Hired by the Single Dad (Single Dads of Seattle #1)

by Whitley Cox

  Her top tooth snagged her bottom lip. He wanted to bite that lip.

  “Unless of course you have plans?”

  Her gold-chain necklace was askew, and the small heart pendant sat in the hollow of her long, sexy neck. Her throat bobbed on a swallow, and she licked her lips.

  Fuck, he still hadn’t removed his hand from her shoulder. And it was the bare shoulder too. So his hand was actually on her silky, soft skin. On her bra strap.

  “N-no plans,” she stammered, licking her lips again. “I just don’t want to intrude.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away. “No intrusion at all. We’d love to have you stay.” He turned to Gabe. “Right, buddy?”

  Gabe’s smile was huge.

  Tori wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back in her chair, admiring the unruly way Mark’s dark hair twirled down just over his ears and stuck up slightly near his forehead. It was roguish and wild, but it suited him. As did the close-trimmed beard that clung to his jaw.

  He cracked an unexpected smile that emphasized his dark good looks. “Well, Miss Jones, I think you’re a miracle worker. Look at that kid’s plate.”

  Gabe was using his finger to mop up the last of the spaghetti sauce, having already devoured the pasta and garlic bread.

  “I will admit I put a secret ingredient in there when he wasn’t looking. Makes it irresistible to children.”

  Mark lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

  “Crack.”

  His smile grew wider and sexier—if that was possible.

  “Know a guy who sells it for cheap. Goes by the name of Slime, but his stuff is legit. He mainly peddles it out near Rosemont Elementary, hits up those parents. Makes a killing.”

  His warm chuckle, along with an appraising gaze rolled over her, made her want to wrap it around herself like a cashmere throw. “Well, give Slime my regards, because whatever can get my kid to eat his veggies, I am one hundred percent on board with. I’ll write Gabe a script for methadone if it becomes a serious problem.”

  Tori tilted her head back and whooped out a laugh. She was glad he had such a great sense of humor. Ken would have looked at her like she was nuts. He never thought her dry and slightly dark sense of humor was funny.

  “Do you have other recipes and tricks up your sleeve?” he asked, standing up and taking his plate, and then hers, to the dishwasher.

  She thanked him and followed with the marinara bowl and garlic bread basket. “I have a few, yeah. Bought a cookbook on how to sneak veggies into meals for kids.”

  Mark stopped loading the dishwasher and instead opened up the cupboard above it, pulling a book down from a row full of cookbooks. “You mean this one?”

  Tori chuckled. “That’s the one. Though she typically just adds one or two veggies to each recipe. I say go big or go home and I add a bunch. Plus, I’ve modified some of her recipes and come up with a few of my own.”

  Mark shook his head and put the cookbook back. “I’ve made a few recipes from her book as well, but either I’m not making the recipe right, or Gabe is a super taster, because he still turns his nose up at the majority of them. He’s gotten wise to my ploys.”

  She placed the leftover marinara sauce in a glass storage container, then put it in the fridge. “Well, I’d be happy to make a few more meals for him”—she turned to face him—“and you, if you’d like. I don’t mind. It gives us something to do once I know he’s too tired for programs.”

  “I can’t ask you to make us dinner.” She could tell by the tone of his deep voice that he really wanted her to cook for them, but he felt that it was asking too much.

  She knew what it was like to come home after a long day of work, only to have to then whip up dinner. She’d work a ten- or twelve-hour day between her jobs, hoping and praying that Ken would have at least thought to pull something out of the freezer for dinner, only to come home and find him vegged out on the couch, “studied out” and waiting for her to make dinner. She understood that he was studying his butt off, but she was working her butt off and then was still expected to do all the cooking and cleaning.

  Their marriage had never been equal, had never been fair.

  “I know what it’s like to be too tired to cook,” she finally said. “I don’t mind. If that’s what you’d like. I mean, I am making Gabe dinner, and preparing his meals is part of my job description, no?”

