Page 7 of Tentacles for Christmas

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.”