Chapter 14

Polly

N ot just for me, but for many women over thirty—particularly those playing with a younger man—there comes a moment when she must decide what kind of woman she is. A liar. Or a teller of truths.

I knew which I was.

Oblivious to my fib, Luca yawned, stretched out his long, muscular legs, and drifted off. It was not cute. Not at all. And I had no intention of hanging around, watching his unfairly long lashes form shadows on his cheeks, but I did. The rhythmic sounds of his breathing soon sent me to sleep too.

I woke grinning but conflicted. The rightness of Luca’s presence. The comfort I found in his bulking arm slung over my waist, the warm tickle of his breath on my neck was unexpected. As was the guilt.

Revealing the true me was like snuggling—not my thing. Yet I was melting into his touch, wanting to bare my soul.

His slow and steady breaths quickened. Is he awake? The monster between his legs, pressing into the small of my back certainly was. Testing, I pushed my ass into the bay of his hips and was rewarded with a rumbling chuckle and groan as he thrust against me. It was a dangerous game I was playing. Cowboy should have ridden off into the sunset a beat after making me come. But he hadn’t. And I was far from inclined to analyze why. There were many more enjoyable things I’d rather be doing.

Before I could enact the filthy thoughts filling my mind, there was a hurried knock on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Luna half whispered, “But I thought you might like to know your dad is here.”

“Shitballs!” In a flurry of movement, Luca cursed and flipped onto his feet. As I laughed, he hauled me up with one hand, grunting as he tugged my skirt over my ass with the other. “This is not funny, Princess.”

“No, it really is.”

When Dad burst through the door seconds later, he was eyeing Luna—whom he saw as a strange woman hovering by his office door—over his shoulder. He then got the fright of his life when he turned to find yet another stranger. This one was nodding at nothing, caressing a plant in a way not dissimilar to how his tongue had earlier done to my cunt, and standing stiff as a board. Beside him was me, his daughter, a sublime picture of innocence with my hands clasped before me, my head titled, and my smile sickly sweet.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Please don’t say that.” Luca groaned without averting his gaze.

Dad’s smile was warm and sincere but failed to conceal the squint of suspicion around his eyes. “Plop, what are you doing in here? Henry’s flat chat by himself. And who’s your friend?”

“This is Luca. He’s not my friend, just a patron and fellow fern lover. When I told him about your collection, he was positively busting to get in here and get his hands wet.”

Poor Luca choked on air, and I discovered the blushing was innocence. Dad’s smile grew exponentially. “Ahh, another genus Adiantum fan, eh?”

I nudged Luca into action.

“Oh, me. Oh, oh, yep. I love them. Can’t get enough,” he replied, his eyes wide, his smile toothy and sweet. It was annoyingly endearing. This guy was more dangerous than I could ever have expected.

Dad hobbled his way over, sizing Luca up on each step. “I began collecting them while studying Greek mythology to impress my then girlfriend, now wife. Did you know the name genus Adiantum is derived from the Greek for “unwetted” and was given to the maidenhair because of the way water rolls off the fronds, leaving them looking dry even when soaked? Also, another interesting tidbit: the pinnae, the leaves,” he said most seriously and an inch from Luca’s confused face, “Were thought to resemble the hair of the goddess Venus. She was born from the sea, fully formed, and emerged with dry hair, thus another link.”

“Wow, Thanks, Dad.” I groaned. “There are a few seconds of my life I’m never getting back.” He scoffed and started towards his desk. “And I’d hate to tell you, but Venus was Roman. Not Greek.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Plop. As you can imagine, your mum cleared that up for me the second it left my lips. Her rage made me want her even more.”

“Eww. Please stop.” I hooked my arm into Luca’s and began to drag him to the door but withdrew it almost instantly. Luca was supposed to be a stranger. That was too intimate. For dad’s benefit and mine. “Right then, Mr. … um … Luca. Now that you’ve seen the plants let me take you back to the bar. I’m sure your friend is probably still waiting for you outside.”

“My friend?” Luca seemed a little confused but most likely was as desperate to leave as I was. “Right. My friend. Sure.” His eyes were on me as I gave a short wave to Dad, mischief crinkling them at the corners as they switched. “Your house plants are very fine specimens, Mr.?”

The bastard.

“Hart.” Dad finished, extending his hand for Luca to shake. “Murray Hart.” His grip was maintained, and he may have even pulled Luca closer. “You know I have a greenhouse out back between the pub and our home. Fellow green thumbs are welcome anytime. Especially ones who are friends of Po—”

“Not friends!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, cutting Dad off and dragging Luca away. “Not friends, he’s just a random patron. Remember. Just another annoying, thirsty tourist.” We were out the door before Dad could reply.

“So, Miss Hart,” Luca smirked, dimples popping. “Miss, P-something Hart. What time do you finish? I want to take you out. Maybe for a drink or something to eat. A walk on the beach would be—”

“Uh-uh,” I snapped while leading Luca to the main bars. “One time, remember? You had your shot, and you shot it... without shooting it. Too bad you. We are done, my friend.”

Luca smiled, showcasing the dimples so beautiful they were almost blinding. “Ahh, but you admit that we’re friends. That’s a start, at least.”

“Ughh.” I rolled my eyes, accidentally squeezed his massive bicep for the final time, and then released my grip. “Not friends. Not acquaintances. Not anything but a second, one-time. That’s my rule, remember?” I tried to shove him away. He didn’t budge.

“Since I still don’t know your real name, Princess Jasmine Poppy Plop Hart, I choose to ignore that rule and give you one of my own instead.”

