Page 8 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)

CHAPTER

FIVE

“Yeah?” Leah Miller deftly plucks a slivered almond from her flaky pastry, inspecting it between the pointed tips of her fingernails, painted a muted pink she calls ‘cotton candy.’ To me, it’s more ‘two-week-old lunch meat.’ She’s tilting her head now, her voice carrying a familiar lilt as she nudges me to take her place at yet another meeting—practically a carbon copy of the one I slogged through yesterday.

I shrug. “Yeah.”

Leah dismisses the almond with a flick of her wrist, letting it tumble onto the parchment, rejected after her meticulous scrutiny. She dives back in, prying another sliver from the battered Bear Claw, now picked apart like a stolen car in a chop shop, its pastry guts strewn across her desk.

“Jesus, Leah, just eat the thing! You’re like a toddler with how much you manhandle your food before you eat it!

” I shout, catching myself in time to lower the volume on the last few words.

Her jaw falls slack, filling the room with her surprise.

I raise my hands immediately, showing my palms in an act of contrition.

“Fuck, I’m—I’m sorry. I’m supremely grouchy today.

I apologize, I did not mean to snap at you. ”

The almond hits the parchment with a thunk amidst our new, now awkward silence. “It’s finally catching up to you, isn’t it?” she smirks, placing the pastry on the paper, abandoning her breakfast for me. Her sharp eyes tear into me, ripping me open to expose my mushy insides.

“What?” I breathe back, still trying to steady the irritation running rampant in my veins. Leah is not my enemy. In fact, aside from the guys, she’s a friend. A good friend. In many ways, arguably a better, closer friend than the guys because she knows me. Knows me.

“Hiding the fact that you’re a completely selfish asshole.

It’s wearing on you. Playing the quiet good guy is taking its toll.

That’s why you snapped,” she asserts, finally picking up her breakfast again.

She takes a bite, coating her lips in powdered sugar before reaching for her mug of coffee.

Her short, shrill slurps of her coffee grate on my nerves, each one a tiny jab.

Setting the mug down, she waves a sugar-coated finger my way.

“See? Even my sipping gets under your skin.”

I shake my head, lying like the liar that I am. “No, loud, disgusting, mannerless slurps are fine with me. I’m just tired.”

She snatches her mug, her sea-blue eyes narrowing to slits over the rim, daring me as she unleashes a series of deliberately loud, obnoxious slurps that hit like nails on a chalkboard.

I grind my teeth together. “Just take one big drink instead of those sips or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing!” I hiss, sliding my sweaty palms down my thighs.

Leah smiles. “I told you that you couldn’t fake being normal.

It’s too hard for evil people like us.” She takes another ambitious bite of pastry, talking with her mouth full, comfortable around me to her fullest extent.

We share that. I’m comfortable with her, too.

So comfortable that I don’t both hiding my irritation and annoyance from her.

For everyone else, I pretend to be a slightly more patient, kinder, shinier version of myself.

I’ll never admit that she’s right, and that even for the guys, I may slather happiness on a bit thicker than necessary.

I fold my arms over my chest, and settle deeper into the chair. “You were eating very annoyingly just now.”

She smiles, crooked and patronizing, the only smile of hers that I know. “Don’t forget the way I was drinking.”

“That, too.” I unfold my arms and scrub my hands down my face. “I am sorry though.”

Leah sinks her teeth into another bite of the pastry, letting the silence hang heavy as she chews with deliberate slowness, crumbs dusting her desk. Finally, she swallows and fixes me with a knowing look. “You know your attitude’s safe with me, West,” she says, her voice low, almost conspiratorial.

I nod my head and pull at the back of my neck before sliding my palms over my knees, gripping my blue jeans.

Leah takes a quiet sip of coffee to wash down the last of her pastry. “Why are you all, you know,” she begins mimicking me by fidgeting with her hands and legs before bringing her hands back to her mug. “Like that. What is your deal today, Bestie Westie? ”

I roll my eyes. “I hate that.”

Her smile is eerily big. “That’s why I love it so much. Because it really irritates you.”

I glare at her. “You’re like the older sister I never had.”

She roots around in her desk before passing me a manila folder covered in sticky notes.

“Here. The file on the petition for new guardrails on the bleachers—well, it’s a little broader than that, but essentially, the packet for funding.

Another meeting next week. You will be attending on behalf of Bluebell High as well as district staff.

” She makes a show of dusting her empty hands together after tossing the file in my lap.

“Giving you my grunt work. You really are like a little brother.”

What I failed to mention before, about coming to Bluebell and being the athletic director of the district, is that Leah was instrumental in making that happen.

The position didn’t exist, but she pulled all my prior work records, every review, every peer statement, and she rallied for the position to exist and to hire me for it.

