Down Under With Dad's Best Friend, page 9
“Um,” Candace says, then her eyes light up. “Watch a movie.”
“Well, that’s easy,” I say, turning to gesture out towards the lounge area. “We can do that right here. What else do you want to try?”
“We should get takeout,” she says. “I know we had room service already, but something that has to get delivered. Like Chinese food or something.”
“Chinese takeout and a movie,” I nod. “Done. What else?”
“Oh! Get some groceries delivered. I could cook for you,” Candace says.
I laugh. “Where?” I point out. The suite might be impressive, and it does have a kind of kitchenette, but it’s sorely lacking in resources and appliances. It’s got a microwave and a kettle, and that’s about all.
“Hm, that’s right.” She pauses. “We’ll have to skip that one. I don’t know, what else do dating people do?”
The idea of introducing each other to our friends and family comes to mind, but I don’t voice it. It’s too much of a sore subject. I don’t want to remind her that I’m literally her Dad’s best friend. I’ve been trying hard not to think of it myself.
“They argue,” I say, jokingly.
“Yes! We should have our first fight,” Candace says, her eyes gleaming.
I laugh. “How?”
“Well, usually it’s when a couple starts to spend some more time together and one of them reveals an annoying habit, right?” she says. “We just have to bring our annoying habits out right now.”
I quirk an eyebrow, challenge accepted. I stand up, still only wearing my towel, and keep eye contact with her until I know she’s waiting for the big reveal.
Then I take the towel from around my waist, hold it out, and drop it in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Candace mock-gasps.
“Are you just going to leave that there?” she asks. “Don’t you know how to tidy up after yourself?”
“No,” I smirk, standing deliberately with my hands on my hips, everything hanging out proudly for her to see.
“Sean Fogarty,” she says, obviously about to start a tirade.
“Sean Scott Fogarty,” I supply because a rant is always more impressive when you use the person’s full name.
“Sean Scott Fogarty,” she continues, without missing a beat. “Clear up after yourself. Right now!”
“Make me,” I say, the smirk still in place.
She gets up huffily, pretending to slam the blow drier down on the vanity table but really placing it carefully. “I’ve told you once,” she says. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Ah, come on, woman,” I say, my grin spreading. “Enough of your nagging. I’ll tidy it up when I’m good and ready.”
“You’ll do it when I ask you to,” she says, coming to a stop so close to me I could reach out and touch her.
“And how are you going to make me do that?”
She looks steadily at me, and I see conflict in her eyes, an impish mischievousness as she plays along, battling with a daring that she doesn’t know if she feels yet.
But then she does it.
She grabs her towel, pulls it off, and dumps it on the floor right on top of mine.
“You’re going to clear it up – and you’re going to put mine where it should be, too,” she says.
I look up and down her naked body, glorying in it. Sure, it’s not the first time I’ve seen her naked. We’ve been all over each other for days. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have a very strong effect on me. I feel myself stiffening to attention, getting so hard that I’m glad I no longer have any clothes or other restrictions that might make it uncomfortable.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I bend over to get the towels and then straighten up. “But what’s my reward?”
“I think you know what your reward is,” Candace says with a giggle.
I step back, falling again into the same sitting position I occupied before – just, this time, without the towels. I dump the offending objects on the bed beside me and reach for her. She moves forward, still giggling until she straddles my legs, and then I help her climb up onto her knees on the bed.
Perfectly placed to slide down, her breasts against my chest, I carefully position my cock to slowly and teasingly glide inside her.
She rides me right there on the edge of the bed until the giggles drop from our faces and we’re all seriousness until our breath comes so fast we can hardly keep up with it until we lose all control. And I hold her tight against me there, hoping we never have to stop doing this again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Candace
“Yesterday was good, wasn’t it?” I say, wistfully, remembering.
“It wasn’t just good,” Sean says, looking up from where he’s folding clothes into a suitcase. “It was amazing. You had the greatest of all great ideas.”
“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” I chuckle. Our fast-track date journey had gone like a charm. First, there had been the fight and the ensuing make-up sex, then our movie and takeout night. Or, afternoon, really. I’d even video called one of my friends back home to cross off another milestone, though it had felt weird to bring someone else inside the bubble that has become our lives this week.
“Are you sure this is everything?” Sean asks, looking around my tiny hotel room again. It seems so small and basic in comparison to his suite. I think he might have ruined me. I’m not sure I’m going to be satisfied with staying somewhere cheap like this ever again.
“I think so,” I say, glancing around. I’ve already checked everything three times.
But, of course, I have. Because I’ll do anything I can to delay this whole process. I don’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave.
And considering how little I’ve seen of it, it definitely isn’t Melbourne itself that has enchanted me.
“Alright, then,” Sean says, and I nod at him reluctantly. “We’ll get this back to my suite and combine it with your new suitcase, and then we’ll be good to go.”
“Right,” I say, unenthusiastically. “What time did you say your flight is, again?”
