Living with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 4)

by Whitley Cox

  Aaron was Dina’s family, and Dina was Aaron’s—they were all the other needed.

  Calvin finished his beer, stood up from the recliner and stretched. “I’m gonna feel that round tomorrow, son. Might need to delay the rematch until I’m recovered.”

  Aaron finished his own beer and set it down on the coffee table next to Calvin’s. “Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

  Calvin’s grin was wide but his eyes tired. He yawned. “Well, dear. Should we hit the road? These whippersnappers want us back here at fourteen hundred hours.” He opened on eye and focused it on Aaron. “Right?”

  Aaron smiled. “Yes, please, sir. I would really appreciate it if you would watch Sophie for us. Would certainly ease my mind to know she was being well looked after.”

  Calvin opened both his eyes and nodded. “Gonna spoil that little girlie rotten. No bedtime. Ice cream for supper and cupcakes for dessert.”

  Isobel rolled her eyes but made sure not to settle her gaze on Aaron. She was looking everywhere but him.

  Damn. They really needed to talk.

  “Not yet, honey,” Harriet said, her hand falling to her husband’s back and urging him to head toward the front door. “Maybe in a year or so.”

  Calvin’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’m going to be her favorite.” He shot a grin at both Aaron and Isobel, who followed them to the door. “Or at least that’s the plan.”

  “Bye, Dad,” Isobel sang, exhaustion in her tone. “And thanks for agreeing to watch Sophie, guys.”

  Harriet leaned forward and hugged her daughter, then Calvin got in on the hug, all three of them laughing.

  Aaron stood back, hands in his pockets, eyes cast down.

  But he wasn’t like that for long. A big arm swooped out and drew him into the group hug.

  “Can’t forget you, son,” Calvin said, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s neck and pulling him in against Isobel’s back. “We Joneses are huggers.”

  Aaron released his hands from his pockets and gently let one fall to Isobel’s shoulder and then the other to her father’s. He chuckled, but it was awkward, and he knew she wasn’t laughing.

  “All right, all right,” Isobel said, prying herself out of the pile. “You two get some rest. You’ve got a wild baby to take care of tomorrow. Gonna need your beauty sleep.”

  “Nonsense,” Calvin said, pretending to bat a lock of hair off his shoulder. “I’m as beautiful as they come.”

  Isobel groaned, grabbed the doorknob and opened it. “Go, before I die from all the corny dad jokes bouncing around the room. They’re deadly.”

  They bid the Joneses goodnight and then Isobel shut the door, letting out a long exhale and slumping her back against the hard grain of the oak. “Love that man to the moon and back, but he’s exhausting.”

  Aaron laughed. “He’s not so bad.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the door. Her eyes held the same confusion as earlier, only this time she didn’t bother to hide it.

  He made to tug her into the living room so they could talk, but she broke free from his grasp, her head shaking. “I’m tired, Aaron. I’m going to go to bed.”

  His face fell, as did his heart. They couldn’t end like this. She couldn’t quit. She couldn’t quit him. “But you said we could talk.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about. This just isn’t working. We’re too different. You want a nanny with perks, and I want more.”

  He made to reach for her again, but she stepped away.

  “I’m going to bed. I have to run to the cobbler in the morning to get my black heel that was being fixed. I’ll take Sophie with me to give you some time to yourself before the service.” Then before Aaron could protest, reach for her again or take her mouth with his, devouring her excuses and pouring out his heart, she was gone. Down the hallway and into her bedroom, where she promptly shut the door.

  Shut him out.

  He heard a roaring in his ears as the magnitude of his actions, his behavior finally came to an unbearably ugly head. He’d just driven away possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him and all because he was afraid of opening up. Afraid of letting someone love him out of fear of losing them.

  Calvin’s words came back on him like a song on repeat.

  I let the grief and pain morph into anger and hate—because somehow it felt more acceptable to be angry at the world than sad. To hate the world rather than feel pain and loss because someone I loved was no longer a part of my world. I let the rage consume me. I nearly lost Harriet because of it.

  And that’s exactly what Aaron had done.

  He’d allowed his grief to turn into rage until it was all-encompassing, and it drove away the woman he loved. Drove away his world. His sunshine. His summer. Because even though the days were getting shorter and darker, and the wind was cold, and the rain icy, when he was with Isobel, every damn day was summer.

  Aaron stood in front of her bedroom door for a long time, his fist poised and ready to knock. Only he didn’t. He just stared at the dark wood, willing it to open on its own, willing her to give him a chance to explain.

  It never opened.

  Eventually, his fist fell to his side, and he got ready for bed. He needed a shower after that impromptu boxing match with Calvin. Impromptu but needed. Impromptu but welcome.

  He opened the bathroom door, towel around his waist, hair wet. Her bedroom door was still closed. He’d stared at her bodywash in the shower for a long time, hating the thought of never seeing it there again, never smelling the sweetness of it when he showered after her, never burying his nose in her hair as she rested her head on his chest or he spooned her from behind.

  His fist pounded on her door.

  Seconds later, it opened. A groggy-eyed beauty glanced up at him, yawning as she knuckled the sleep from her eyes. “Is Sophie okay—”

  His mouth was on her. His hands in her hair.

  The towel at his waist dropped, but he didn’t care. He rushed into her room, taking her down onto the bed with him, spreading his body over hers.

  The sheets and pillowcase smelled like her, were still warm from her body.

  She didn’t push him away. Didn’t demand he leave. Instead, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and her nails ran deep, painful tracks down his back. Yes. Any mark from Isobel was a mark he’d gladly take.

  She arched into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He released her mouth and dipped his head, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking it through the thin fabric of her tank top. She moaned, cupping the other breast and tugging on the other nipple until it peaked hard beneath the cotton.

