Riding my BF's Dad Lollipop.

The drive up to the lake house felt longer than usual, even though Danny kept the music loud and his hand resting high on my thigh the whole way. He sang off-key to old rock songs, grinning like the weekend was already perfect. I laughed along, squeezing his fingers, but my mind kept drifting ahead to the cabin and to the man who owned it.

Andy Scott had always been polite to me. Warm in that effortless way older men can be when they know they’re attractive and don’t need to prove it.

He’s tall and solid, with silver threading through his dark hair and laugh lines that make him look experienced rather than old. Every time we’d visited his place in the city, I’d caught myself watching how his shoulders filled out a shirt and how his voice dropped lower when he spoke directly to me.

At first, they were just harmless thoughts, but not until they weren’t.

We pulled up the gravel drive just as the sun hit that golden late-afternoon angle.

Pine trees framed the cabin like sentinels and the lake beyond shimmered flat and inviting. Danny hopped out first, stretching his arms wide. “Finally! Dad said he’d have the grill going already.”

I stepped onto the stones in my sandals, smoothing my sundress against the breeze. The air smelled of water and wood smoke. Then the screen door banged open, and there he was.

Andy walked down the porch steps, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He wore faded jeans and a navy T-shirt that clung just enough to show the shape of his chest. His smile started slowly, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Danny. Jodie. You two made good time.”

Danny jogged over for a quick back-slap hug. “Smells like you’re already winning at this dad thing.”

Andy chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Figured I’d feed you before you start complaining about my fishing skills.” Then his gaze shifted to me. “Hey, sweetheart. Good to see you.”

The word “sweetheart” landed soft and casual, the way he always said it. But today it felt different and warmer.

His eyes held mine a second longer than necessary, blue-gray and steady, before he turned back to Danny. “Grab the cooler from the trunk. I’ll show Jodie where to put her stuff.”

I followed him inside, tote bag bumping against my leg. The cabin was all warm wood and open space: a big stone fireplace, wide windows facing the water and a kitchen island that looked like it had hosted a thousand summer meals.

He led me down the short hallway to the guest room.

“Here you go,” he said, pushing the door wider. “Same room as last time. Fresh sheets and extra blankets are in the closet if it gets cool tonight.”

“Thanks.” I set my bag on the quilted bed. The window overlooked the dock and a stretch of empty shoreline. Perfect view.

He lingered in the doorway, arms crossed loosely. “Danny says you’ve been working long hours lately.”

I nodded, turning to face him. “Yeah. Deadline after deadline. This weekend feels like a lifeline.”

“Glad to hear it.” He pushed off the frame, stepping just inside the room. Close enough that I caught the faint scent of cedar and smoke on his skin. “You deserve the break. Both of you.”

Something in his tone made my stomach flutter. Not nerves, but anticipation. I smiled to cover it. “I brought that bottle of red you liked last time. Figured we’d crack it open tonight.”

His mouth curved. “Thoughtful. I like that.” He glanced toward the hallway, then back at me. “You look good, Jodie. Really good.”

Heat climbed my cheeks. “Thanks. You too.”

He held my gaze again, longer this time. Then he gave a small nod, like he’d decided something and stepped back. “Come out when you’re ready. The grill’s almost hot.”

I watched him walk away, broad back filling the hallway and exhaled slowly. My pulse tapped too fast under my skin.

Dinner happened on the back deck. Andy had grilled steaks and vegetables; everything was perfectly charred and fragrant. Danny dominated the conversation, recounting a ridiculous story from work that had us all laughing.

I sipped wine and stole glances at Andy across the table. He listened to his son with real affection, nodding and adding quiet comments that made Danny beam. But every so often, his eyes flicked to me. Quick and intentional.

After the plates were cleared, Danny suggested a swim. “Water’s still warm. Come on, babe.”

