Finding Our Forever: Single Dad Romance (Stepping Stones Series Book 1)

by Laura Riley

  The door to the backroom swings open and Cole appears. Like Gail, he’s sporting biker attire, even though the only bike he’s ridden has been a pedal bike. My brother’s tall, a little over six five. His brown hair is cut short, and he has ocean-blue eyes. He nods in acknowledgement when he sees me.

  “Yo, shitface,” Rick calls, “you were meant to be meeting us in the Golden Kite.”

  Cole shrugs. “What can I say? My woman needed me.” He wraps his arms around Gail. They stand and openly make out, her fingers clawing at his stomach.

  “How long till closing time, baby?” he breathes into her mouth. He isn’t one to shy away from public displays of affection. I personally never understood how you could share something so intimate with other people. Needless to say, Cole and I don’t share the same sentiment. With the pub still half full, he reaches under her miniskirt.

  “Get a room,” someone calls from the bar, to which Gail flips them the finger. Her gold sovereign rings look like knuckledusters before she places her open palm on Cole’s ass.

  My cheeks heat up. I can’t watch them, so quickly turn away, and of course look straight at Seth.

  “Lizzie, I’m—”

  I turn my back on him too. With nowhere else to look, I peer down into my drink as an orange segment bobs up and down.

  Cole finally tears himself from Gail’s lips. “Everyone, it’s time to fuck off and go home.”

  I look up. Red-faced, Cole unhooks a set of keys from Gail’s waistband and tosses them in my direction. “Lock up when everyone leaves. We’re just going to change a lightbulb.”

  Squealing, Gail runs for the back room, Cole running after her.

  Chelsea huffs. “Why does it need both of them to change a lightbulb?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  I lock the door when all the punters have left. Amber is behind the bar, Rick’s hand on hers as he shows her how to pull the ‘perfect pint’. Chelsea is asleep in one of the booths. It’s just me sitting at one end of the bar, Seth sitting at the other.

  He’s chewing on nuts from a crock bowl. I can see him attempting to make eye contact. I don’t cave. My stare is fixed on the back room. It sounds like they’re moving furniture back there. I heard Gail was into the kinky stuff, and from the noises I can hear, I believe it.

  I cover my ears with my hands. I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than listen to them having sex.

  “Put a song on the jukebox.” I don’t direct my request at anyone in particular, but Seth stands. He makes his way to the other side of the bar and flicks through the list of songs.

  I shouldn’t have hit him, but it upset me to think sex was all he wanted. He said he hadn’t had sex in a long time, as though that was meant to make me feel better. I’m nobody’s rebound.

  Apart from my brother, Seth was the first boy to show me what it was like to feel protected. Hell, my parents were never around. Maybe that’s the psychology behind my infatuation. He somehow resembled the father figure I was lacking growing up.

  After selecting a song from the metal band The Crew Rebels, he retakes his seat and continues to eat the nuts.

  “They’re full of urine, you know,” I blurt out.

  The nuts scatter over the bar as he releases them. “Excuse me?”

  “Everyone knows that you don’t eat nuts from a bar. Men go to the toilet and don’t wash their hands, then they eat from the bowl of nuts.”

  He gags. “Shit, you could have told me before I’d nearly finished them.”

  I smirk. I could have but chose not to.

  Seth clicks his fingers in the air. “Hey, Rick, throw us something edible from behind the bar.”

  Amber turns, brushing her finger down on Rick’s face. “What about my cherry?”

  “Oh, my.” Rick fans his face. “Have you got a curfew, little lady?”

  She reaches into the bowl of cherries meant for cocktails and pops one into her mouth. “Nope.”

  Rick pulls his wallet from his trouser pocket and drops a twenty on the bar. “We’re going to head off.” He claims Amber’s hand. “I think I have a lightbulb that needs changing too.”

  My mouth drops open as they exit the bar. Chelsea is a fantastic wingwoman. Not only is she asleep, she’s snoring that loudly that you can hear her over the music. Then it hits me I’m on my own with Seth. All of a sudden, I feel very exposed.

