, to be a fly on the wall…” She chuckles and motions for me to spin around so she can get the full view of me. “And you wearin’ a date night dress on a non-date night is the cherry on top.”

My hands rub over the ruffled fabric. “Is it too much? Should I change?”

I analyze every inch of my outfit in my floor-length mirror. I picked out a white cami dress with a ruched bust that flows just below my knees. When I pair it with navy-blue heels, it grants me a few more inches. Since we’re meeting at the Twisted Bull afterward, I’m bringing my favorite cowboy boots. No way can I dance or ride the mechanical bull in three-inch shoes.

“You look perfect. I’ll be waitin’ at the bar to hear all about it.”

“How will you listen if your tongue is halfway down Tripp’s throat?”

“Don’t give me false hope!” She scoffs when I laugh. “Nope, tonight is all about findin’ me a new man. No more of these emotionally unavailable boys.”

My eyes widen in surprise at the sound of her new mindset. “Finally! ’Bout goddamn time. Just don’t hook up with someone you work with.”

“Trust me, if there was anyone at work worth seein’ me naked, you’d know about it by now. And we both know I’d quit my job if it came down to that.”

Easy for Magnolia to say, but if we get caught, I won’t be the one without a job. Fisher would be the unemployed one. But the ranch needs him, too. So quitting isn’t an option for either of us.

“Okay, I gotta go before I’m late, but we’ll talk more over margaritas!” I grab my purse and hug her.

“You got it, babe. I’ll be three deep in by the time ya get there.”

I shake my head, smiling. “You better wait for me. No tipsy Magnolia.”

“Fine.” She chuckles, walking out with me to my truck.

“Be careful,” I warn when we go our separate ways.

“I should be tellin’ you that.” Her taunting has nervous butterflies invading my stomach. I’ve been dreading this for two days.

How the hell am I supposed to sit next to my ex-boyfriend and pretend I’m not thinking about his dad whispering in my ear what a good girl I am for taking his dick so well?

Lilian’s Steakhouse is packed when I arrive. Nearly every stool is taken at the bar, which means it’s louder than I expected. The dining area is in the back, where it’s quieter, but I’d much prefer the loudness to drown out my anxious thoughts.

“Hey.” Fisher stands against the wall next to me. His eyes fixate on one of the TVs behind the bar as if he’s purposely not looking at me. “Jase not here?”

“Not yet. As soon as I parked, he texted that he was runnin’ late, but I let the hostess know of our reservation.”

“Oh.”

I steal a glance and grin at his black slacks and matching suit coat. A gray button-up is underneath but no tie. It’s a different look than I’ve seen him wear before, but I’m not complaining. It fits him well in a professional kind of way that makes me want to slowly strip off each item.

“You look breathtakin’,” he mutters so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

My throat tightens when I try to thank him and reciprocate the compliment. Being alone with him feels like a date, one we never got to have, and it makes me wish even more that our circumstances were different.

“Do you wanna drink?” he asks when my silence lingers.

“Absolutely,” I immediately respond. I need one…or two.

He finally meets my eyes, and a hint of a smile graces his scruffy face. When he brushes a hand through his hair, it messes it up in a way I wish I were the one threading my fingers through it.

“What’s your poison?” he asks once we squeeze our way to the bar.

Men twice my age. And off-limits.

“I’ll start with a mojito. Or wait, maybe a Long Island Iced Tea.”

“A bit indecisive tonight?” He arches a brow. The corner of his lips tilts up as he waits for me to choose.

Shrugging, I take the stool next to me when it opens up. “You pick for me, then.”

Once the bartender comes over, Fisher orders a Budweiser for himself, glances at me with amusement written on his face, and leans closer toward her.

“And a Screwdriver.”

I furrow my brows, wondering how he came up with that one.

After she sets both drinks down, he hands her his card, and as he slides the yellow liquid-filled glass in front of me, he brings his mouth to my ear.

“Because we’re both screwed. Enjoy.” His whisper sends shivers down my spine as his free hand wraps around the back of my stool.

That’s an understatement, I want to reply, but Jase approaching on my other side causes me to jump. Fisher puts a couple of inches between us and is so casual about it that you wouldn’t know his tongue was practically in my ear a moment ago.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Jase kisses my cheek. “Meetin’ ran late. Can you order me a Guinness? I’ll let the hostess know we’re ready.”