I changed in the bedroom, slipping into the emerald bikini I’d packed on a whim. The fabric hugged my curves, the color vivid against my skin. When I stepped onto the deck, both men were already shirtless by the dock.

Danny whooped and ran, cannonballing into the lake with a massive splash.

Andy stood at the edge, with arms loose at his sides, while watching the ripples spread. Then he looked over his shoulder at me.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. His gaze traveled down my body slowly and appreciatively before returning to my face. No smirk, but just heat.

“You coming in?” he asked, his voice carrying over the water.

I walked to the edge, toes curling over the warm wood. “After you.”

He dove, clean and powerful, surfacing a few yards out with water streaming down his shoulders. I followed, the lake swallowing me in cool silk. When I broke the surface, Danny was already swimming toward the floating dock farther out, calling for us to race him.

We swam, laughed and splashed water on ourselves, but Andy stayed closer to me than necessary.

Our legs brushed once under the water. Then again and again. Each touch felt electric and deliberate. When Danny dove under to grab my ankle in a playful tug, Andy used the moment to move behind me. His chest grazed my back for half a second, solid and warm. Gone before I could react.

Danny surfaced, shaking water from his hair. “I’m heading in to grab beers. You two good?”

“Yeah,” Andy answered for both of us. “We’ll catch up.” Danny swam off, leaving silence and the gentle lap of waves.

I turned in the water. Andy floated a few feet away, with his eyes locked on mine. Moonlight painted silver streaks across his collarbone.

“Beautiful out here,” he said quietly.

“The lake?” I asked, even though I knew he didn’t mean the water.

He drifted closer. “Everything.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I could feel the pull between us, heavy and undeniable. His hand found my waist beneath the surface. His palm was flat, fingers splayed, not grabbing, but just holding.

Heat bloomed where he touched me. I didn’t pull away.

“Jodie,” he murmured. His thumb traced a slow arc over my hip. “You feel that?”

I nodded, barely breathing. His voice dropped lower. “I’ve been trying not to notice how you look at me. How you move. But tonight...” He exhaled through his nose. “Tonight it’s hard to pretend.”

My lips parted. “Andy...”

He leaned in until our foreheads almost touched. Water dripped from his hair onto my cheek. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t.

His other hand rose, fingertips brushing my jaw, tilting my face up. Our mouths hovered close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath. My body hummed, alive in a way it hadn’t been in months.

Then Danny’s voice echoed from the shore. “Beers are cold! You guys coming or what?”

Andy froze. His hands slid away, slow and reluctant. He backed up a stroke, putting distance between us. The water felt colder without him.

“Coming,” he called back, calm and normal.

But when he looked at me again, his eyes burned.

We swam to the dock in silence. Danny tossed us towels, chattering about how cold the night air felt. I wrapped mine around my shoulders, pulse still racing.

Later, by the fire pit, Danny sat close, his arm slung around me, oblivious, while Andy sat across the flames, staring into them like they held answers.

Every so often, his gaze lifted to mine, held and promised. When Danny yawned and said he was heading to bed, Andy stood too. “I’ll lock up in a bit.”

Danny kissed my temple. “Night, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I said automatically.

He disappeared inside.

Andy waited until the door clicked shut. Then he walked around the fire to stand beside my chair. He leaned down, close enough that his words brushed my ear.

“You didn’t tell me to stop,” he whispered. “So tell me now, Jodie. Tell me you don’t want my hands on you again.”

My breath hitched. I turned my face toward his. Our lips were inches apart.

He waited, then I opened my mouth. But the only sound that came out was the crackle of the fire.

His eyes darkened. “That’s what I thought.”

He straightened, walked to the cabin door and paused with his hand on the frame.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Because tomorrow... I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my distance.”

The door closed behind him.

I sat alone by the dying flames, skin still tingling where he’d touched me and my heart pounding with a question I couldn’t shake.

How was I supposed to spend the rest of the weekend pretending I didn’t want him to break that promise?