  Come on, Cole.

  Seth slides behind the bar and checks over the bottles of spirits. “Drink?”

  I circle my fingers around my glass. “I have legs, I can get my own.” I turn and glance around the bar. I’m sure they had a bald guy tagging along with them in the Golden Kite. “Hey, where did the other guy disappear to?”

  “Dave left with the redhead,” Seth replies, whilst pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

  “Looks like you’re the only member from your little group who isn’t getting laid tonight. Shame.”

  He covers his eyes with his hand, shaking his head. He looks embarrassed, and he should. “Will you let me at least try to explain?”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing to say.”

  He opens his mouth to protest when Gail and Cole stumble out of the back room. Cole adjusts the waistband of his trousers. “Sorry about that, it was a really tricky light to put in.”

  Gail bites her lower lip. “Sure was, needed a good screw.”

  I place my hands over my ears. “I get the picture.”

  Cole high-fives Seth. Standing tall, my brother puffs out his chest. “Dude, I’m the man of this establishment, get your ass from behind my bar.”

  Seth holds up his hands. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

  No, but you’re happy to stomp all over my feelings, you jerk.

  Seth sits at the bar stool at my side. Thick veins travel the length of his forearm and bulge on his hands. I glance at his wedding finger and see the faint tan line where his ring used to be. It makes me question if he still wears it, if he’s over his ex. I was way out of my depth tonight, assuming, hoping I’d find my forever. Instead I’ve been given a serving of reality, and it tastes bitter.

  Gail slices a lemon whilst Cole grabs the salt shaker.

  “Come on, fuckers, time to weed the men out from the boys,” Cole says, lining up a row of spirits. Gail grabs a deck of cards from under the bar and we join them in a drinking game.

  I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow.

  Seth

  I wake to a pounding headache as last night’s exploits come rushing back to me. Stupid! I can’t believe how much I drank last night. What the hell was I thinking?

  I crack open my eyes and see my five-year-old daughter lying at my side. Her brown hair is like a nest concealing her face. Brushing it aside, I see she’s dribbling on the pillow. Cute. I scoop her into my arms, her little head resting in the crook of my arm. Her PJ bottoms are sodden and cold. This kid could sleep through a tsunami.

  I got home late last night, four am to be precise. My sister was asleep on the settee, and Ellie was asleep in my bed. Seeing the state I’d arrived home in, Darcy said she’d sleep over so she could help me this morning. A hangover was certainly in the cards, and shit, I feel awful.

  Last night is all a bit of a blur, and the less I remember the better. But it keeps coming back to me, piece by piece. What the hell was I thinking?

  Cole’s little sister?

  Cole’s twenty-four-year-old little sister?

  God, I’m an idiot.

  I carry Ellie to her own bedroom and lay her down in her princess bed. Once I’ve worked her wet PJs and underwear off, I dress her in clean pyjamas.

  She opens one eye. “Hi, Daddy.” She reaches for her stuffed Nemo and hugs it to her chest.

  Tucking her in, I place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Go back to sleep,” I whisper.

  I make my way to the bathroom and have a quick shower. With a towel wrapped around my waist I return to my bedroom. I get dressed in a pair of grey sweatp
ants and a white t-shirt, then change the sheets on my bed, tossing the wet ones in the washing basket.

  I grab my phone from my bedside cabinet and make my way to the kitchen, opening my text messages en route.

  Cole: Oi, lightweight, are you awake?

  Cole: I need you to quote a job this afternoon, mate.

  Cole: Nvm, I’m sending Rick.

  Cole: Hello?

  Cole: We have a job starting Monday.

  I don’t read any more. In the kitchen, I blindly rummage through the medicine drawer while at the same time scrolling through my contacts. I click his name, deciding it’ll be easier just to call.

  He answers right away. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

  I laugh, popping two painkillers. “Waiting by the phone for me, were you?”

  “Something like that. Do you remember the house on Chestnut Avenue? The one that went up for auction?”