“Sure,” Fisher answers, keeping his gaze locked on Jase’s as his dances between us.

“Thanks.”

Once Jase walks away, I inhale a sharp breath, grab my drink, and take a long sip.

“Keep these comin’.”

Fisher shakes his head. “Not if you’re drivin’.”

I glare at him, wanting to argue, but I know he’s right.

“Okay, they’re ready for us.” Jase grabs his beer and wraps an arm around my waist when I stand.

As we follow the hostess, Jase asks how I’ve been. There’s an urge to shake him, but I stop myself so he won’t be suspicious about my sudden refusal of his touch.

“Good, busy as usual,” I tell him when he picks a seat at the square table.

Before I can do the same, Fisher pulls out my chair, and my eyes widen.

I turn and mouth, “What’re ya doin’?”

He furrows his brows as if he doesn’t understand the panic on my face.

“Oh shit, I shoulda done that.” Jase stands, reaching the back of my chair and motioning for me to sit. Once I do, he helps push me in, then squeezes my shoulder.

“A gentleman should always pull out a woman’s chair,” Fisher says when he takes his own next to me.

“Thanks for the reminder, Dad.” The way he emphasizes the word has me flinching.

Why is he being so rude?

The hostess waits until we’re all situated before setting down our menus and listing the specials. Once she leaves, I open mine so I can hide my face from Jase’s intense stare.

He wanted me here as a buffer, but now I’m worried he has other intentions.

“The Porterhouse sounds good,” Jase says. “I bet you’re gettin’ your favorite type.”

Why is he acting like he knows my favorite steak when the nicest restaurant he’s ever taken me to had chicken nuggets on the menu?

“Actually, I’m in the mood for shrimp.”

“At a steakhouse?” He scoffs, closing his menu with a smack. “Get the filet. You’ll like it.”

My head pounds as I think about yelling at him for being an arrogant asshole, but for the sake of keeping the peace, I stay quiet. I’ll order whatever I damn well please.

Fisher must notice my annoyance because he clears his throat and grabs his beer.

“I’m thinkin’ seafood, too. The crab legs sound good.” He takes a sip, ignoring Jase’s scowl.

Thankfully, our server appears and asks if we’re ready to order.

God, yes. And bring the check before I’m tempted to run into traffic to avoid another minute of this.

“Howdy, I’m Melinda, and I’ll be takin’ care of y’all tonight. I see y’all have drinks, but if you need refills, let me know. Are y’all here celebratin’ for a special occasion?”

Yeah, my funeral.

The brunette smiles wide, and if she feels the awkwardness radiating between us, she’s not making it known by how giddy she is.

“Just a family dinner,” Jase explains.

“Aw, that’s precious.” She directs her attention to Fisher. “Your children are so sweet to take you out. My parents are always yellin’ at me to go out with them, but life gets busy, ya know?”

I grab my drink to avoid blurting out that she should shut up and just take our order. Before Jase says something hurtful about his dad or, worse, I tell her she’s wrong because what we did that weekend was far from precious.

“I’m gonna have the grilled shrimp with a side salad,” I say so we can get this over with as fast as humanly possible. I’ll inhale my food without chewing if it means we can leave sooner.

When she moves to Jase and steals his attention, I glance at Fisher. He smirks, then shifts in his chair and squeezes my leg underneath the table. My heart gallops at the goose bumps his touch leaves on my skin.

Just as swiftly as he leaned over, he settles back when the server directs her attention to him next. I take small sips of my Screwdriver as we wait for her to leave.

“How was your first week workin’ on the ranch?” Jase asks once she does.

“It was good. Every day is eventful.” Fisher grins at me.

“What’s that mean?” Jase asks in a harsh tone.

“There’s a lot to do,” I hurriedly answer before Fisher can. “Lots of people comin’ and goin’.”

“And the issue with Ranger,” Fisher adds.

“What happened?” Jase asks me instead of his dad.

“Found a couple nails in his hoof,” Fisher replies anyway.

“We actually found tons of nails scattered in the trainin’ center arena. Tripp and Landen had to use the sweeper and level it out with more dirt. We caught the person who most likely did it on camera.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Fisher says at the same time Jase asks, “Who?”

