Distinguished Daddy
Once Upon A Daddy
Kelli Callahan
Copyright © 2019 by Kelli Callahan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Lauren
2. Walker
3. Lauren
4. Walker
5. Lauren
6. Lauren
7. Walker
8. Lauren
9. Walker
10. Lauren
11. Walker
12. Lauren
13. Walker
14. Lauren
15. Walker
16. Lauren
Epilogue
Daddy’s Best Friend: Sneak Peek
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Kelli’s Voracious Vixens
About the Author
Also by Kelli Callahan
1
Lauren
“Is this a good idea?” I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach and a glance at the girl walking next to me confirmed that she was equally concerned.
Madeleine doesn’t look very convinced—that’s not a good sign.
“I don’t know. Billy said these fake IDs would get us into any bar in Los Angeles.” She shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out…”
The bouncer motioned for the two of us to step forward, and I handed him my driver’s license—well, not my real one—but it had my name on it. He studied the driver’s license for a moment and then looked at me. I couldn’t tell if the scowl on his face was because he already knew that the license I handed him was fake, or if it was just his normal expression. My throat started to get dry, and I began to wonder if we should have tried to get into a bar that wasn’t so close to our University. We probably weren’t the first two college students to walk up to the front door of LA Dark and try to get in with a fake ID.
“Go ahead.” The bouncer handed me my license and stepped to the side.
“Thank you.” I tried to hide the surprise that was simmering inside me, shoved my fake ID back into my purse and turned to wait on Madeleine.
“Hold on.” The bouncer put one hand on Madeleine’s shoulder and crushed her fake driver’s license with the other. “I don’t think so—beat it, kid.”
“Wait, what are you doing?” Madeleine blinked in surprise.
“You think I can’t spot a fake ID? Get out here before I call the cops.” He pointed towards the parking lot.
Oh shit.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Madeleine obviously wasn’t getting past the bouncer, but I was already inside. If I ran back out, then it would look incredibly suspicious. I looked around the bar and wondered why they had a bouncer, to begin with—it wasn’t like the place was packed. It also didn’t look like it was the kind of place that someone my age would frequent—well, the age on my driver’s license at least. According to it, I had just turned twenty-one, but I had really just turned nineteen. I couldn’t believe my driver’s license had successfully gotten me into the bar when Madeleine’s didn’t. Someone we knew from college made both of them, and he was supposed to be the best guy on campus to get one from. I was still trying to figure out what I should do when my phone buzzed in my purse, and I saw that I had a message from Madeleine.
Madeleine: Hey! I’m your ride. Are you coming?
Lauren: I don’t know. What are we going to do tonight? The bouncer destroyed your fake ID. We won’t be able to get into another bar…
Madeleine: That fucking asshole. Why don’t you just stay and have one drink? I’ll wait in the car.
Lauren: Okay, sounds good.
We were only planning to have one drink anyway. It was more like a rite of passage than anything else, and we really wanted to see if the fake IDs would work before we went downtown to one of the more upscale clubs. It wasn’t how I originally envisioned my first year of college going, but I had fallen in with a crowd that seemed intent on having plenty of regrets before they graduated. After a few months of frat parties, Madeleine wanted to take the show on the road and actually start hitting up some clubs. Her dream was shattered for the evening, but she would probably have a new fake ID before it was time to try again.
Okay, one drink. I can do this.
“Hey there, what’ll it be?” The bartender was a guy that didn’t look much older than the age on my license.
“Um, I guess I’ll have a margarita?” I sat down at the bar and smiled.
“Frozen or do you just want it on the rocks?” He tilted his head slightly.
“Frozen works.” I nodded quickly.
“Coming right up.” He turned and reached for a bottle of tequila.
I looked around the bar a little more once I was seated. It was definitely a dive—no doubt about that. Most of the people were older and looked like alcohol had been a staple in their lives for quite some time. There was a game of pool going with a couple of guys that appeared to be in their mid-thirties chugging beer between shots. There was an older woman several seats down from me that looked like she was closer to passing out than finishing her drink. At the end of the bar was a man with silver hair and a beard that matched—he stood out from everyone else because he looked neatly groomed. His collared button-down shirt was pristine, but his tie was loose around his neck. It took me a moment to realize that I recognized him—and I had to double take to make sure I wasn’t just imagining it.
Holy shit. That’s Jamison Thorn—Well, that’s his name on television. I don’t know what his real name is.
“Here’s your margarita.” The bartender put a salt-rimmed glass in front of me that was practically overflowing.
“Thank you.” I smiled and motioned to the guy at the end of the bar. “Hey—is that…”
“Walker Delaney? Yeah, that’s him. He likes to slum it sometimes—most people don’t bother him in here because he’s from the neighborhood. They knew him before he was famous.”
