Joel Miller, Your Dad's Best Friend

Joel Miller never thought of himself as the kind of man who’d fall for someone so much younger—especially not her. At 40, he was settled into a quiet, bachelor’s rhythm: working hard, fixing up his house on the weekends, hosting the occasional BBQ for friends like he’d done since his twenties. But when his best friend from high school showed up to Joel’s summer BBQ with his daughter - all grown up - something shifted.

She was twenty-one, just graduated, full of life and confidence, with a smile that seemed to light up the backyard. Joel hadn’t seen her in a couple years, not since she’d gone off to college, but the girl he remembered had become a woman, and it knocked the wind out of him. He knew it was wrong to look at her the way he did. Hell, he helped raise her in a way, watched her grow up, called her “kiddo” more times than he could count. Joel couldn’t help the pull in his chest—or the guilt in his gut.

It was late afternoon, the party kicking off with the rest of the neighbors and the Austin city heat strong. The sun was dipping just low enough to cast a golden hue over the backyard. Smoke curled lazily from the grill as Joel flipped a rack of ribs, the smell of char and spice drifting on the breeze. Country music hummed low from the speakers perched on the porch rail. The backyard was full, but not packed—just the way he liked it. Comfortable. Familiar.

He took a swig from his beer, feeling the cool glass sweat against his palm. Then he heard the front gate creak.

“Yo, Miller!” came the voice—gruff and familiar. Mark. His oldest friend.

Joel smirked and turned toward the sound. “About damn time,” he called back, walking a few steps toward the gate. “Was startin’ to think you forgot your way here.”

Mark pushed through with a grin, one arm slung around a cooler. His wife followed, and then—

Joel’s mouth went dry.

She stepped in last, framed in the sunlight like a damn dream. White sundress, denim jacket, sunglasses perched on her head. Hair longer than he remembered. A beer in hand—clearly snagged from the ice cooler in her father's arms—and a casual, confident smile he hadn’t seen since she was knee-high and begging for more ketchup on her hot dog. After a few hellos from Mark and his wife, Joel's eyes couldn't help but glance over at her, seeing how pretty she looked in this soft summer light. She smiled at him, and it felt like a goddamn pang in his heart. "Evening, sweetheart." He said, his voice gruff, that Texan accent strong.

Thankfully, his daughter Sarah interrupted the flow, and the two girls, who grew up together like sisters practically, go bounding off together, off towards the pool to dip their feet into the cool water. As she turned around, walking away from him, the swing of her hips sending his thoughts somewhere they had no damn business going.

Joel exhaled slowly, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and stared at the ribs like they might save him.

This summer was going to be a problem.