Rebel Desire: A (Surprise) Single Dad Romantic Comedy (Rebel Love Book 3)

by LK Farlow

  “Ashley,” I start, my voice firm but gentle, ready to let her down easy, but she cuts me off.

  “No!” She stands as well, righting her shorts. “Nope. I’m gonna stop you right there. You are not about to tell me this was a mistake and that it can’t happen again. You are not about to tell me how I’m not your type—you’re about an orgasm too late for me to believe it. You are not about to tell me we can’t be together, blah-blah-blah.”

  She’s pacing now. No doubt, if this was a cartoon, her hair would be alive, swirling in the air with her anger.

  “You don’t get to dismiss me again. You don’t get to take what happened here and sully it, because guess what, asshole?” She throws her arms wide to either side. “I’m not asking you for a commitment. I’m not begging you for a relationship. What we did was hot and raw and so-fucking-mutual. You don’t want it to happen again? Fine, that is your prerogative. But you don’t get to keep jerking me around simply because you can’t make up your mind. Got it?”

  I suck in a deep breath. “Got it.”

  “Great. Why don’t you go clean up a little more and grab Cruz? I’ll gather his stuff while you do.”

  Somehow, she’s managed to flip the script. Now, I’m the one being dismissed, and honestly, I don’t fucking like it—not one bit.

  “Can do.”

  “Great,” she says again. “I’ll leave his bag by the door, please turn the bottom lock on your way out.”

  Guilt keeps me rooted in place. I want to apologize. To wax poetic over all the ways I do, in fact, want her. Instead, I say, “Am I still okay to drop Cruz off tomorrow morning?”

  She laughs a hollow, dry laugh that sends chills down my spine. “Yup. You shouldn’t punish a son for his father’s transgressions.” She turns and pads into the kitchen, giving me her back. “Bye, Colton.”

  With nothing else to do, I head down the hall to get Cruz, making a pitstop in the bathroom to wash my hands. He’s still sleeping soundly—thank God—and doesn’t even stir when I gather up his small body against my chest.

  As promised, his bag is by the door and Ashley—she’s nowhere in sight.

  24

  Ashley

  “Ugh,” I groan into my hands before looking back up at my best friend’s face filling my laptop screen. “Even Cruz can sense the tension between us.”

  Colton and I have spent the week tiptoeing around one another. Each morning, he’s dropped off Cruz without a word to me, and each night, he’s picked him with a simple “thank you” and a tip of his chin.

  I haven’t exactly made an effort to break the ice, but I also don’t think I should have to. When it comes to him, it feels like I’m always the one bending and breaking.

  I’m fed up with his hot and cold behavior. It’s like the old saying, one step forward, two back, except we take about ten back. I’d think fate mismatched us, chalk it up to a little carnal lust, except for the way my heart goes haywire every time he comes around—every time I think of him, really.

  “Kids are really perceptive,” Mallory says. “Especially ones who are more used to observing. From what you’ve told me, Cruz is the kind of kid who drinks in his surroundings.”

  “I feel awful. He actually asked me yesterday if I wanted him to stop talking to me like his daddy did. Talk about having your heart stomped on.”

  “Oh, Ash.” Mallory tears up. “Stupid pregnancy hormones, sorry! Give me a minute.”

  I wait while she wrangles her emotions.

  “You two need to find a way to patch things up.”

  “I know. We do. I just feel like—”

  “He needs to come to you, I get it.”

  “Yeah, but the man has more pride than sense, so, I’m not exactly holding out hope.”

  “Upside, it’s Saturday, which means you get two days brooding lawyer free!”

  “Woo-hoo.” I spin my index finger through the air. “Enough about my stupid problems. Let’s talk about those babies.”

  “Girl! I’m only sixteen weeks, and I feel like I’m stuffed full.”

  “I hear twins will do that to you.”

  “Ha-ha, funny girl.”

  “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.”

  “You’re such a delightful little weirdo.”

