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Hot and Heavy with My Dad’s Best Friend

By:Ava May

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Hot and Heavy with My Dad’s Best Friend

Taboo Romance

Ava May

Hot and Heavy with My Dad’s Best Friend

Jenna Grant sighed and looked at her car. Her steaming car. It had to be something like the radiator, but as for what it could be precisely, she had no idea. She wasn’t much of a car person, and hers wasn’t the newest or best, or, apparently running. She couldn’t expect her car to do that, could she?

This was bad. Very bad. She’d been out with her friends tonight, celebrating Pat’s brand new job. While Jenna hadn’t had too much to drink, she was dressed just this side of naughty. It wasn’t often she got a chance to go out with the girls, much less for more than dinner after work. She would usually be dressed in her cartoon-animal scrubs, visiting with friends right from work. Tonight, she’d shed her pediatric nurse clothes and had let her hair down a bit. Both literally and figuratively.

And now, at 1 am, she was stranded on a country road—great idea, that shortcut—with a dead cell phone and a shorter than short miniskirt. This was the stuff every horror movie began with, and she had no intention of being that too stupid to live heroine, looking doe-eyed in her last moments.

Yeeeah. No, that wasn’t happening. She looked from side to side, scanning the fields that bordered her town’s high school. The school had been planned and built way out, in an area that wasn’t residential or commercial. She’d have to hike a few miles at best, in high heels that she wasn’t used to wearing.

Jenna held her breath as a car whipped by. It had moved so slowly that she hadn’t even thought to wave, though her hazards were blinking merrily. A couple hundred yards away, the driver stopped and she watched, hopeful, as he or hopefully she, would help.

The car—some black car—maybe a Mustang—stopped and the driver’s side door opened. Someone big and tall and very, very male stepped out. It was dim; he wasn’t washed in the lights of her hazards, and she had a brief fight or flight reaction, but she managed to squelch it. Barely.

Then he stepped into the lights of her car, and she gasped. This wasn’t anyone strange; this was someone she knew, and knew well.

“Hi, Nick,” she said, her heart suddenly hammering. He stopped in his perusal, looking her up and down slowly. When he got to her face, his eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

“Jenna?” he asked and she could sense he was blushing. “What are you—” He stopped himself. “What are you…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Breakdown,” she said softly, very aware that she was in party clothes.

“Did you call your dad?” he asked, and she shook her head. Nick and her father had been friends since grammar school, and she imagined he would have assumed that.

“No, my phone is dead.”

He kept looking at her; her father’s very best friend in the world. Uncle Nick; she’d grown up with him. And he’d so been checking her out. Whoa. Weird. But kind of...nice.

“Where have you been, Jenna?” he asked, his voice rougher than she could ever remember it being. That was so not Uncle Nick; later just Nick. He’d been a constant in her life since she could remember, whether it was Dad and Uncle Nick going to games some weekends, to him watching her when Mom and Dad had gone away for their fifteenth anniversary, to helping her with her college essays, to…well, everything.

She’d always thought of him as Dad’s best friend, never as a guy, but whoa boy he was checking her out in a way that was anything but interested.

Then again, Jenna was dressed pretty revealingly, not at all like her demure work-like self. Instead of Mickey and Minnie on her scrubs, she had an off the shoulder top, with a statement bra on underneath, her top thin enough that her red and black bra showed through. Her skirt wasn’t quite mini—as a bigger than average gal she didn’t feel comfortable in skirts that revealed too much, especially when her shirt did.

“Can I help?” he asked, pulling out his phone. He didn’t wait for her to answer, just dialed a number. “Triple A,” he told her, leaning against the side of her car. His hair was mussed, his shirt open to the third button, which wasn’t like him at all.

But damn he looked good. Really good. Beyond good. He had a ruggedness that none of the guys at the club had, or if they did, they certainly didn’t look at girls like her.

Girls like her meaning curvier. She was the biggest in her friends group and nobody seemed to look at her—not first or last, just period. She wasn’t interesting to men, not when they had their pick of her cuter, smaller friends.

Then again, she thought of most men her age as boys rather than men. They were so immature and that was a problem for her. She wanted more—more everything, but starting with maturity.

“Going to be a couple of hours,” Nick said, swiping his finger over the face of his phone. “Do you want to go back to your place, or mine? I think mine would be better, since I can talk with the mechanic when they tow it to a garage.”

His? Oh yeah, his.

Jenna hadn’t been to his current house; he’d gotten divorced and had moved in closer to the city, in order to have a quicker commute to work.

“I had them tow to my mechanic, Jenna. Yours must be twenty miles away and that’ll add up in towing costs. You can crash at my place instead of relying on your dad to commute you back.”

She considered his words and gave it consideration. It all made sense; too much sense. And she was sure she had imagined the way he’d looked at her. She was his best friend’s daughter and there was no way he’d go there. Not with her.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nick watched his best friend’s kid bending over and tried not to think about how her skirt was riding up a little bit and how the door was blocking his view of that bra. He’d have to talk with Tony and mention that Jenna was being a little wild. Though he had no idea how he’d sell this to his buddy—Tony would probably kick his ass.

Hell, Nick would kick his own ass if he could. Jenna was doing all sorts of things he couldn’t face quite yet and didn’t want to imagine. No, not yet. Or maybe not at all. Ever. Nope never. Jenna was his buddy’s kid, and he had to keep remembering that. Even if she was dressed more like a streetwalker than the young woman he’d gotten to know.

“Ready,” she said, teetering back up tall. She wobbled a moment and he resisted the urge to steady her. When she glanced over to his car, and then gave him a grin, his pants started to tighten.

Whoa, Nellie. Not good at all.

“I love it,” she told him, her voice a low, sexy alto. “Mustangs are just sexy. Were you off having a good time tonight then?”

Good night? Just the opposite. He’d had a date go really badly—she wasn’t over her boyfriend and had far too much to drink. There had been a little cock teasing, and she’d wanted a kiss before he dropped her off. She’d been so drunk he’d let himself in with her and had waited until she’d gotten ready for bed. It had happened far too slowly. He was tired, more than a little cranky, and somewhat horny, though he didn’t want to admit to that. Not to himself and definitely not to Jenna.

“No,” he replied softly. “What’s got you in that?” he asked, gesturing to her provocative outfit. Jenna was more a jeans, tee shirt, and flip flops kind of girl, so this was surprising. And fuckin’ hot, okay, he could admit that.

“A friend of mine got a new job. She’s going to be working for the mayor’s office and she invited us all out for drinks and dancing.” She motioned to her clothes and shrugged. “It isn’t really my thing.”

Oh hell yes, it was. “You look good,” he said, not believing he said the words. He wanted to take them back—what was he thinking showing his hand like that?

‘Thanks,” she said, her face reddening. He could tell it in the dim light, but with luck, she wouldn’t have any idea what he was thinking or feeling—or showing, for that matter.

He came around and opened the passenger side door, not because she was girly and needed him to, or even because it was good manners. He did it because he wanted to watch those gorgeous thighs as she slid into the car. Would that skirt ride up any higher, affording him a better view of her curvy legs. And how the seatbelt would constrict her cleavage. That one bare shoulder looked so fucking creamy and kissable, and he winced, knowing his plans to go home and jack off to some faceless imaginary lover were done. Maybe he could wait until she went to sleep, or curb his normally loud lovemaking style. Or maybe he’d just go to sleep. Yeah, that would be good, it was late, after all.