Chapter 4: Still Celebrating

John's POV

John found the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He leaned over the sink, clutching the edge of the counter. He stared at his reflection and fought his rising erection.

"Dead grandma, dead grandma, dead grandma," he growled to his reflection. It wasn't working. It looked like he had pitched a tent in his pants.

He ran some cold water and splashed it onto his face. Then, he looked at the wet mess that was left on the counter and rolled his eyes. He grabbed the hand towel and wiped it up. Yeah, that was it, distract himself. It was working. No, wait, no it wasn't. An image of her flashed back into his mind. He lost all progress.

This was unreasonable. He had never been affected like this before. Rhiannon had always been a lovely girl, but now, here she was, a grown woman. It was wrong, he had helped her learn to ride a bike, he had been a pallbearer at her mother's funeral, he had even helped egg the house of the first boy to break her heart. And yet, here she was, all done with college and a woman with an incredible body and an attitude like he'd never encountered before. If he was being honest with himself, he'd seen her turn that attitude on others, she had always been feisty, but the full force of it had never been turned on him before. It made him feel something strong, but he couldn't name the feeling.

Rhiannon's POV

Rhiannon felt like John had been in the bathroom forever. She started to think he'd left, but finally, she spied him reenter the backyard.

She was in her old bedroom upstairs, watching out the open window. Rhiannon was just simply doing a little reconnaissance on how well her plan worked, that was all, she assured herself. Now, she had to be aloof, ignore the man for the rest of the night. Easy.

She could admit to herself that he looked good tonight. The white dress shirt he wore had the top two buttons undone, letting enough of that muscled chest peek out that it was almost distracting. Almost.

His navy slacks did him a lot of favors, too, and he had paired a light brown belt with some light brown dress shoes. John dressed well; she would concede that compliment. Really, she'd offer him a lot of compliments, just never out loud.

Rhiannon was honestly a little offended he hadn't recognized her at the bar the other night. She had made a lot of changes after she and Tyler broke up. She guessed it made sense that he wouldn't recognize her anymore, but it didn't take the sting out.

It drug up all those old memories, the endless crushes she'd had in middle and high school who had never even known her name. That feeling of being passed over, unnoticed, forgettable. It stung.

It was unreasonable to take this so personally, the man was her father's age, of course, he hadn't invested any thought into her when she was seventeen. It would have been disgusting if he had.

It was kind of disgusting that no matter how the man aged, he steadily dated women in their twenties, but you know what, that was part of the problem too. He doesn't recognize her and suddenly he thinks he can just manipulate her into being a little arm candy. How dare he?

The man was a womanizer. He deserved for her to toy with him. The man got older, but the women never did; she wouldn't be the next girl to age out of John Hartley's heart.

Rhiannon realized she was clenching her jaw. She took a deep breath and laid down on her bed, legs dangling off the edge. Tyler was moving to Huntsville soon. Got a job at Boeing and everything. That's good money. Money that someone who's using their degree makes.

She turned her head to where her old journal sat still on the side table next to her bed. She grabbed it and flung it across the room. It slammed into the wall. She watched it drop to the floor and relaxed back into the mattress. He had been right the whole time. Tyler had told her it wouldn't go anywhere, to focus on something that would pay the bills. She could chase her dreams in her spare time.

Rhiannon was on her feet again. The room was covered in reminders of crushed dreams and her broken heart. She flipped a framed picture of her and Tyler to the floor. She pulled a handful of papers from her desk drawer and threw them in the trash. She picked up the discarded journal and threw it into the trash, too. Little trinkets Tyler had bought for her littered the room, on the windowsill, on her bookshelves, on the desk. She flung them across the room towards the trash can.

"Rhi?" a voice called down the hall.

Sh*t. She had lost control of her temper. There were people here. Martha had heard her little outburst. "Sorry, Martha, just doing some cleaning."

"Are you okay, honey?" her voice was closer now, she was coming to the room.

Rhiannon rushed to pick up some broken pieces from a little plastic frog Tyler had won for her at a fair and tossed them into the trash can.

"I'm fine. Thank you. Sorry for the noise."

Footsteps retreated down the hallway. Rhiannon took a deep breath and steadied herself. Now was not the time.

John's POV

David reached into the box of cigars. "This was really thoughtful, guys, thank you."

Rich pulled one out for himself and handed another to John. "Anytime. Happy birthday, Dave."

John nodded to him and reached into his pocket for a lighter. Patting all his pockets, he realized he hadn't remembered to bring one. "Ah, man, I forgot a lighter."

"That's alright, I've got one." David leaned so he could see in the back door. "Rhiannon, are you down here?" he called.

Rhiannon stuck her head out the doorway. "Yes sir!"

David smiled. "Could you bring me a cigar lighter, sweetheart?"

She nodded and turned back into the house.

"John, you never answered me earlier. You got anybody on the radar now? It's rare to see you without a date." David passed his cigar cutter to John.

John took it and struggled to find words fast enough. "Uh, yeah, I think."

Rich had been mid sip of his bourbon. He nearly choked.

"Oh, man, what is it this time? Actress? Background dancer? That photographer you dated was really sweet," David quipped.

John ran a hand across his carefully manicured five o'clock shadow. "You know, we haven't really talked about that stuff yet."

"Have you done much talking at all, you dirty dog?" David cocked his head.

John knew what David was implying by the way he waggled his eyebrows, but he chose to ignore it. "You know, to be honest, we haven't."

Rich and David laughed, but for different reasons.

Rhiannon returned with the lighter, and Rich sobered. She handed it to her father. John couldn't help but let his eyes slide down her. With that shirt, you could really see how toned her midriff was. F*ck.

"You know, I don't know how you've survived this long, John. If I found out some man our age was trying to spend time with my daughter in that way, I'd shoot him. Shoot him dead on his feet."

Rhiannon covered her mouth, but John could tell by the way her eyes lit and shoulders shook slightly that she was laughing. His stomach was doing flips.

"Yeah, me too," Rich laughed. He was enjoying this too much.

"Daddy, I'm gonna have to hit the road, I've got plans tomorrow." Rhiannon leaned down to give her father a hug.

"Aw, drive safe, sweetheart. It was good to see you. Now that you're home, I expect to see you more often."

"Yes sir," she answered. "Good night, y'all," she addressed the three men. She turned to leave, but called over her shoulder, "See you at the bar, Rich."

Nothing for John. She wouldn't even look at him. He didn't like the jealous heat that started to warm him. He pushed up his sleeves. From this angle, he at least had the perfect view to watch those hips swing as she left.