  Sipping orange juice from the carton, I think back. Chestnut Avenue is near the beachfront. “The house that looked like it was still in the 1960’s, had structural damage and was full of damp and mould? Yeah, I remember.”

  “That’s the one. I bought it for Lizzie.”

  I nearly choke on OJ. “You bought your sister a house?”

  “Yes and no. She needed somewhere to live, and I wanted a house for my pension. She’s going to rent it from me, at a reduced rate of course. I got a team of lads in to fix all the structural damage. Rick and I have completed the work downstairs.”

  “You kept that quiet,” I say, dropping a piece of brown bread into the toaster. I usually work with Rick, but the last few weeks I’ve been working alongside a subcontractor in a care home, whilst Rick and Cole worked on a secret project. Not secret any more.

  “We need a push on the upstairs. Do you think—”

  “No.”

  He laughs. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve got real work to do and that doesn’t include fixing your sister’s house.”

  I’m being obtuse, but I don’t want to face her, I can’t face her.

  “It’s my house,” he reminds me.

  “And your sister will be living there.”

  “I don’t know why you and Lizzie never got on. I could feel the tension between you both last night.”

  We got on fine in the Golden Kite. Until I opened my big drunken mouth and ruined it. “I don’t know, mate. She used to follow me around all the time and it got kind of annoying.”

  “I think you were her childhood crush. God knows why she liked your ugly ass. Rick I’d understand, but you?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “She’s a sweet kid,” he says.

  I cringe when he refers to her as a ‘kid.’ I rub my hand over the back of my neck and sigh. “Look, Cole, about her house—”

  “Seth.” His voice is harsh, and I know exactly what’s coming. “I need the upstairs finished and the loft converted into a bedroom. It’ll add value to the house when I eventually sell it. You and Rick are going to make it happen. Capiche?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “See you tomorrow,” he says before ending the call.

  Shit. Last night I laughed reason in the face. Today irony is laughing in mine.

  Seth

  Monday morning soon came, and boy, does it feel awkward stepping onto the threshold of Lizzie’s house with her brother and Rick by my side. We stop on her welcome mat, which is ironic seeing as I’m most definitely unwelcome.

  The front door is painted bright orange of all colours. Note to self: change the colour immediately. Apart from the God-ugly door, the exterior of the house is pleasant. The whole house has been rendered and is painted light grey. It’s a two-storey detached building, soon to be three storeys when the loft has been renovated.

  Cole leans forwards, pressing the doorbell. I glance down at my watch. Six-thirty am. We don’t usually start work this early, but we have the plasterboard, metal studs, fixings and loft insulation being dropped off any time after seven am. Cole wanted us set up and ready to start.

  Cole clucks his tongue when Lizzie doesn’t answer. He makes his way to the window and gazes in. The curtains are closed. “Shit, I hope she’s up. I did tell her we’d be early today.”

  He presses the doorbell one final time. I can hear movement inside.

  “Jeez, I’m coming, hold your horses,” Lizzie calls as the front door swings open. “Morning.” She yawns.

  By the looks of it, I’d say she hasn’t long got her ass out of bed. She’s wearing a knee-length black cardigan; I’d bet she threw it on quickly and is wearing her PJs underneath. She’s completely makeup-free. Her hair gives bedhead new meaning—it’s sticking up in every possible direction. She must notice my scrutiny as she quickly brushes her fingers through the tangled mess to no avail. If anything, she’s making it worse.

  She steps aside. “Come in.”

  We walk into the hallway. I slip my shoes off, noticing the cream carpets.

  “Bear with me, I need to get showered. I’ll make you all a drink when I’m done.”

  Cole shoots me and Rick a stare. “Bathroom is out of bounds for the next five hours.”

  She punches his upper arm. “I do not take five hours to shower.”

  My gaze momentarily meets Lizzie’s. She forces a smile before running up the stairs, I assume to the bathroom. I try not to think of Cole’s sister naked in the shower but, being a red-blooded male who hasn’t had sex for a long time, I can’t pretend that the image doesn’t flash in my mind.

  I’m going straight to hell.