Jase narrows his eyes at his dad, but Fisher ignores his scowl and stares at me.

“We dunno. They were wearin’ a black hoodie and kept their head down the whole time they walked in and out.”

I only saw the footage last night, or I would’ve told Fisher sooner.

“Whoever it was knew where the cameras were,” Fisher says.

“Probably that Craig Sanders douche.”

Shit, he could be right.

“Maybe. But why, after all this time, would he harass me now?”

“Who’s Craig Sanders?” Fisher asks.

“A prick who needs his face rearranged. He’s a jealous asshole.”

“Language, Jase. We’re in a restaurant,” Fisher warns.

If I had a knife, I’d use it to cut the tension between them because they’re only one whose dick is bigger argument away from getting into a fistfight.

“He’s a rival trainer who’s mad Ellie picked me instead of him. She’s killin’ it in the barrel racing scene right now, which makes sense as to why he’d cover the arena in nails. He knew she’d be trainin’ with me.”

Fisher’s nostrils flare. “How much of a threat is this guy? Should you contact the authorities?”

“She just said they couldn’t get a face on the camera. What’re the cops gonna do?” Jase’s cocky tone has me kicking him underneath the table with a glare.

“Creatin’ a paper trail for trespassin’ will help if there’s another incident,” Fisher explains. His clipped voice edges on annoyance at Jase’s dumbass comment. Can’t say I blame him.

“We shoulda reported it,” I agree. “But my first gut reaction was to get it cleaned up right away and take care of Ranger. But since there’s footage, I can show them what we have.”

“I’ll text Sheriff Wagner and tell him to swing by the ranch tomorrow,” Jase says, pulling out his cell.

“I can call him myself,” I say, harsher than I intended to, but his demeanor is frustrating. He never gave a shit about the ranch when we were dating, and now he’s acting like he gives a damn.

With a shrug, he pockets his phone. “Alright, just thought I’d take somethin’ off your plate.”

He hasn’t a goddamn clue what’s on my plate.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. But we’ll get it sorted.” I give him a tight-lipped smile and nod toward Fisher so he gets the hint to make nice conversation with him.

“Did you get unpacked?” Jase asks him before grabbing his beer.

“About halfway. Still need to buy some furniture, but the necessities are put away.”

“Where did ya buy a house?” I ask because I actually don’t know where he lives.

“Five minutes outside of town on 107.”

So about ten to fifteen minutes from the ranch.

“Nice, so not too far from Jase.” I smile. After Jase moved out of his mom’s house, he rented an apartment in town so he was closer to the office.

“I actually found a house I wanna buy.” Jase grins.

I raise a brow. “Really?”

Jase was never interested in settling down or making any big plans because all he cared about was himself and doing the bare minimum. While we were dating, it wasn’t that big of a deal since I still lived in my parents’ house and wasn’t planning on leaving for college. Now, it’s nice to see him taking his life and career more seriously.

“That’s why I was late. I was talkin’ with my banker. Plannin’ on makin’ an offer tomorrow.”

I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Jase, that’s amazin’! Congrats!”

That’s a big step for him, especially at his age. I’m genuinely proud of him and how far he’s come.

“Proud of you, son,” Fisher says, holding up his Budweiser and waiting for Jase to clink his back.

Jase gives him a curt nod and finally lifts his glass. “Thanks.”

Taking a sip of my drink, I’m relieved the uneasiness has dwindled.

“Do you have any pictures?” I ask.

Jase whips out his phone and scrolls to the listing. “Three bedrooms and bathrooms, large backyard, dining and living rooms. Newly remodeled kitchen.”

“That sounds like a dream!” I smile wide when he scrolls through the photos. “Looks beautiful.”

“That’s big,” Fisher says. “Alotta house for one person.”

“Well, sure now, but I don’t wanna be single forever. Someday, there’ll be a wife and kids livin’ there, too.” Jase gives me a look that makes my skin crawl. I’m not sure if he’s gauging my reaction to him dating other women or to the idea of him settling down, but either way, he better get any thoughts of us getting back together out of his mind.

“I can’t wait to see it in person,” I say, keeping my voice level. Before Fisher’s return, it wouldn’t even be a question that he’d show me. As friends, we kept each other updated on everything. It was fun and easy. Now it’s as if he’s trying to show off as if to imply how well he’s done without him.