“Oh, really? And what might that be?”

Luca hooked his finger into the pocket of my apron and pulled me against his body. “Simple. All due respect to your father—the man who raised you to be the beautiful, confident young woman standing before me—but from now on, I’m the only man you call daddy. Got it?”

Goosebumps, weak knees, and a lump of desire awkwardly lodging between heart and throat may have been the average girl’s reaction, but, as I reminded myself, I was a cold-hearted bitch. Normal human-like responses were not for me. “Whatever you say da … da…” His eyebrows rose in anticipation. “... Cowboy.”

Why couldn’t my dad be an ass like my mum? No, he was friendly, full of smiles and good humor as he led Luna, and Luca, the man who just ate me out on his desk, to the main bar. This was going to be hell.

“Stay and have a beer? As you may have seen before the fern tour, our Polly is quite the barkeep. Can whip up a head better than anyone.” Poor Luca almost choked on his tongue. “You right?” Dad fussed, concern flitting across his face as he slapped Luca on the back.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Yep. I’m fine, sir.” Luca coughed, a cute blush draining from his face. “Just swallowed... uh I mean ate ... no...”

Thoroughly entertained, I pulled a clean glass from the tray and positioned it beneath the beer tap, working it up and down several times while biting my lip.

“Do you like Guinness, son?” Dad pulled Luca onto a stool beside him, and Luna left for dead, sneaking behind the bar with me. “We have an authentic tap that requires two pulls. Well, in truth it doesn’t need two pulls, you just get more cream if you do two pulls. Show him that, Plop. I’ve never seen a man that didn’t enjoy watching you do two pulls.”

Almost translucent, Luca groaned. Luna laughed. Dad remained clueless, imparting the secret to the time-honored two-part pour method to the squirming hot man. Laying her head on my shoulder, Luna whispered. “Say what you like Pol, but you do like him. Judging by the filthy moans I heard through the door I had my ear pressed against, your vajayjay does too.”

“Please don’t mention my vajayjay while dad is within earshot.”

“Fine,” she said, her hands up in surrender, “it’s okay for your dad to boast how you give men the perfect cream-producing head, but not for me to mention you receiving it. Gotcha.”

Disregarding our snickers Dad waffled for another minute or two, but when Luca began wilting to one side, it was time to intervene. “Have you watered the ferns today, Dad? Luca mentioned they looked a bit dry.”

“Did they?” Dad rubbed his chin, “Bugger, you know I don’t think I did before I left for the hospital.” Flustered, he took off with a quick wave leaving two just two bodies I needed to clear out.

“Oh, would you look at that, my Uber is here.” Luna tapped the bar and slid off her stool.

“Luna, you can’t see outside, and your phone is right there.” I pointed to the phone that had not pinged, dinged, or ringed.

“Yes, but I can sense it’s close. Luca, it was a pleasure to see you again. Shame you weren’t naked, but we can’t have it all. Polly.” Sliding her phone into her hand, she looked at me and shrank into her shoulders. “Call me?” It was more query that statement, knowing I might never speak to her again.

A busload of tourists eager to try our range of local brews kept me busy for the next hour, which was good since Luca had set up permanent residence on a stool at the end of the bar. Rarely did he stop moving, fingers rolling straws, spinning empty glasses, tapping on muscular things, legs stretching, ankles rolling. The setting sun cast an amber glow over his olive skin, making the most attractive man I’d ever seen, a thing of greater beauty.

“So, you know sign language? Why is that? He snuck in between customers, his hand clutching the collar of his tee tugging it lower to expose the sharp edges of the clavicle and a hint of pectorals I wanted to lick. I tore my eyes away from the muscle, rolled my eyes like the whole thing, him being here all puppy-like and sweet was a chore instead of the most fun I’d had in a very, very long time. ”I learned to sign because my gran, dads mum, was deaf. She and my other gran, my yia-yia, were my refuge when mum got too much. Being able to speak to her in sign was like having our own secret little language.

“Wow, that’s cool. Teach me some?”

“No,”

“Why not?” He bounced again and fuck me if it wasn’t adorable. “I’m not the smartest guy, but I think you know I’m good with my hands.”

Tilting my head to the side, I quirked my brow. “Really?”

“Come on Princess. Just one thing ... or two, or three. I’ve nowhere to be, and no one else I want to see.”

“Oh, you’re a cornball poet now. Great.”

A smile bloomed across his face and another part of me defrosted. “For you, I’m anything and everything.”

Fighting back a grin, I tossed my beer-soaked cloth against the beer and sighed. “Jesus Christ. Does this shit work on girls at home?”

“Some. But I haven’t tried it out in a long time, and just for clarity,” he paused, color painting his cheeks, as his head dropped. “I might have tried it out on guys, too. I normally wouldn’t put it out there like that, but I’d rather me tell you than Google.”

Affections I did not want to acknowledge swelled in my belly. As too did a desire to brush the dark locks from those moody blue eyes. “Luca, you don’t have to justify yourself to anyone, but especially not me. I’m hardly the spokesperson for virtuousness ... as I think you well know.”

He looked up through his lashes, his eyes dripping with sincerity. “Your opinion matters to me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Well...” holding his breath, though waiting for the right thing to say to fall from his mouth. “It does. So there.”

This guy is too cute. I mussed for the hundredth time.

“Fine. I will teach you three signs and then you will leave and not come back. We’re done here.”

I ignored the dimpled grin and excited bouncing and instead served the next patron, willing my feelings to flow through me as easily as the beer did from the tap,