  “Come, Seth, let me show you what makes this house special, the pièce de résistance.” Cole doesn’t wait for me to follow but runs up the first flight of stairs and straight on to the next.

  I don’t rush, especially at this time of the morning. I take a leisurely stroll to join him. My eyes go wide on reaching the loft room. Despite it needing a lot of work, I can see the potential. “Whoa, dude. This is pretty impressive.”

  “Sure is,” Cole says, walking between the temporary floorboards that have been laid.

  The room spans the entire length of the house. Natural light spills in from a large window that sits in the side apex.

  Cole puffs his chest out. “The steel frame and the glass were imported from Denmark. I had to get a specialist to fit it.”

  I know it would have cost Cole a shit ton. I’m about to ask if it was worth the outlay, but that’s until I take a look. The view is out of this world, an uninterrupted view of the ocean. I can only imagine the beautiful sunsets Lizzie will see from here.

  I rub my hand over my beard. “Remind me how much you paid for this at auction?”

  “Sixty thousand.”

  Not bad, he’s snapped up a bargain. The property is in a sought-after neighbourhood. There has got to be a catch—subsidence, a restrictive covenant, extensive renovation works.

  I know it’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask anyway. “And how much are you expecting the renovations to cost?”

  Cole’s eyes shoot up and his lips move briefly as though he’s working it out. “Around fifty thousand, and that includes labour.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  He smiles smugly. “No catch.”

  Shit. Once the renovations are completed, he’ll easily triple his investment. Houses in this part of the country, big or small, carry a hefty price tag.

  “Would anyone like a hot drink?” Lizzie shouts up. I can hear Rick talking to her on the second floor.

  Cole and I both call down for a cup of tea with no sugar. I’m beginning to think that the other night’s escapade is behind us, that is until Lizzie brings our drinks up. I take a sip of mine and it tastes as though I’m drinking pure sugar. After heaving, I can’t help but smile to myself as it goes down.

  Touché, Lizzie, touché.

  Me and the guys spend the morning prepping the job. The material arrives at eight am. We carry the rolls of insulation to the loft, t
he plasterboards and metal to the second bedroom where we stack them against the wall.

  Cole and Rick start work insulating the loft whilst I begin ripping the mouldy ceiling in Lizzie’s room. It hasn’t been artexed so it’s unlikely that it contains asbestos, but I wear my PPE as a precaution.

  Lizzie asks again if there’s anything we need. There isn’t. She politely excuses herself and spends the remainder of the morning sat in her back garden sunbathing. I may have noticed her from the bedroom window. By noticed, I mean ogled.

  Someone clears their throat from behind. I jump, nearly falling off my stepladder, which incidentally is positioned in front of the window.

  “Shit, Cole,” I say, grabbing my chest. “You gave me a damn heart attack.”

  Cole stands in the doorway; his red face is dripping with sweat. I do not envy him working in the loft room. We’re experiencing the hottest August on record. I know I’m hot, but it must be like a furnace up there.

  He juts his chin forward. “What do you see, Seth?”

  I jump down from the ladder.

  A cocky piece of shit.

  I remove my goggles and mask and look him up and down. Is this a trick question? Did he see me checking his sister out?

  He frowns when I don’t answer, then motions around the room. “God’s sake, Stevens, I must sound like a fucking parrot. What do you see?”

  As requested, I give the room a once-over. The walls have been taken right back to the brick and old plasterboard is scattered around the floor. Wires are pulled from sockets and a few floorboards are up, exposing the brass water pipes below.

  Wiping sweat from my brow, I answer him honestly. “I see a shithole.”

  He shakes his head. “Potential, I see potential.” He marches around the room, his chest puffed out and his hands wedged in his pockets. “What do you think about us investing in houses like this, doing them up and renting them? We can build a portfolio and eventually sell them. I reckon we’d make a tidy profit.”

  Looking around the room, I rub my hand over my face.

  Cole’s brows rise. “Well?”

  Seriously, he wants an answer now? He must know with any new business venture there are risks, risks I’m not in the position to take.