Page 288 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

MAC

“That was one hell of a woman,” Dad said from the passenger seat of my truck, the country music coming from the stereo was turned down to be background noise. We were halfway back to Hunter Valley.

Andy was conked out in the backseat, head tilted back, mouth open, Mickey hat crooked. He’d made it as far as the first stoplight after the airport before he fell asleep.

“Who?” I asked, adjusting the rearview mirror, which didn’t really need it.

“Who?” he repeated. I could see out of the corner of my eye he was giving me a look. “Georgia. The pretty woman from the plane. I didn’t miss the way you looked at her.”

“She was pretty.” Admitting anything else would be stupid.

He held up his hands. “Beautiful. All woman. None of that I-can-open-a-pickle-jar-on-my-own shit.”

I laughed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a woman who opens her own pickle jar,” I countered, defending women everywhere. For a second, I thought that was a euphemism for the vibrator in her suitcase and taking care of her own needs. But Dad actually meant opening a real pickle jar.

“Sure, they can. But why would they want to?” he asked.

Wait, maybe he was talking about the vibrator and self-pleasure after all.

“When Mom–”

Gah. No. No euphemism. NO.

“I know,” I cut in, switching back to his original intent because I wasn’t thinking about the memory of my mother and a vibrator at the same time. “Mom let you take care of her.”

She died fifteen years ago. I missed the hell out of her. So did Dad, who’d spent his life taking care of her. Being a gentleman. Chivalrous. I couldn’t help but smile that Andy had picked up on that and applied it to Georgia.

Mom had taken care of Dad in return, although he’d never say it. He hadn’t even gone on a date since she passed, not interested in settling down again. Or, as he put it, never found a woman he liked to help with her pickle jar.

Me? I had a few serious relationships, but nothing that stuck.

I wanted the love my parents had, but at my age, I was starting to wonder if it was ever going to happen.

Sure, there were plenty of women in Hunter Valley who didn’t mind a single dad.

I had the baggage of a precocious first grader.

And a dangerous job that took up a ton of my time.

As fire chief, I was always on call and spent half my nights sleeping at the station.

Andy wouldn’t go without, but I wasn’t rich.

There was no retirement in my future or private jets at my disposal like some of my friends.

What did I have to offer a woman besides my jar opening strength?

Hell, I couldn’t even manage a trip to the barber lately.

“Exactly,” Dad said, but I forgot what we were talking about. “You just need to find the right woman. You want someone who wants you. Needs you.”

I turned my head, gave him a bored glance, then focused back on the road. “Of course, I want a woman who wants me.”

“I don’t mean your dick. I mean your heart.”

I peeked in the rearview mirror at Andy, who was out cold.

“After the weekend we had, he won’t wake up until morning.”

The sun was just setting, which meant the end of another full day for the little guy, so Dad was probably right.

“I’m surprised you’re still conscious.” Dad wasn’t all that old. Only sixty-five. He was spry. Liked to keep busy. Fit, too. But two days at Disney with a six-year-old plus travel could wear anyone out.

He laughed. “I’m going to bed as soon as you drop me off. But you’re redirecting.”

I shrugged. “There’s no reason to redirect. The woman who sat next to you is a pretty woman. I helped her with her bag.”

The missing belt around my waist was proof of that.

He didn’t say anything, so I pushed on. I wasn’t sure if I was telling this to him or to myself. “Ten minutes at the airport doesn’t make a relationship. My heart didn’t have time to get involved.” Nor my dick.

I was stating a fact, but it was also a shame. I had no idea I had a thing for full-sized, high maintenance women with a southern twang.

I never considered that watching a woman fuck herself with a purple dildo was a thing.

Had I, like the younger guys at the station liked to say, had a kink unlocked?

It was just hot as hell. Would Georgia use it tonight in her hotel room?

Of course, she would. Why else would she pack it if not to use it?

Dad sighed. I shifted in my seat because my dick was still fucking hard.

“What?” I asked, knowing that sound had lots of meaning behind it.

“You need to date. Meet women. Get laid.”

I gritted my teeth. We didn’t talk about sex all that much and I was way too old for the birds and bees discussion.

“I have a kid. A job with a crazy work schedule and the fundraiser coming up. I just got the first reservation for the rental over the garage. Arriving tonight sometime. A little too hard to get laid when I’m busy. ”

“No smart man is too busy for sex,” he said.

I frowned because he was right. “You saying I’m stupid?”

“I’m saying… hell, I don’t know what I’m saying.

Andy’s right. He needs a mom. You’re doing an amazing job, son.

Between the two of us, that kid knows he’s loved.

But he needs a woman in his life. Her love, which is different than what either of us can give him.

Besides, he needs one to practice that chiv-ree on. ”

What Dad didn’t say hung heavy in the air between us.

Andy had a mother. Tracy. My sister, his daughter.

But she was no mom. She got hooked on drugs in college and could never kick them.

Miraculously, she’d stayed clean during her pregnancy, but chose drugs over her own son a week after he was born.

Over her family. She’d left Hunter Valley, and we hadn’t seen or heard from her since.

Andy needed a woman who’d stick. Who’d put him first.

“You’re right. He does. I’m working on it,” I muttered, flicking my blinker.

I saw him arch a gray brow as I turned right at the intersection.

“I’m well aware of your crazy life and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished,” he said.

Raising a kid.

Being fire chief.

I wasn’t broke, but extra income only helped.

We came up with the idea to convert the unused space over my unattached garage into a short-term rental.

Hunter Valley was a vacation destination, and I was ready to cash in on that.

It wasn’t the new James Inn, that was for sure, but having guests stay–and pay–would help with Andy’s college fund.

“Thanks,” I said, meaning it. My dad’s praise held value. “I couldn’t do it without you.” Like giving Andy a trip to see Mickey Mouse and friends.

He waved me off. “We’re family.”

He had his own house around the corner, but stayed over when I worked my twenty-four hour shifts at the fire station, taking Andy to and from school, doing the laundry, grocery shopping and cooking.

He was my man nanny. My manny, although I wouldn’t dare call him that to his face.

He was just Grumpy, what Andy started calling him instead of Grampy when first learning to talk.

“Crazy life or not, you might need to work on it a little harder. You need to find time for a woman.”

“The right woman,” I clarified. I was too old to fuck around, no matter what my dick told me.

“Too bad it won’t be Georgia,” he said. “I really liked her, and Andy sure had his heart set on her.”

I was quiet as I turned down Dad’s street, worried that Andy’s obsession with having a mom was unhealthy. “Yeah. Andy has good taste. Did you learn anything about her on the flight?”

He eyed me. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, I said I wouldn’t see her again.”

He laughed. “Andy didn’t give her too much chance to talk.”

I could imagine.

“She’s from some small town outside of Atlanta.”

“Georgia from Georgia?”

“Yup. In Montana for work. No kids. Divorced.”

“Andy asked her that?” I pulled into his driveway, put my truck in park. Patches of snow lingered on the front lawn. Neighbors’ lights were on. Everyone was having dinner or settling in for the night.

He shrugged and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“Sure did. One hell of a woman. Even if she doesn’t have superheroes on her underwear.”

I couldn’t help but grin. He grinned back.

I shook my head because even after a short meeting, I felt a pang of disappointment at not seeing Georgia again. “Superheroes or lavender lace, she was only a beautiful woman at the airport. Nothing more. I won’t see her again.”