She promised the district and all the towns in it that I would improve youth sports.

She believed in me, and we’ve been bonded as a result ever since.

Tipping back in her chair, she stacks her shiny aquamarine heels onto the edge of her desk, then levels her thick lashes in my direction. “What’s up your butt today, West?”

I let out a heavy sigh carrying the weight of my confession as I spill the truth.

“There’s this woman I’m talking to online, and I’m…

” falling hard for her, but because that’s far too intense for this moment, instead I say, “…catching feelings. Things are getting serious, but… we made a pact to keep our personal lives off the table for now. Wanted to test if the spark’s real before we even know what each other looks like. ”

Leah’s brows do a playful little jig, her eyes glinting with amusement. “How very You’ve Got Mail .”

I scrunch my face in disgust, leaning back. “Hardly. And, by the way, you might want to update your rom-com references. Tom Hanks’ character in that? Total capitalist, narcissistic, lying prick.”

Her grin widens, and she bolts upright, practically bouncing. “Wait, you finally watched it?”

I roll my eyes, dragging a hand down my face with a groan. “It was on cable the other day, okay?”

She wrinkles her nose like what I’ve said stinks. “The version they play on TV isn’t as good.”

“Doesn’t change his character,” I argue, then veer back to the topic we’re supposed to have at hand. Me. “Anyway, the more I talk to this woman, my feelings get… more serious. Like last night, I went out on this stupid blind date?—”

“Goode’s?” she asks, guessing where we ate.

I shake my head. “King Dum. She lives in Oakcreek.”

Leah nods, and as I continue, two junior coaches—Maven and Briar pass by.

The girls look into the office, spotting me first, then Leah next.

They each lift their hands in a passive wave, and Leah waves back.

Cadence Caine, the JV cheer coach, all blonde and leggy, appears behind them.

The three of them exchange words, and Leah nods to Cadence as if to tell her she needs another minute with me.

The girls leave Cadence, walking past Leah’s office toward the exit doors.

Leah smiles at them as they pass, adding, “I love King Dum.”

“Anyway, here I am sitting face to face with this beautiful, intelligent woman, and I can’t stop thinking about the woman online. The one who, for all intents and purposes, could be a total fucking troll.”

Leah drapes her hands over her chest, batting her eyes. “But it’s what’s inside that counts. ”

I groan. “You know what I’m saying. I’m starting to feel like I need to know who she is and what she looks like. You can try and paint me as shallow but you know as good as I do that the physical attraction needs to be there.”

Leah tousles her hair while looking in a compact mirror she pulled from her top desk drawer. After deciding her hair is adequate, she snaps the mirror shut. “I know, I know. I just like making you, in particular, feel bad about it for some reason.”

“Abuse of your authority,” I deadpan.

She eyes the folder for the upcoming meeting. “Now that’s an abuse of authority,” she says of the file. “So the date wasn’t great?”

I shrug. “It was fine but I didn’t give a shit about it because the whole time I kept thinking about the woman online.” I drop my voice a bit. “She’s into everything I’m into.”

Leah sits up straight at her desk. “Ooohhh,” she draws out. “She likes herself a Daddy ?”

I shake my head and bury the bridge of my nose in my fingers. “Don’t do that. Don’t… do that .”

Leah’s laughter slices through the tension, lightening the air effortlessly.

Awkward for me, of course—never for her.

Five years ago, in this same cramped office, we got spectacularly drunk after the first day of school, spilling our guts over cheap wine.

I laid bare my messy divorce; she unloaded her life’s tangled crap.

Since then, she’s made a sport of teasing me, her jabs sharp but warm.

And, honestly? I secretly love it. I love knowing someone who knows me and likes me anyway.

Leah has this way of making my thing feel okay, like the problem isn’t within me but rather the narrow-minded side-eyes from everyone else. In her eyes, I’m not some broken puzzle needing a therapist’s fix—I’m just me, and that’s okay .

“Okay so… you two are moving slowly. Why can’t you just sit back and enjoy the process?” she asks, retrieving the compact mirror again, this time to slather on a new coat of lipstick.

“Because…” I admit, feeling childish in my reasoning, but they are my truths nonetheless. “It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had an enjoyable relationship. I’m goddamn impatient, Leah!”

“Well,” she starts, shoving her things away to get to her feet, righting herself in her two-piece suit. “Life’s a bitch and then you die. Get over it. If your anonymous caller wants to remain strangers a bit longer, she’s got you by the shorthairs.”

I get to my feet, too. “That was horrible advice.”

Leah hustles me out, shutting the office door with a soft click as Cadence Caine sidles up, an awkward smile on her face. I flash Cadence a quick grin while Leah’s voice cuts through, sharp and certain. “That wasn’t advice, my friend—that was straight-up truth.”