  “It is … ” he said hesitantly. His eyes fell on Gabe, who was sitting droopy-eyed at the table. The poor kid was nearly falling asleep on his plate. He’d been such a trooper all day, he had to be exhausted.

  “I should get going,” she said, sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere of the room. “Let you guys get back to your routine. I’ve interfered enough.”

  Mark’s green eyes shot back up to her. “No. Just … ” He ran his hand through his hair, appearing almost flustered. “Just stay here for a moment. Let me run Gabe his bath and get him all set up. Then I’ll come out and talk to you.” His gaze intensified until it seemed he was pleading with her. “Please?”

  She nodded, taking Gabe’s plate away from him. It was so clean, she could almost put it back in the cabinet.

  Mark grabbed a sleepy-eyed Gabe and hoisted him up onto his hip. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you in the bath so you can hit the hay. You’ve had such a big day, no wonder you’re tired.”

  Gabe’s eyes popped open wide, and he glanced back at Tori with trepidation, his bottom lip wobbling just a touch.

  “It’s okay,” she said, giving him a big reassuring smile as she dried her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll do it all again. You go with your dad and have a nice warm bath.”

  His eyes settled back into sleep mode, and he let his cheek rest on Mark’s shoulder. But his hand flew out, and he signed a butchered one-handed version of “good night” to her just before they rounded the corner to the bathroom.

  “’Night, buddy. Sweet dreams.”

  Unease swam through her as she sat at the kitchen table and thumbed through her phone, waiting for Mark to return. He seemed to be appreciative of everything she’d done so far. Their dinner banter and his laughter at her jokes seemed like a good sign. He’d invited her to stay and eat with them. Had something happened she wasn’t aware of? Had she overstepped in some way? Was he displeased? Was he dismissing her? Why had he asked her to stay?

  Stop overthinking things!

  She’d already fallen head over heels for Gabe, so she couldn’t imagine leaving him, and she also really needed this job. She needed to save up for the next few months so she could get her own place when her parents’ friends returned from Arizona in the spring. A nice little nest egg would be very helpful for starting back out on her own. Plus, she’d been emailing back and forth with Janice Sparks all weekend, and the practicum position sounded amazing. She could work right alongside Janice, getting her practicum hours at the same time she was doing her schooling. She’d be a certified behavioral consultant in no time.

  It was closing in on seven o’clock. Was she still on the clock?

  She still had laundry to do and was going to start reading some of the online modules Janice had mentioned.

  A text message from Ken popped up. She deleted it without reading it. That was the third one this week. He’d also sent two emails. She’d deleted those too. She had nothing to say to him. If he wanted to speak to her, he could hire a lawyer and do it that way. She needed to save some money first so she could do the same.

  Tori blew out a long, slow exhale. Fucking Ken, even when they were over, he was still causing her grief.

  She heard Mark’s footsteps coming down the hall and hastily switched off the screen of her phone, setting it down next to her arm.

  He approached with the loose-limbed gait of a man in total control. A man who knew his worth and rarely ever heard the word no. “Little guy is out. He could hardly keep his eyes open during his bath and didn’t last two pages of his favorite Harvey the Happy Puppy book. Whate
ver you did knocked him right out.”

  “It’s the crack, I’m telling you.”

  The man could be a model for Crest, his smile was so perfect. “Must be. Maybe it’s laced with tryptophan?”

  “Wouldn’t that be something? An upper and a downer all in one.”

  He sat down across from her at the table, stretching his corded neck side to side until it popped. Thickly muscled arms and shoulders strained the seams of a black T-shirt he must have changed into after putting Gabe down.

  She simply waited. Waited and ogled. It was hard not to. The man was gorgeous.

  Green eyes as vibrant as cut emeralds stared back at her. In all her life, she’d never met a man who was so inherently alpha male as Mark Herron. He was commanding, confident, intimidating and yet completely drool-worthy. He stirred something inside Tori she hadn’t felt in ages. Had she ever felt it? She couldn’t remember being this attracted, this primitively drawn to Ken.