“How about Sunday? I’m doin’ another walk-through,” Jase offers.

“Depends. I’ll be workin’ in the afternoon before family supper.”

“I can come,” Fisher says. “Before then, anyway.”

Jase snaps his head toward his dad.

Oh shit.

“Wait, you’re goin’ to the Hollises on Sunday?”

“Dena invited me.”

I keep my eyes on my drink, swirling my straw around as if it’s the most interesting thing in this room.

“You’re lucky. Dena’s a great cook,” Jase’s bitter tone spits out. “Make sure to bail after dessert, or you’ll get stuck scrapbookin’ with them.”

“Hey.” I bump my foot into his shin.

He laughs, but it actually hurts my feelings. He knows how special Sunday nights are to me.

Though I shouldn’t be surprised. He complained each time I stayed late, and he’d eventually leave without me.

“What’s that?” Fisher asks with a sweetness in his voice.

“It’s a tradition to add a page to our scrapbook each week. But we usually end up chattin’ too long and doing three or four pages before we call it a night. It’s old-school, but my momma loves it. Gramma Grace tells stories, and the rest of us write them down next to the photos.”

“Snooze city,” Jase murmurs.

“Maybe to you,” I snap.

Fisher clears his throat, grabbing Jase’s attention, and gives him a murderous look. It’s not like he can tell him I didn’t raise you to be a little asshole because Jase would just throw it in his face that he didn’t raise him at all. But he doesn’t need to say anything. One piercing look and Jase keeps his mouth shut.

The server approaches with a wide, toothy smile, oblivious to how I’m ready to pull out my hair, and delivers my salad.

“Can I get drink refills for anyone?”

“Just water for me,” Fisher says.

“I’ll take another Guinness. How about you?” Jase asks me.

“I’ll take a water.” And before she walks away, I quickly add, “Can I also get a shot of your strongest tequila?”

“Of course! Be right back with those.”

I feel Fisher’s heated stare, so I avoid looking at him and dig into my food instead.

“You still goin’ to the Twisted Bull tonight?” Jase asks.

“I am,” Fisher says before I can respond.

“Yeah, meetin’ Magnolia and my brothers there.”

“You’ll have to record my old man fallin’ on his ass when he tries to ride the bull.” Jase snickers. If he’s not careful, his little digs will piss off Fisher more than he already looks. Jase asked me to come as a buffer, not to help troll him.

“Why don’t ya come and show me what you can do?” Fisher asks. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Not a chance. People respect me as a real estate agent ’round here. They don’t wanna see the person sellin’ them a house actin’ like a drunk fool on a mechanical bull.”

“No one said you had to be drunk.” I shrug.

“Trust me, I’d need to be to do somethin’ that stupid.”

“I did it,” I remind him.

“Yeah, and you were plastered off your ass. Not your proudest moment, Noah.”

I blink, taken aback by how he’s treating me when I’m here as a favor in the first place.

Fisher’s shoulder lifts slightly. “She showed me the video, and I thought she did great.”

No. No, no, no. Why would Fisher tell him that?

Bracing myself, I wait for Jase to freak out, but he just scoffs.

“My brothers think he can’t do it, so I showed him if I could do it drunk, he most definitely could,” I explain.

“Except you face-planted.”

“But I lasted the full eight seconds, didn’t I?” I say smugly, and Fisher chokes on his beer.

Oh God. Eight seconds.

I resist the urge to laugh at him for choking once again at my words.

“You okay?” I ask, trying to hide my blush with my glass as I take the final sip.

He pats his chest, clearing his throat. “Just went down wrong.”

Mm-hmm.

Finally, the server returns with our beverages, and I immediately shoot down the tequila. I’m tempted to tell her to bring me another, but that’d be irresponsible, so I stick with my water.

“I’ll be right back with your food.”

Thank God.

After the server delivers our food, we thank her, and dive in. I’m about to scarf down my shrimp like I’m aiming for the Guinness World Record and then get the hell out of here. If we weren’t in a fancy restaurant, I’d chuck a piece at Jase and pray it gets caught in his throat so he’d shut up.

Just as I form my plan, someone says my name and steals my attention to the man standing next to me.

And just like that, this horrible dinner manages to get worse.