Gorgeous Daddy(3)

Saturday evening finally arrived, and I was buzzing with nervous excitement. I’d spent way too long getting ready, standing in front of the mirror for what felt like hours. I settled on a soft, knee-length wine-red dress that clung gently to my waist and hips without being too tight or revealing. The neckline was modest but dipped just enough to hint at cleavage if I moved the right way. A touch of makeup, loose waves in my hair, and simple heels completed the look. It was attractive but nothing that screamed “I’m trying to seduce your dad.”

I grabbed the carefully wrapped gift I’d gotten for Anna (a beautiful hardcover edition of the romance novel we’d both been obsessing over, plus a cute bookmark set) and headed downstairs just as Bruce’s car pulled up.

The drive to their house was filled with light conversation, but his eyes kept flicking to me in the rearview mirror a little too often. Every time our gazes met, heat rushed through me.

Anna threw the door open before I could even knock, practically tackling me in a hug.

“Mira! You came! Oh my god, I’m so happy you’re here!” She was glowing, dressed in a cute birthday outfit, practically bouncing on her toes. “Dad made all my favorites. Come in, come in!”

Bruce stood just behind her, looking unfairly handsome in a fitted black button-down and dark jeans. His eyes swept over me slowly and appreciatively.

“Happy birthday, Anna,” I said, handing her the gift.

She squealed when she opened it. “This is perfect! Thank you so much!” She hugged me again, then dragged me straight to the dining table.

Dinner was warm and lively. Bruce had prepared a beautiful meal….grilled steak, roasted vegetables, garlic bread, and Anna’s favorite pasta. We talked and gisted about everything…books, college, funny stories from the bookstore, even some light teasing about Anna’s “old man” dad burning toast that morning. Laughter filled the room.

But all I could think about was Bruce.

Every time he passed me the salt or poured more wine, his fingers would brush mine. Every deep laugh he gave made my thighs press together under the table. I kept imagining ways to steal a moment alone with him, maybe offering to help clear the dishes, or “accidentally” running into him in the kitchen later. What would happen if Anna went upstairs for something? Would he finally touch me the way I’d been fantasizing?

I smiled and nodded along as Anna chattered excitedly about turning 18 and all the freedom it meant, but my mind was elsewhere. On the way his shirt stretched across his chest. On how his voice dropped when he said my name. On how badly I wanted to feel his hands on me.

At one point, while Anna was laughing at something she’d said, Bruce’s foot lightly brushed mine under the table. He didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

After dessert, Anna excused herself to take a quick call from one of her cousins. I saw my chance.

“I’ll help clear the table and load the dishwasher,” I offered, already stacking plates.

Bruce’s eyes lit up. “I’d appreciate that, Mira.”

We moved to the kitchen together. The space felt smaller with just the two of us. We worked side by side, rinsing dishes and laughing about Anna’s dramatic reaction to her birthday cake. His arm brushed mine more than once. At one point he reached past me for a towel, his chest grazing my back, and I felt his breath against my hair.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said quietly, voice low enough that only I could hear. “That dress… It's been distracting me all evening.”

I turned to face him, cheeks burning, a shy smile playing on my lips. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

We were standing close, laughing softly about something silly when the front door suddenly opened.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

A tall, elegantly dressed woman walked in, heels clicking sharply against the floor. It was Anna’s mom. Her expression was tight, eyes scanning the house like she owned every inch of it (and us).

“Mom?” Anna appeared from the hallway, phone still in her hand. “You’re home! This is Mira, my friend from the bookstore. Mira, this is my mom.”

I smiled politely, stepping forward. “Nice to meet you…”

Anna’s mom barely glanced at me. Her gaze swept over me once, cold and dismissive, before she turned and walked straight upstairs without a word.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I felt my stomach drop. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I… I should probably head home,” I said softly, forcing a small smile. “Thank you so much for dinner. Happy birthday again, Anna.”

Anna looked mortified. “Mira, wait….I’m so sorry. She’s… she’s always like this when she comes back from trips. It’s not you.”

Bruce stepped closer, his hand hovering near my lower back but not touching it. “I’ll drop you off. It’s late.”

Before we could even move toward the door, Anna’s mom came back downstairs, arms crossed, voice sharp and accusing.

“Bruce, where do you think you’re going? You always find an opportunity to be alone with some lady. Are you really trying to go down with your daughter’s friend now?”

The words landed like a slap.

Anna gasped. “Mom!” she screamed, voice cracking with embarrassment and anger. “What is wrong with you?!”

I couldn’t breathe. My face burned with humiliation. Without another word, I grabbed my bag and hurried out the front door, the cool night air hitting me like a shock.

I didn’t wait. I walked quickly down the street, heart pounding, and flagged down the first cab I saw. Tears pricked at my eyes as I slid into the back seat, but I blinked them away.

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

**Anna:** Mira I’m so so sorry. She had no right. Please don’t hate me.

**Bruce:** (a few minutes later) I’m sorry about that. Are you okay? Let me know when you get home safely.

I stared at the messages, my chest was tight with a mix of embarrassment, anger… and that lingering pull toward Bruce that refused to die even after what just happened.

When I got home, I stormed into the house, the cab ride did nothing to cool the fire in my chest. I felt angry, humiliated and frustrated. The words kept looping in my head like a bad song.

My mom was on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She looked up with a bright smile. “Hey sweetie! How was Anna’s birthday dinner? Tell me everything….”