“Two hours after yours, like it, always has been,” Sean says, with a twinkling smile. “You don’t have to keep checking.”
“I know, I know,” I sigh, following him out of the room and down the hall. I need to check out, otherwise, they’ll charge me for one more day. But I’d rather pay for another day than leave Sean.
Not that it matters. He’s flying out two hours after my flight leaves. So that means, even if I deliberately miss my flight, I’ll only get two more hours with him. If that. He might want to go to his lounge early, given that he’s likely flying at least business class.
It’s just that I don’t want any of this to end, and it feels like it must be. We haven’t even talked about where all this might go when the week is over. Now that we’re here, preparing to go to our respective homes, I really wish we had.
But now I don’t want to bring it up, because I don’t want to hear him say it. I don’t want to hear the confirmation that this is our last day together. I don’t want to know for sure that it’s all over.
Even though, realistically, I know it is.
I just don’t know how two people can have such a strong connection and then just… what? Never see each other again? It doesn’t feel right.
I know I haven’t had a lot of relationships, but surely I can’t be that wrong about this.
That is, assuming we both feel it. I might be the only one.
I keep silent on the ride back to Sean’s hotel – which, admittedly, is a very short one. I don’t even have to do a thing, just get in the back of a car and then out again a few minutes later. Sean carries my one bag effortlessly as if it’s made out of straw. And when we get back up to his suite and I see the other waiting suitcase that we prepared earlier, I can’t help but stand still, floored by that terrible sinking feeling.
“What is it?” Sean asks, immediately rushing to my side when he sees my face.
“I just…” I stop, shaking my head. I have the awful feeling that if I say it, I’m going to cry.
“You just… don’t want to go?” Sean says, his voice a guess, a guess filled with hope.
I look up at him, and all I can do is slowly shake my head from side to side, feeling my face crumple under the weight of the tears that already now start to pour from my eyes.
In the space of a single instant, his arms are around me. He holds me close against his chest, even though it means my wet eyes will probably smear mascara all over his nice shirt. I can’t hold back anymore. I feel the weight of a torrent of emotions rushing through me. All the newness of us, and how this past week has felt. How amazing it’s been. The thought of going home and the complete misery it brings washes over me. The terror of never seeing him again. It’s all too much. I find myself sobbing against him, my shoulders shaking up and down as he holds me tight.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice fierce but also raw and breaking. “Please don’t cry.”
I manage to get myself together just enough to pull back and look at him, even though tears are still pouring down my face and my breathing is still ragged. “I c-can’t stop,” I sob. “I just… I d-don’t want to lose this.”
“You don’t have to lose this,” he says, even more fiercely than before. He cups my face with one hand, his thumb smoothing away each new tear that falls. “Why would you ever think I would be going anywhere?”
“But you are,” I say. His words, and the calming motion of his thumb across my skin, help to get my breathing under control – but I still feel like I’m about a second away from breaking. “You’re going home. And I’m going home. We’re not staying together.”
“I know, but…” Sean hesitates, studying me closely, his eyes roving over my face as if in search of something. “Do you… do you want to stay?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. Finally, he’s getting it.
“Do you want to stay with me, no matter where I am?” he presses. “Even if it means not going home, not staying here? If it means going somewhere that isn’t as exciting?”
“It’s not about the place,” I tell him, clinging desperately to him, my hands fisting in the front of his shirt to keep him close. “It’s about being with you.”
“Candace,” Sean says, and he seems to take a breath that has me hanging in the air with him. For a moment it’s like we’re both suspended, waiting. And then he plunges in. “I’m falling in love with you. No, not falling – fallen. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, tears falling from my eyes again. This time there is more happiness in the air, but the sadness remains. Even if we love each other, is it enough? Do we still have to leave one another? Lose what this is, what it could be?
“Are you sure?” Sean asks. Both his hands cup my face, holding me urgently, studying my eyes so deeply it’s like he’s trying to read my mind. “Not just about loving me. What you said about being willing to go anywhere to be together. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” I gasp, and I’ve never been so sure about an answer I’ve ever given in my whole life. “Yes, that’s what I want. I don’t want anything else. I mean it.”
He bends his head and kisses me, so urgent and wild that I feel my knees going weak, and it’s only the fact that he’s holding me up that keeps me in place.
And I have a feeling he knows just how to hold me up, no matter what – and that he’s going to fix this so that we can both be happy. In my bones, suddenly, I know it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sean
I let go of Candace only because at some point we both have to breathe, and clean ourselves up, and do what needs to be done. Because if we don’t, we won’t be able to make this happen. And I need – and she needs – so desperately for this to happen.
“Okay,” I say, wiping a hand over my own face and then look back at her. “We need to clean up. That’s step number one.”
“Step number one towards what?” Candace asks, reaching for my hand and taking it as if she thinks I’m going to disappear.
I’m not going anywhere. I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Towards what you just told me you want. Please. I think it’s a good idea if it doesn’t look like you’ve been crying.”
