Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(34)

I'd never lied to my dad. I didn’t think any of us ever had. Sure, with mom we'd bend the truth, but Shane, Reggie and I could always talk to our father. He wasn't a judging man. He had a vastly open mind when it came to most things. When we were teenagers, he’d spoken candidly about his own life experiences, both good ones and not so good ones. I think it made us feel like we could tell him the truth about anything.

“Yeah. It's a guy friend.”

“Hmm. Good guy?” he asked still not meeting my eyes. Pretending to watch the game, he leaned back into his seat to hear me as best as he could with Mariners’ fans whooping and hollering around us.

“I don't really know. I don't know him that well. We met at Micah's graduation. Well, the night before.”

He thought for a while, quietly.

I couldn't resist looking back at my phone. It had buzzed twice while I was talking to Dad.

Casey: Hey. Where'd ya go?

Casey: Are you trying to remember bike riding or blow jobs? Send another picture.

I quickly thumbed back.

Me: I'm with my dad. No blow job texts. No more pictures for you.

Me: I'll text you later. Have a fun ride.

I pocketed my phone and decided that the combination of beer, my dad, and Casey were not good. The three were a little difficult to manage at once. I settled for beer and Dad at the moment. Casey later.

“So what's—” my dad paused, waiting for me to fill in the blank with Casey's name.

“My friend.” He cocked his head at me and gave me a cut-the-shit look. “All right, Casey. His name is Casey.”

“Casey. So what's this Casey-friend like?”

I puckered my lips off to one side in contemplation. I didn't know a lot of things about him, just the basics.

“He's a twin. Micah's boyfriend Cory's twin actually. It's weird. Their identical, but they don't look that much alike.”

He didn't understand what I was saying.

“They look different. They have different styles and hair. He has crazy hair. It's all over the place. Big curls. Messy.” I considered showing him the picture. Then, decided what the hell.

I fished my phone back out and tapped the picture from the text so that only the picture could be viewed.

“See?”

My dad studied it and then smiled. “That's some hair.”

I took my phone back, taking a minute to look at the picture of him smiling brightly. His bicep was flexed holding the water slightly above his head. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and the lime green aviator sunglasses he'd bought when I was with him. He was hot.

“He's fun to talk to,” I said shrugging as I leaned over toward my dad and returned my phone to my pocket.

“What does he do for a living?” What a dad question to ask.

“He's a brewer. He works for Bay Brewing Company. He actually just got promoted or something and he's doing sales for them. I think he's worked there a long time.” I tried to remember more of our conversation from the night at HLS, when he told me I was drinking his beer, but I wasn't paying close enough attention to what he was telling me. I was too busy watching his lips move and imagining what they’d feel like flush against my…well, everything.

The sun started to make its way to the opposite side of the field and I had to pull my sunglasses down from my hair and wear them.

Finally my dad said, “I always wanted to brew my own beer.” He smiled. He didn't push or pry, but I could see so many unasked questions in his expression. “Sounds like a cool guy.”

“Very cool,” I said before I thought better of it.

His head snapped to me and I gave a terrible fake impression of a smile.

“Not cooler than me, though.”

“No. Of course. You're the coolest man I know.”

“Good. You're the coolest girl I know.”

My faux-smile transformed into the real thing. I swelled with pride. “You think I'm cool?” I laughed and leaned forward to grab the beer I'd set on the cement between my feet.

He winked. “As far as women go, yeah. You're cool.”

“Cooler than Mom?”

A mischievous smile crept across his face. He adored my mom, but I was his baby girl. This was a true test.

“Let's just say you have more cool than her on account of your genetics. It's only logical that you're doubly cool because of your parents. I guess that makes you lucky, too.” My dad, so witty.