  Letting out an exhale that could only be from a long, hard day spent saving lives, he folded his big, capable hands in front of him on the table. She stared down at his hands, envisioning them wrapped around her waist, caressing her breasts, playing with her hair …

  “I want to thank you again,” he started, snapping her out of her fantasy. “I know I went about hiring you in a rather unorthodox way, and I appreciate you giving us—me and Gabe—the chance. He seems positively smitten with you, so whatever you’re doing, keep it up. His teacher was thoroughly impressed with you too.”

  Had he called and spoken with Mrs. Samuelson? The glint in his eyes said he had. It also said he would always keep tabs on his child and that everything with Gabe, and with her career inside and outside the home, was transparent. And would remain as such.

  He didn’t bother to expand on that and simply continued. “I do want to offer to pay you more to cook dinner for us. There are no adequate words to express my gratitude for coming home to dinner already cooked. And the fact that Gabe ate it all … ” He blew out a breath. “I can’t remember the last time he licked his plate clean.”

  “He’s a great kid.” It’s all she could think of to say. His intense stare was flustering her.

  “I’d also like you to stay and eat with us when you can. Give us a chance to get to know each other, and that way you’re not forced to go home and delay your own meal. You’re feeding us. The least we can do is feed you.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  He cut her off. “I insist. When you can. If you have plans”—he paused—“or a date, you’re more than welcome to leave when I get home. But don’t feel like you have to leave if you don’t have anything to get home to. It will give us a chance to discuss Gabe’s day, his progress, his challenges and anything else.”

  Anything else …

  She couldn’t keep eye contact with him any longer and let her gaze drop to the table. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

  The man had the ability to turn her to mush. One minute she was all confident and carefree, cracking jokes about crack, and then the next she could hardly sit still for the frenzy of horny butterflies going berserk in her belly.

  The air in the room suddenly changed. It was thick and heady. Pheromones pinged and bounced off the ecru-colored walls.

  “You’re an excellent cook.”

  She glanced up at him beneath her lashes. “Thank you.”

  Why was she so nervous around him?

  Maybe because he’s a thirty-eight-year old doctor who you’d love to play doctor with. Only he’s also your boss, and you really need this job.

  She blew her bangs off her forehead, her eyes flicking to the clock on the stove.

  Mark followed where she was looking. “I guess it’s getting late. I won’t keep you any longer.” He stood up, and she followed suit, walking over to the small bench along the wall to retrieve her purse and bag.

  In silence, they wandered to the foyer. He grabbed her coat off the coatrack, and she thought he was just going to hand it to her, but like a gentleman, he held it out, waiting for her to slip into it.

  His knuckles grazed the side of her neck as she slid her arms into the jacket. A spark from his touch raced through her, causing her nipples to harden to tight points. She took a step forward, away from the heat of his body, the manly smell of him. Slowly, she spun around to face him, doing up the buttons on her pea coat, then freeing her hair at the nape of her neck.

  All the while he simply watched her, not saying a word.

  Was there tension? Was there something going on between them? Or was it all in her head? She couldn’t tell. Was he always this intense? It was overwhelming.

  She was stone-cold sober, and yet being around Mark made cotton cloud her brain and rattled her thoughts, as if she’d just put her head in a paint mixer.

  He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his light, well-worn, sexy-as-fuck jeans and rocked back on his bare feet. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  She secured her purse over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes, tomorrow.”

  He opened the door for her. Like a gentleman. “Have a good night.”

  She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and took a step forward, her body not wanting to leave the warmth of Mark’s home. Not wanting to leave Mark. She stopped on the welcome mat outside. The eaves dripped from the light rain. It was dark outside, but the porch light made the yard glow, illuminating the fog. He leaned against the doorjamb, hands back in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankle.

  Had she ever seen anything hotter in her life?