Walker Delaney. So that’s his real name…
Walker Delaney was a soap opera legend—he had been on my television screen every single day since I was a kid. The soap he was on, Dangerous Thorns, came on right after school. Other kids got to go home and watch Nickelodeon, but I wasn’t allowed to change the channel until Dangerous Thorns was over—and that included the preview for the next episode. As I got older, I lost interest in the show, but I still sat down to watch it from time to time when I didn’t have homework I needed to get started on immediately. Mom would fill me in on the important stuff I missed—who was sleeping with who—and which younger actress they had decided to pair Jamison Thorn up with that week.
They never missed an opportunity to have a young actress call him Daddy when her panties hit the floor.
The thing I would have never admitted to my mother—was that she wasn’t the only person in our house that had a crush on Walker Delaney. There were a few times when he crept into one of my fantasies, and I imagined myself calling him Daddy—those fantasies were usually pretty intense too. Seeing him sitting at the end of the bar brought a few those fantasies to the front of my thoughts, and I couldn’t help but smile when I leaned forward and took a sip of my margarita—which was a lot stronger than I expected. My entire face puckered when I felt the tequila go down my throat. It was going to take a while to finish it off—which meant Madeleine was going to be waiting outside even longer than I expected.
Lauren: You’ll never guess who is in here!
<
br /> Madeleine: Judging by the people I’ve seen leave since you went in, my guess would be a hobo or a prostitute that doesn’t get many customers anymore.
Lauren: No, hold on… I’ll take a picture.
I leaned forward to take a second sip of my margarita, which went down a lot easier than the first one and tried to position my phone so that what I was trying to do wasn’t too obvious. There was a part of me that wanted to turn into a total fangirl, but I remembered what the bartender said. If Walker Delaney was drinking somewhere that he wouldn’t be bothered, then I wanted to respect his privacy—despite wanting to do the complete opposite. I made sure my flash was off and snapped a quick picture, but the lighting was too dim to get a good shot. I flipped over to black and white mode, which would usually take a better picture in a darker environment. The second I hit the button on my phone and saw the flash, I realized my mistake—the flash always turned on when I switched to a different mode.
Fuck!
Walker Delaney certainly noticed the flash—as did most of the other people in the bar. He turned in my direction, and the look on his face was one I had seen many times—it was the look he normally gave someone on Dangerous Thorns right before he completely destroyed them. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I stuffed my phone in my purse and started to stand up so I could make a dash for the door, but then I realized that I hadn’t paid. I grabbed my wallet and fumbled with it until I had enough money to cover the cost of the drink plus a tip—a rather generous tip, but I didn’t have time to ask for change. I turned to leave—and noticed that Walker Delaney was no longer in his seat—he was standing right beside me.
“Want an autograph? That way everyone will believe the picture is really me and not just some random dude in a bar?” He tilted his head slightly.
“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m so sorry. I—need to go.”
“You didn’t even finish your drink.” He motioned to my margarita. “People take pictures of me all the time. It’s not a big deal.”
“Okay…” I sat back down on my stool—and Walker Delaney took the seat next to me.
“Obviously you already know who I am. What’s your name?” He turned towards me and lifted his glass to his lips.
“Lauren.” I swallowed a lump that tried to form in my throat.
“I’ve known a few Laurens.” He narrowed his eyes. “They weren’t as pretty as you though.”
Did—did Jamison Thorn just call me pretty? I mean—Walker Delaney.
“Thank you, Mr. Delaney.” I tried to stifle the grin that formed on the edge of my lips.
He knows how to be charming; I’ll give him that.
“Walker, please.” He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Or Daddy—if you prefer.”
Oh my fucking god…
Madeleine got tired of waiting for the picture and sent me another text message, but I ignored it. I was one step from turning into a gushing fangirl and one step from falling in love on the spot. I was struggling to process thought—hell; I was struggling to remember how to breathe. I nervously sipped my margarita, which was getting better every time I lifted the straw to my lips, and just—stared. Walker was even hotter in real life than he was on television. I knew that the shirt he was wearing was hiding an incredible physique—one that most guys his age wouldn’t dream of having. He didn’t have muscles; he had mountains—mountains that were covered in gorgeous ink—or maybe the tattoos were just part of the show. It didn’t matter. He was still the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on.
“So, tell me about yourself, Lauren. What is a girl your age doing in a dive like this? You don’t really fit the clientele this place caters to.” He finished his drink and motioned for another one.
“I—uh, go to school near here. I mean, not high school obviously—I’m in college.” My throat was tightening up, and the margarita wasn’t doing anything to help alleviate that problem.