I watch as she visibly straightens up, sniffing a little as the last of the tears leave her. “Okay,” she says. “I trust you. I’ll go and freshen up my makeup.” She reaches inside her already-packed suitcase and draws out a makeup bag, heading off to the bathroom.
I look down at my shirt, which is smeared with makeup and tears. Not that I mind – well, except for the fact that I don’t want her to cry at all – but I don’t think this is going to look good on camera. I shrug it off and grab another. It’s a good thing I hadn’t quite finished packing, knowing I would have another couple of hours to get it done after Candace was on her flight.
When she emerges from the bathroom, she looks just as beautiful as ever. There’s still a slight red tinge to the edges of her eyes, where it can’t be covered with makeup. But maybe we can pass that off as bad lighting.
I really hope we can pass it off and make this work.
“What now?” she asks, her voice still trembling just a little. But I’m proud to see she’s pulled herself together almost completely. She trusts me so deeply that she hasn’t held onto any of that sadness, already believing that I’ll make it all go away for her.
Now I just have to live up to that trust and make sure that I can make this work for both of us.
“Now, we set up my phone and make a call,” I say. I check my watch, but it’s irrelevant. It will be late in the evening in the US right now, but I don’t think that Bill is going to miss this call. His daughter is in Melbourne and about to get a flight. He’ll be watching the flight tracker, waiting for her to call and say she’s at the airport, to let him know how she’s progressing. He won’t be asleep.
“To who?” Candace asks, still wide-eyed and confused, trying to catch up.
“To your Dad,” I say, propping my phone up on the table and settling down on the couch. I pat the cushion beside me so that she’ll drop down next to me, so we can present a united front. And then I lean forward again to hit call – no pause, no hesitation. If I wait, I know I’ll only end up feeling nervous, overthinking it.
This is the same way I’ve dealt with all the difficult business calls I’ve ever had to make. Don’t hesitate. Just make the call. Don’t let any weakness creep in.
The video call is answered within a few rings, but Bill isn’t looking up at the screen at first – he looks like he’s checking something on a different device. “Hey, Sean, can I call you back? I’m waiting for a call from…” he looks up and spots his daughter on the screen, his expression changing to confusion. “Candace.”
“Hi, Dad,” she says, a little awkwardly. I know I’ve thrown her in at the deep end, too. But it’s better this way. No time to second-guess ourselves or build up doubts. No time to panic. We just have to rip off the band-aid.
“What are you two doing together?” Bill asks, frowning. But then his expression clears a little. “Did you bump into each other? I know you do business in Australia often, Sean.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” I say, glancing down at Candace. We have to tell the whole story and get it out there. But at the same time, I’m not sure how much information Bill can digest at once before going off the deep end. “We bumped into each other right at the beginning of the week, actually.”
“Oh, so you’ve had a personal guide to help you out with getting around Melbourne?” Bill says, smiling. “I’m glad. You should have told me earlier, sweetie. I’ve spent all this time worrying about you.”
“Oh, I’ve been completely fine,” Candace says, and I don’t miss how she skips telling her Dad about that encounter at Flinders Street that made her need rescuing in the first place. “Sean’s really been looking after me.”
“Haven’t you had a lot of business meetings to take?” Bill asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a bit rare for you to take time off, isn’t it?”
“First time in twenty years,” I say, with a slight smile. He’s nowhere close to getting it yet. We need to keep pushing him in that direction, as gently as possible. This doesn’t need to be more traumatic for anyone than it already will be. “I thought it was worth it, to make sure Candace had a good vacation.”
Now he frowns, just slightly. He knows me well enough to know that this isn’t something I’d do just for anyone. In fact, he knows it’s not something I’ve ever done at all. At least, he thinks he does. Now I’m sure he’s racking his brain, trying to figure out if this is normal Sean behavior that he somehow missed so far.
“You didn’t have to do that, I’m sure,” he says, his eyes going to his daughter. In the small preview at the bottom of the video feed showing us our own camera input, even I can see in that tiny frame that she looks nervous. Stiff and anxious. He must know by now that something’s up.
“I wanted to,” I say. I take a breath and then do it, I reach over and take her hand, our fingers automatically interlacing together. “I wanted to make sure she was safe. And there was more than that, too. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
Candace glances at me and our eyes meet, a slight flush coming over her face. A look of gratitude and love at my words. I hope that Bill doesn’t miss it.
“What’s going on?” Bill asks his tone now deeply suspicious.
“Bill,” I say, not looking away from her. It’s important, this moment. It’s the most important thing we’ll probably ever do or say, as far as Bill is concerned. He needs to know how serious this is, and he needs to know it fast, or we’re never going to get anywhere. “I’m in love with your daughter.”
She squeezes my hand, a joyful smile breaking out on her face. I relish that for a moment, glorying in it. But then I have to look back at my screen – and I see that Bill has narrowed his eyes, looking furious but also even more suspicious.