  No.

  “Good night, Tori. Sweet dreams.”

  Her chest rose and fell quicker than on any run she’d ever taken. “Yeah … you too.”

  Then she headed to her car, drove to the drugstore and bought a twenty-four pack of double-A batteries. Her vibrator had no idea what was in store for it tonight.

  5

  He could hear the screaming from inside the house the moment he turned off the ignition in his car. He knew that sound well.

  Poor Gabe.

  Poor Tori.

  She had been with Gabe for almost a month now, and things were going fantastically. His kid had shown more progress in these past four weeks than he had in years. But today Tori texted him to let him know that Gabe was having a rougher day than usual. There was a substitute teacher at school, as Mrs. Samuelson was sick, and Gabe did not like the change. He’d refused to eat his snack or lunch, took a swing at one of his classmates and was, according to Tori, “struggling” all day. Mark knew she was sugarcoating it, though. He’d called the principal a few hours ago and had a good chat with her. The substitute teacher—poor thing—had been traumatized by Gabe’s outbursts, tantrums and behaviors and refused to return the next day. Mark told the principal he’d instead keep Gabe home.

  He checked in an hour or so ago, and Tori said Gabe was still “struggling.” He refused to do any of his programs, and not even the park, iPad or helping her make dinner would calm him down.

  Gabe had a lot more of these “episodes” right after Cheyenne left. The change in routine and missing person from his life had sent the kid into a tailspin. And Gabe really liked Mrs. Samuelson, so for her to suddenly be missing one day without any warning, well, it was understandable why Gabe had reacted the way he did. He probably thought she was never coming back, just like his mom.

  Mark figured Tori hadn’t had time to make dinner, so he swung into the grocery store on his way home and picked up a rotisserie chicken and some deli salads.

  He wasn’t sure what kind of a situation he was walking into, so he wanted to come armed with at least food. Feed the poor woman who’d been stuck with his upset son all day.

  Mark opened the door from the garage into the house. The screaming only grew louder. It was coming from the direction of the kitchen. He hung up his coat and put his briefcase on the table just inside the kitchen before making his way around the corner.

  Gabe was lying on the floor, spinni
ng around on his back, using his feet to propel him. His hands were on his head, and he was pulling violently at his hair. Tears teemed down his cheeks in big thick rivulets, and snot poured from his nose.

  Where the hell was Tori?

  “I’m here for a hug when you’re ready, Gabe. But if you try to hit me again, I’m going to let you go. We don’t hit.”

  Mark walked around the island at the sound of her voice to find her sitting on the floor, tears in her own eyes and what looked to be a big scratch on the side of her face.

  Fuck!

  She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes filling with more tears. “I’m sorry,” she said, having to practically shout over the screaming. “I hate that I can’t help him. He won’t let me.” She hung her head, wiping her tears with her knuckles. “I’ve done everything I can think of.”

  Mark crouched down and lifted her chin with his index finger. Her sky-blue eyes were so sad. Did she think she’d failed him? Failed Gabe? Her bottom lip wobbled. She sniffed. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was all okay. That Gabe did this from time to time, and nobody was a failure when they couldn’t comfort him. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her like he wanted to. Couldn’t run his hands down her shiny, chestnut hair and murmur the things he felt into her ear.

  Instead he reached out with his other hand and gently ran his thumb over the scratch. “Is that from Gabe?” It was deep red and at the top was beginning to bleed.

  She winced when he touched it, her eyes shutting. She also leaned slightly into his palm.

  Uh-oh.

  He pulled his hand away, and her eyes flew open. Her cheeks and neck grew a beautiful pink. She knew what she’d done.

  Gabe’s scream turned into a shrill screech, and they both grimaced, the moment between them shattered.

  Her hand came up to where his thumb had just been, wiping away the blood. “He didn’t mean it. I don’t hold it against him. If anything, that’s what made him more upset—the fact that he knew he hurt me.”