Chapter 4
Chapter four
Rowen
November
Part of the reason I wanted to start my own business was seeing the freedom my dad had with no boss. It was a lot of work to be the person in charge of everything, and I couldn’t have done it without his support, but the biggest motivation was being a self-sufficient person.
Spending my first six years in foster care made me crave the ability to take care of myself. And I had an excellent example.
My dad had always been a co-owner of Motorvated, and he got to pick which customers he worked with. He even turned business away. I didn’t have that luxury my first few years, which was why I’d started offering boat tours and being a fishing guide on the lake.
Five years later, I had a thriving business and rarely had to interact with the general public. Which was why, when someone knocked on the side of the boat I was chest deep in, I banged my head.
Hard.
“Ow, fuck! Who the hell-?” I rubbed at the back of my head where my bun had been no help. Forgetting the grease on my hand in my rush to check if I was bleeding, I knew I’d be scrubbing my hair in the shower. I healed fast, and actually better than a wolf shifter, but still. Ow.
“Just me,” a familiar voice chuckling had me sighing instead of yelling.
My dad was grey at his temples, his hair close cropped where mine was long. He wore his leather motorcycle club jacket over a plain white T-shirt and black jeans. The patch that used to read “Vice President” now read “Treasurer,” but I knew it was his choice.
“Hey, Superman. Don’t you have your own business to run?” I called out to my dad as I wiped my hands on a rag and clambered out to find him lounging in a folding chair with one of my usual beers in hand. “Did you stop by my place?”
Dad lifted the can in a gesture toward the houseboat, which was visible from my open shop door. “I could’ve looked there first, but I brought these for you, so no complainin’. It’s quittin’ time, kid.”
The sun was almost fully set over the hills across the lake, with very little light left in the sky. In November, that meant it was around five-o-clock. He could see in dim lighting almost as well as I could, and there were overhead lights, so I hadn’t noticed the late hour.
“You’re getting old if you think the sun setting means you stop working.”
“Work to live, don’t live to work,” Dad told me philosophically before tossing me a second can from the six pack I noticed under his chair. I caught it and dropped onto an overturned bucket in front of him. “Done anything fun, lately?”
“I went fishing this morning,” I pointed out, popping my can open and taking a drink before adding, “and I even took a boat out with bait instead of my daily swim.”
Dad narrowed his eyes, “Were there also customers on the boat?”
Damn. He knew me too well.
When Dad adopted me, he was only twenty-seven.
Old enough to be my biological father, but that still had him barely over forty when I moved out.
He’d learned how to be a dad while I learned how to be in a stable home, and we always had a no secrets policy.
Compared to my friends in the pack, I was an easy kid to raise, and had few problems getting along in the decades since I came into his life.
He knew me, but I knew him as well.
“You know there were,” I finally admitted. “But what brings you by, outside of insulting my lack of a social life?”
My dad regarded me over his can, finishing it off before crushing the aluminum and tossing it into my recycling bin where the metal crashed into plastic. He made a fake crowd cheering noise and I couldn’t help smiling at his antics.
“You’d have to have a life for me to insult it,” Dad teased and I barked out a laugh at his comment. “But I am worried about you.”
Rolling my eyes, I set my beer aside and crossed my arms. “Don’t be. Business is good. I leave the shop every day. I go to pack meetups with the guys when I feel like it. I’m fine.”
Dad sighed and set his new drink aside as well. Leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, Dad raised a single brow. It was a move he’d perfected when I said something similar in my teens.
Staring him down, Dad broke before I did. “I don’t want you to be only about your business and the pack. Not like I have been.”
“What’s wrong with being like you?” I countered. “You’re my Superman for a reason.”
“And I’m lonely as hell most days,” Dad admitted and I took in a sharp breath. We didn’t have secrets, but he’d never said he was lonely before. “I don’t want that for you.”
“I’m not–” I started.
How did I explain I wasn’t lonely or seeking companionship in the way he meant? He took me at my word in high school when I said I didn’t want to date. But I had come to new conclusions since then. There was also the fact that talking about my sex life—or lack thereof—with my dad was weird.
“Not what?” He prompted.
Swallowing down the emotions threatening to choke off my voice, I cleared my throat and spat it out. “I’m ace. Or probably Demi.”
Dad sat back and rubbed his short facial hair. “Okay.” He paused to see if I would speak again, then went on. “What does that mean for you?”
He was always good about asking how I felt on the big things rather than jumping to conclusions, much to my chagrin as a teenager. As an adult, I still wasn’t sure I was a fan. Who wanted to dissect their innermost thoughts out loud?
“I’m not attracted to people…sexually. At least I wasn’t,” I added, thinking of how Cam had featured in a few recent dreams where I’d woken up horny. “I think I need to know someone first before I’m into them.”
“So, the daily visits to the new cafe aren't only for the salted caramel treat?”
My head whipped up to see Dad smirking at me. Did he read my mind? No, Perk was across the street from Motorvated. He probably saw me there. Plus, I’d been dropping off pastries and coffee to him more often. Of course Dad knew how often I stopped by the cafe.
“They did name a drink after me,” I muttered with a shrug. Picking up my drink, I felt my cheeks heat and used the can to hide.
“It’s not because of the cute new barista, then?”
Choking on the drink I’d just taken, I glared at Dad who was still smirking knowingly. I knew he went to Napa or down to San Francisco for a date sometimes, but I’d never asked what gender person he hooked up with. One, he was my dad. Ew. And two, I didn’t care.
“You think Cam is cute?” I eventually asked, then realized my mistake. I’d never said their name. “I mean…Cam is new to town, so I assume you meant them.”
“Mmm-hmm, sure.” Dad’s grin split across his face and I knew I had to be red from my collar to the tips of my ears.
“If you like them younger, I know a certain shifter who loves to talk about you,” I countered, thinking of Ricky. The MMA fighter and bartender was only a couple years older than me, and a self proclaimed ‘man-slut’, but I was fairly certain he was joking about my dad.
“No. Ricky? No, of course not,” Dad scowled and stood to face out the open door to the dark lake. He downed his drink and tossed the second can with the first. “How could you suggest–? No.”
Interesting. Dad knew who I was talking about just like he had with Cam.
Though Ricky was in our pack, and I’d heard my friend say lewd and suggestive things straight to him.
Was he freaking out of Ricky being a man?
I’d never known my dad to be homophobic, but I’d never insinuated he might like a man, either.
“Sorry, I was just joking.”
Dad sighed and turned around to face me. “No reason to be sorry. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me about being demi.”
There seemed to be something more he wanted to say. “But?”
“No buts,” Dad replied and then chuckled. “Well, maybe one butt?”
“Geez, Dad,” I rolled my eyes and shoved at his shoulder. “I’ll think about it.”
Dad hugged me and said goodbye, leaving the rest of the beers for me to take home. I closed up my shop and walked a few feet to my home on the water. Once I was inside and cleaned up, I flopped onto my bed.
Cam did attract me more than anyone ever had. They had said something about getting pizza, and it took me a week to realize Cam meant to ask me on a date. A month later and I hadn’t built up the courage to bring up the request again in case they meant as a friend.
Maybe Cam really did mean to ask me on a date?
Closing my eyes, I felt hope bloom in my chest. I had been honest when I said I didn’t want to be around anyone I didn’t choose.
But maybe I wanted to be around Cam more than at the cafe…