Loving my fathers best friend.

Chapter 7; What am i doing

ALEX

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

From the second Bella walked into the backyard at the barbecue, something shifted. She wasn’t the gangly college kid I remembered.

She was a woman with curves, confidence, that auburn hair catching the light, green eyes that hit me square in the chest.

I’d hugged her hello like always, but my arms registered the difference. Soft. Warm. Real. I pulled away too fast, told myself it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

All week at the office I’d fought it. Her desk right next to mine. The way she leaned in when we reviewed files, her scent drifting over something light and sweet that made my brain short-circuit. Accidental brushes of hands. Her laugh when she nailed a tough client note. The fitted blouses that hugged her in ways I had no business noticing.

I kept telling myself she was Robert’s daughter.

My best friend’s little girl. The kid I’d helped with homework and pushed on swings. Fifteen years between us. A whole lifetime of “off-limits.”

But damn, the pull was getting stronger every day.

Then came last night.

The office empty. Just us. Late hours on the Thompson campaign. She looked tired but beautiful under the low lights. We took a break in the break room. Coffee. Small talk.

Then she stepped closer.

And kissed me. God, that kiss.

Soft at first. Hesitant. Then I kissed her back before my brain caught up. For one stupid second it felt right her mouth moving with mine, her body pressing close. My hand found her waist like it belonged there.

Then reality slammed in.

I jerked away. “No. We can’t.”

The look on her face nearly killed me. Hurt. Confusion. Rejection. I saw it all flash across those green eyes.

I tried to explain. Robert. The age gap. My position. Every word sounded lame even to me. She shut down fast. Walked back to her desk like I’d slapped her.

We finished the work in dead silence. The drive down in the elevator felt like torture. I apologized in the parking lot. She barely looked at me.

I drove home hating myself.

Now it was Friday morning and her desk sat empty.

No Bella.

Robert mentioned she called in sick. Headache or something. I knew better. She was avoiding me. And I deserved it.

The office felt too quiet without her. I sat at my desk, staring at the same spreadsheet for twenty minutes. Every time I glanced at her empty chair, guilt twisted harder in my gut.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I was forty. Divorced. Raising Emily alone. I had no business noticing how Bella’s skirt hugged her hips or how her voice softened when she said my name. She was twenty-five. Just starting out. Smart, ambitious, full of life.

And my best friend’s daughter.

Robert would kill me. Hell, I’d kill me if I were in his shoes.

I rubbed my face, trying to shake the memory of her lips. The way she’d tasted. The tiny sound she made when I kissed her back.

It had felt good.

Too good.

That was the problem.

I forced myself to work. Answered emails. Joined a couple calls. But my mind kept drifting. To her hurt expression. To how I’d wanted to pull her back in instead of pushing her away.

By late afternoon the guilt was eating me alive. I texted Robert a quick update on the campaign, and avoided asking about Bella. Which was a Coward move.

I left the office early. The rain had started again typical Seattle. I drove home replaying the week.

The charged looks across the yard at the barbecue. The way she’d stumbled into me and I’d caught her, my hand on her waist longer than necessary. The elevator rides where I’d had to stare at the floor to keep from staring at her.

I’d noticed her. Really noticed her. And instead of shutting it down like a responsible adult, I’d let the tension build.

Now she was hurting. Because of me.

I pulled into the driveway of our suburban house. Lights were on inside. Emily was home from school.

I killed the engine and sat there a minute, gripping the wheel.

Emily came first. Always. After Lauren left five years ago, it had been just the two of us. I couldn’t afford to mess that up. Couldn’t afford to blow up my friendship with Robert or the business we’d built together.

I needed to fix this. Keep my distance. Be the professional. Be the uncle figure again.

Even if it killed me.

I grabbed my bag and headed inside.

“Daddy!”

Emily’s voice rang out from the living room. She bounded toward me in her school uniform, pigtails bouncing. Ten years old and already smarter than me on most days.

“Hey, kiddo.” I dropped my bag and scooped her up in a hug. She was getting heavier, but I still loved these moments. “How was school?”

“Boring. We had a math test. But I think I aced it.”

She pulled back, studying my face with those sharp blue eyes that were so much like mine.

“You look tired. Did you have a bad day?”

I forced a smile. “Long day at the office. Nothing serious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You always say that when something’s wrong.”

Smart kid.

I ruffled her hair. “Come on. Help me make dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Pizza?” she asked hopefully.

I laughed. “We had pizza two nights ago.”

“Fine. Tacos?”

“Tacos it is.”

We moved to the kitchen together. She climbed onto her stool at the counter while I pulled out ground beef, tortillas, and all the fixings. Normal routine. Safe.

As I browned the meat, Emily chattered about her day her best friend’s new puppy, the upcoming science fair, how she wanted to do a project on volcanoes.

I listened, nodding, asking questions. But part of me was still back in that break room. Bella’s hand on my arm. Her lips on mine.

And the guilt hit me again.

Here I was, making dinner for my daughter, while I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing my best friend’s twenty-five-year-old daughter.

What kind of man did that make me?

“Daddy, you’re burning the beef,” Emily said, pointing.

I cursed under my breath and stirred quickly. “Thanks for the save.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome. You’re distracted today.”

I glanced at her. “Yeah. Work stuff.”

“Does it have to do with Bella?” she asked casually, grabbing the cheese shredder.

I nearly dropped the spatula. “Why would you say that?”

“She wasn’t at the barbecue much after you talked to her. And you’ve been weird since she came home.” Emily shrugged like it was obvious. “Plus she’s pretty. And nice.”

I swallowed hard. “Bella’s… family. Sort of. We work together now. That’s all.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

I changed the subject fast. “How about you set the table while I finish this?”

She hopped down, but not before giving me one more knowing look.

We ate at the kitchen table. Emily told me more stories. I laughed in the right places, asked follow-up questions. She was my world. The reason I got up every morning and kept pushing after the divorce. Lauren had walked out, chasing something “better.” I’d picked up the pieces for Emily.

I couldn’t let anything threaten that stability.

After dinner we did homework together at the table. Math problems. She was quick with numbers, just like her old man. I helped when she got stuck, proud of how hard she tried.

Later, we settled on the couch for our usual wind-down which was some cartoon she loved. She curled up against my side, head on my shoulder.

This was my life. Simple. Steady. Emily safe and happy.

But as the show played, my mind wandered again.

Bella’s face when I told her we couldn’t. The way she’d looked so small walking away.

I’d hurt her. Badly.

And the worst part? Some selfish corner of me had wanted to kiss her longer. Deeper. To see where it went.

I tightened my arm around Emily.

No.

I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. To Robert. To Bella.

I had to shut this down completely. Professional distance. Treat her like the smart young colleague she was. Nothing more.

Even if it meant ignoring every instinct that pulled me toward her.

Emily yawned. “Bedtime?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Brush your teeth. I’ll come tuck you in.”

She hugged me tight before heading upstairs. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you more.”

I cleaned up the kitchen alone, the house quiet around me.

Tomorrow I’d see Bella again. I’d apologize properly. Keep things light. Rebuild the wall I’d stupidly let crack.

But deep down, I already knew the truth.

That kiss had changed something.

And no amount of guilt or good intentions was going to make it easy to forget