  I grin at my best friend right as my phone rings on the desk. I pick it up and glance down at the screen, my face screwing up in a frown when I see who’s calling.

  “Who is it?” Mally asks.

  “Colton.”

  “Are you gonna answer?”

  I sigh, because we both know I am.

  “Hello, Colton.”

  He clears his throat. “Ash—ley. Hey. How are you?”

  “I was enjoying my day off. I’m wedding free and just chilling.”

  Silence fills the line.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but is there a reason you called?”

  Mallory slaps a hand over her mouth as I rush to mute our video call.

  “Yeah, sorry. I…I had something come up tonight, and I really need you to watch Cruz.”

  Now I’m the silent one.

  “Can you be here around seven?”

  “Are you for real right now? You spend the entire week ignoring me and now you want me to come watch your son so you can—what? Go out with West? Go on a”—I gulp— “a date?”

  “Ashley.” Somehow, he makes those two syllables drip with exasperation. Well, right back atcha, Col-ton. “Please? I…an opportunity of sorts fell into my lap, and I’d be a fool not to pursue it. However, without your cooperation, my hands are tied.”

  On my computer screen, Mallory is shaking her head. I’m not sure if she’s trying to tell me no or is resigned to the fact that I’m about to say yes.

  “Sure, Colton.”

  “You’re the best!”

  “For double our agreed-upon daily rate. Plus, money to order a pizza.”

  Colton laughs under his breath. “Sure thing. See you at—”

  I cut him off. “I’m doing this for Cruz. Not for you. Just so you know.”

  His muffled laugh becomes a chuckle. “Loud and clear. See you at seven.”

  He ends the call and I toss my phone down to my desk. Mallory’s lips are moving a mile a minute, but I can’t hear a thing since she is still muted.

  I wait for a lull in her tirade before turning her volume back on. “Are you even listening?”

  “Nope. You were muted.”

  “Dammit, Ashley!”

  “Listen, same song and dance—you were telling me I’m being dumb and to be careful. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  We chat a few more minutes before she has to go. I still have a few hours before I have to head to Colton’s, and a nap sounds like the perfect way to pass the time.

  I wake from my nap as refreshed as I am full of dread. In other words, I’m still exhausted. After a yawn and a stretch, I drag my feet to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before hopping in the shower.

  Thankfully, the combination of the steaming water and the piping coffee do the trick—I’m wide awake, if not a little grumpy.

  I dress for comfort, knowing Cruz will want me to get down on the floor and play with him. Plus, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone.

  Not yet, anyway.

  At seven on the dot, I knock on Colton’s door. He swings it open with a smile on his stupid, handsome face. “Ashley, come in.”

  I flash him a contemptuous smile as I move past him and into the condo.

  “Agent Purple!” A little blond ball rushes me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I missed you!”

  A genuine smile breaks forth. “You saw me yesterday, goofball.”

  He huffs. “That was forever ago. I wanna see you always. I don’t like when you’re not with us. On TV, families are always together.”

  Oh, boy. While I’m over the moon he’s feeling so chatty, I’m ill-prepared for the topic.

  I look to Colton for help, but he’s busy on hi
s phone. Probably texting his date. Jackass. I guess I’m on my own here. “There’s all different kinds of families, bud. Sometimes you have a dad and a mom. Or sometimes, like your daddy, you get two moms or two dads. Some kids only have one parent. And others have step-parents.”

  “What’s a step-parent?”

  “It’s when parents who aren’t married to each other marry someone else.”

  His blue eyes twinkle. “That means…if you married my daddy…you’d be…my stepmom?” He bounces on his toes in excitement. I curl my toes in my shoes and clench my fists to keep from banging my head into the wall. This is going horribly wrong.

  “Um, well.” I cough a few times trying to get the big, blond jackass off of his phone. “Um, yes? Technically, whoever your daddy marries one day will, in fact, be your stepmom.”

  There. I pat myself on the back. That was good.