“You’re a little young to know who I am.” He reached for his drink as soon as the bartender refilled the glass. “Doesn’t your generation think soap operas are misogynistic garbage?”
I’ve had that debate with a few of my friends—but it’s never really been my opinion.
“Not all of us…” I leaned forward to sip my drink and saw my phone light up again.
“Someone really wants you to answer your phone.” He picked it up. “Madelaine?”
“She’s—waiting outside.” I looked up at him.
Did he really just pick up my phone and try to read my text message?
“Well we can tell her to go home, can’t we?” He took my hand and pressed my thumb to the sensor so that it would unlock.
His touch is like a fire that teases my soul—but no, that’s absurd. He’s old enough to be my father.
“What? Why?” I blinked in surprise.
“I don’t want to go home alone tonight.” He quickly typed out a message and put my phone down. “So, I’m taking you with me.”
Okay, scratch charming—he’s too brazen and bold for that.
“Um…” I looked down at my phone and saw the message he sent Madelaine.
Lauren: I’m going to stay for a while. You can go.
I leaned forward to sip my margarita, which was getting really close to the bottom. Walker ordered me another one before I had a chance to protest. I was certainly feeling it—but I wasn’t sure if I was more intoxicated by the tequila or the mesmerizing eyes that were focused on me. He was so—demanding, just like the character he played on Dangerous Thorns. If there was a camera filming us, I would have thought I was literally sitting next to Jamison Thorn himself—and not just the actor that played him. Walker’s stare could make a pair of panties wet when he was on the screen—it’s much more vivid in real life. The alcohol was lowering my inhibitions quickly—and I had to remind myself that I was still a virgin. I couldn’t go home with him. I wouldn’t even know what to do.
“Finish your drink, Lauren.” He motioned to the margarita that I hadn’t touched yet. “Then we can get out of here.”
There is no way in hell that is going to happen.
“Hold on…” I finally started to get control of my senses. “I think you have the wrong idea. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Let’s see what kind of girl you are after you finish that drink.” He motioned to my margarita again.
Roughed up charm didn’t work, so now he’s going to go for the standard approaching—liquoring me up.
“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t give you the impression that I was interested in going home with you. I used to watch you on television all the time when I was growing up—I was just having a fangirl moment.”
“Are you sure that all you did was watch?” He leaned a little closer. “Or did you think about me when the lights were off too?”
Wow, he doesn’t hold back.
“I should go.” I reached into my purse to get my wallet.
The fangirl moment has definitely passed.
“Hold on.” He put his hand on my arm and a tingle shot through my body. “I’ll take care of your drink—and I believe I promised you an autograph too.”
Why does his touch do that to me?
“It’s okay, you don’t have to do that.” I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and put it on the bar.
“I insist.” He grabbed the twenty, took a pen out of his purse, and started to sign it.
“At least I’ll know it’s worth something.” I shook my head in disbelief.
They say you should never meet your heroes—he’s never really been my hero, but maybe the same thing can be said for people you fantasize about.
“Here you go.” He put the twenty in my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Lauren. I hope you have a good night.”
“Yeah—you too.” I tucked the twenty into my purse and started walking towards the door.
The patriarch of the Thorn family that Walker represented on television didn’t seem to be
much different than the man who stepped into the role every afternoon. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. He was hot-as-sin, and even though I didn’t normally like older men, he was just—different. Unfortunately, I realized that underneath that gorgeous physique and those mesmerizing eyes was a man who was no different than every other red-blooded male I came in contact with. The only thing he was interested in was what was between my legs—or maybe he would have settled for my lips if I did a good job. Either way, I might have fantasized about calling him Daddy when I was younger, but the way he acted turned that fantasy off real quick.
I was tempted. I won’t deny that. I just have no interest in being some Hollywood actor’s random conquest on a Friday night. He probably won’t even remember my name tomorrow.
Madeleine was already gone, so I used my phone to request an Uber. Thankfully, they were plentiful in Los Angeles so one rolled up to the curb fairly quickly. I usually tipped the drivers with the app on my phone when I was forced to use the service, but I thought about just giving him the twenty dollar bill Walker signed instead. If it wasn’t a waste of money I couldn’t afford to spend, I probably would have. I pulled out my wallet and found the twenty that Walker signed. I opened it up and stared at his signature—then I realized that his name wasn’t the only thing he wrote down—underneath it was his phone number. I shook my head in disbelief and put the twenty back in my wallet.
Like I’m going to call him—what a freaking jerk.
2
Walker
Earlier that day
“Walker, I’m sorry. The time has come.” Jacob Young, the lead writer for Dangerous Thorns, leaned back in his chair. “Jamison Thorn has to die.”
Distinguished Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 1