  “Good. Then y’all can get mar—”

  Nope. Not today, Satan. “Why don’t we play a game?” I say, redirecting him.

  “Can we play Chickapiglets?”

  “Absolutely. Go run and grab it.”

  In his absence, I turn on Colton. “Are you kidding me? You just left me hanging there? I’m glad your phone is more important than your son.”

  I regret the words as soon as I say them. I’m being snotty, and while he deserves a bit of my anger, he doesn’t deserve cruelty.

  He glares at me but says nothing.

  “Sorry,” I mutter as Cruz bounds back into the foyer.

  “Let’s play!”

  I shoot Colton one last apologetic look before giving Cruz all of my attention. “You got it, bud; let’s play.”

  Fifteen minutes later, my little friend and I are deep into our game, working together to make matches, building our hybrids, and avoiding the poo. It’s a weird little matching game, but I love the way it makes Cruz smile and that it encourages teamwork, which is perfect for him and Colton.

  “I was thinking we’d get pizza?” I ask Cruz as our game comes to an end.

  “Pizza sounds perfect,” Colton says, making me jump.

  “Why are you still here?” I ask. “Thought you had some mind-blowing, not to be missed opportunity tonight?”

  His lips tip up. “I do.”

  “Okaaaay,” I stretch the word. “Vague much?”

  Instead of answering me, he turns to his son. “You ready?”

  “Super ready!” he says, jumping to his feet.

  “Ready for what?” I ask, getting to my feet as well.

  “You’ll see. Take a seat, we’ll be back.”

  “Sure thing.” I bite out the words, wondering why in the hell Colton asked me to babysit if he’s going to be—oh, I swear on I hold dear, if he brings his date here, I might actually murder him.

  I play on my phone while I wait, scrolling through social media, checking for signs of life from Megan Grace. She’s still strangely absent. Mallory and her girls, along with Stacia, all say it’s a good thing. I think it’s freaking suspicious. I know if I had some psycho personal vendetta to ruin someone, it’d take more than a strongly worded letter to get me to back down.

  About twenty minutes pass before Cruz reappears. In the time he was gone, he’s changed into a little suit, bowtie and all. He has his hair combed back away from his face, looking dapper and more like his father than ever.

  “We’re ready for you,” he says.

  “Ready for what?” I’m skeptical but I take his hand anyway.

  He walks us back to the kitchen, where the picture I’m met with short circuits my brain.

  Does not compute, is the only thing I can think. Because standing before me—also rocking a bowtie—is Colton. He’s poised behind the island, which boasts a hefty floral arrangement comprised of stunning ivory roses intermingled with dahlias, irises, peonies, and delicately gorgeous anemones with lavender sprinkled throughout.

  “That’s gorgeous. Who’s the lucky recipient?”

  “I don’t know what that word means, but they’re for you,” Cruz says proudly. “I helped Daddy pick it.”

  Like I’m the Grinch, my heart swells thrice its size in my chest—until weariness flies in and pops my happiness like a dart to a balloon. Why did they get me flowers?

  “Consider them Act One of my apology.”

  “Act One?”

  Colton nods. “Yes. It has three parts in total, with a brief intermission between the second and third.”

  “Oh, sure, okay.” Because that makes sense.

  “I hope you brought your appetite. I made Mama K’s Shepherd’s pie.”

  I’m on the verge of calling Colton on his shit, but Cruz’s hope-filled smile has me biting my tongue. So, instead of demanding he tell me his motive, I say, “Food sounds great.”

  “005, will you seat our guest?”

  “I will, Daddy.”

  Cruz offers me his arm again and walks me to the dining room. On the table is a miniature version of the bouquet in the kitchen. Cruz pulls my chair out for me and waits as I scoot myself in.

  “What’s going on, bud?” I ask, trying to get him to spill the beans.

  “It’s a surprise.” The kid’s lips are zipped; I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

  Moments later, my boys—no!—Colton and Cruz return. Cruz is carrying a salad bowl while his dad handles the baking dish. They place them onto the table with flourish, and then Colton dishes out plates for each of us.

  Colton gives me an inpatient frown when I don’t immediately start eating. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, waving his fork around. “Dig in.”

  I place my napkin in my lap, and Cruz rushes to copy me. “What I’m waiting for is the other shoe to drop.”

  “Meaning…”

  “Meaning what is this? You asked me to watch Cruz so you could go out, so explain to me why we’re all eating together?”

  “Ash.” He shakes his head. “For someone so incredibly smart, you’re slow on the uptake, huh?”

  “Oh, how nice. I have always enjoyed being insulted over dinner.”

  Colton rolls his striking blue eyes. “I’m just saying, it’s fairly obvi—ouch!”

  I don’t bother hiding my smile as Cruz kicks his dad under the table.

  “You’re messing it all up, Daddy. Be nice!” He gives his father a meaningful look, one that borders on a glare and promises mutiny if he continues misbehaving.

  “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” I raise my brows.

  “Am I what?”

  “Sorry. Are you sorry?”

  Colton nods. “I am.”

  “Interesting.” I bite into the Shepherd’s pie. A symphony of flavors plays in harmony, serenading my taste buds. Creamy potatoes, kernels of corn, and tender, smoky barbecued pork come together to create a Shepherd’s pie unlike any other I’ve had. “This is delicious.”

  “Interesting, how so? And thank you, Mama K taught me to make it; it was one of her favorites to cook when I was growing up. One of her jobs was at the pork plant over in Holly Bluff, and she’d bring some home every payday.”

  “Interesting because for someone who’s trying to apologize, you haven’t actually said the words, have you?” I take another bite. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  The fact that we’re fighting while simultaneously carrying on an unrelated conversation doesn’t escape me. If anything, it speaks to the insanity that is Colton and me.

  “She’s a hell of a cook. Maybe you can try hers one day.”

  “What?”

  “And I did apologize—what do you think all of this is?” He waves a hand in the air.

  “I feel like we’re going in circles. You have not actually said the words ‘I’m sorry’ except to say you were trying to say you were sorry.”

  “Daddy, just say it.” Cruz has been watching the two of us like it’s a ping-pong match.

  “Fine.” Colton clenches his jaw before saying those two coveted words. “
I’m sorry.”

  I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “For?”

  He frowns in consternation.

  I smile. Not so fun being left to try and explain adult things in kid appropriate terms, is it, jackass?

  “I’m sorry for…” He pauses. “The way I behaved Tuesday night. My inability to process my personal feelings isn’t something I should take out on other people. I will do better from now on.”

  “Ah, the taste of crow,” I murmur happily to myself before addressing Colton. “Forgiven. Now, tell me more about Mama K and…”

  “Mama Mel.”

  “Have you told them about—” I nod my head toward the miniature version of the man across from me.

  “I have. They are planning to visit soon to meet him. They wanted to give us time to get settled. They’re excited to meet him—and you.”

  “Me?”

  “Of course. I snapped a pic of Cruz’s family portrait and sent it to them. They had about a million questions about you. So, I told them they could ask you all of them in person if they wanted answers.”

  “Lovely.”

  Colton nods, my sarcasm missing him entirely. “They are.”

  25

  Colton

  Now that Act One and our intermission—err, dinner—are both finished, it’s time for Act Two. And by that, I mean dessert.

  “Cruz, you wanna go grab the thing?”

  “Yeah!” He shoots off like a rocket into the kitchen and returns with a small tin and places it on the table in front of Ashley.

  “Thanks, bud,” she says to him before looking to me. “What’s this?”

  “Open it!” Cruz and I say in unison, though his delivery is far more energetic.

  “Okay, okay.” Ashley holds her hands up in surrender before popping the lid on the tin. “What are these?”

  “Cookies, Agent Purple. They’re cookies.” The duh is heavily implied in Cruz’s tone.

  “Half are peanut butter chocolate and the other half are peanut butter and fluff.”

  “Y’all made these?”