  He pushed one hand beneath her shorts, cupping her mound and pressing his thumb against her clit. The sharp inhale of her breath told him he’d hit that sweet spot that caused her legs to flop open and a gush of warmth to drench his fingers.

  He needed to prove to her that he didn’t just want a nanny with perks anymore. He wanted what she wanted. A future, a partner. Someone to help him raise Sophie, to grow old with. Someone to be there every morning and every night and not as an employee, but as a co-parent, a teammate, a lover.

  His lips made a trail down her abdomen, peppering kisses on every freckle, every soft, silky inch of her, committing the lush curves of her body to memory. His tongue swirled around her navel, flicking the little sparkly barbell piercing.

  He was about to shuck her shorts off and show her exactly what she meant to him when the sound of a baby over the monitor on the nightstand filled the dark room.

  Isobel sat bolt upright and pushed away from him, swinging her legs over the side. “She needs me.”

  He didn’t bother hiding his erection and instead simply stood up. “Come back to bed when you’re done.”

  She shook her head, regret and pain in her tired eyes. “I know I said I was okay with this just being what it is. But I’m not. I lied. I want more. I’m tired o
f always feeling like I’ve done something to upset you. I know you’re angry, I get it, but I’m tired of it. I can’t live like this. I’m a happy person, Aaron. A really happy person. And it’s okay that you’re not, but I can’t live or work for someone who treats me like I’m a burden during the day and his private plaything at night.”

  “You’re not,” he protested.

  She shook her head. “It’s time I start listening to my head and not just my heart. And even though my heart is begging me to stay, to take the little you’re willing to give me and be okay with it, my head is telling me I deserve more.” Her bottom lip quivered and she averted her eyes, though he could tell they were beginning to well up with tears. “It’s not fair, Aaron, the way you’ve treated me. And at this point, I’m really not sure if there’s anything you can say to change my mind. You need to get some help, and I’m obviously not the one to do it.” She swallowed, then turned her body away from him. “I have to go tend to Sophie. I would appreciate it if you were not in my room when I return.”

  She padded out of the room, not looking back. He heard her humming and shushing Sophie on the baby monitor. They had a formula dispenser in the nursery so they didn’t have to walk all the way to the kitchen in the middle of the night for feedings. The brrrr and gurgle of the machine making a bottle mixed with her gentle singing. Once again, the words to Brahms’s “Lullaby” made his heart ache for his sister.

  “That’s it, Super Sophie,” she whispered, “that’s a girl.”

  He could just picture her sitting on the edge of the bed, baby in her arms as she stared down lovingly at Sophie as she drank her bottle.

  She was a one-of-a-kind woman. Kind and generous, patient and smart. But she was also strong—hella strong. She’d have to be to put up with all the mood swings and garbage Aaron had put her through over the last couple of months.

  He raked his hands over his hair and picked up his towel. He’d fucked up so bad with her. So freaking bad.

  Calvin was right. She loved him. Him, not the idea of him, not their little arrangement, but him. And he was too damn angry, too hurting to see it or let her in.

  He went to his own room and pulled on his boxers then a pair of plaid pajama pants and a dark gray Henley. He couldn’t let it end like this. Couldn’t let her walk out of his and Sophie’s life for good without letting her know what she meant to them.

  What she meant to him.

  The door to Sophie’s room was open just a crack. He pushed it open more.

  Isobel was curled up on the edge of the queen-size bed. Sophie was in the middle and a big pillow was on the other edge—not that Sophie was rolling yet but just in case.

  Sophie was sleeping again, and so was Isobel, her hand on the baby’s belly, Sophie’s head in the crook of Isobel’s arm.

  She looked perfect there. A natural-born mother. Even to a child that wasn’t her own.

  He stood there for a moment, letting the image imprint on his brain. This selfless woman had taken on a newborn baby and a dark and damaged soul—no questions asked, no demands of her own. And in just a few short months, she had not only shown Sophie the kind of love usually reserved for that of a mother and child, but she’d shown him love as well. A love and connection he’d been searching for his whole life but didn’t know it.

  He pulled the pillow off the edge and lay down, careful not to disturb either of them. He wanted to rest his hand on top of hers where it lay on Sophie’s stomach, but he didn’t want to run the risk of waking her, so instead, he remained still, watching the woman he loved care for the child he loved and hoping to God she’d hear him out in the morning. Otherwise, tomorrow was shaping up to be one terrible day.

  28

  Isobel propped open the door of the cobbler and pushed the stroller through, the bag with her fixed shoe swinging from her wrist. It was a drizzly day and a touch chilly, but unlike the last few days, when they’d been bombarded with a wicked wind, the breeze was mild and kept the raindrops from blowing sideways.

  She made her way down the sidewalk past the various businesses in the strip mall. Most of them hadn’t opened yet, as it was only nine thirty on a Saturday, but a few had staff milling around inside. She stopped in front of a jewelry store window, admiring a blue topaz pendant in white gold with small diamonds around it. She’d always loved blue topaz, loved the way it made her eyes pop.

  She wasn’t ready to head back to the house yet either.

  Waking up in the bed next to Aaron and Sophie had thrown her for a loop.

  When had he come in?

  Why had he come in?

  She’d nearly given in when he pounded on her bedroom door and kissed her. He just tasted so good—too good. And he smelled incredible. Fresh from the shower, all warm and wet and smelling like a forest with fresh fallen snow. She was weak to his advances and the way she felt when she was in his arms, when she was beneath him, when his lips were on hers.

  His kisses made her forget all the heartache and confusion he caused her. Because he caused a lot. He was rude and angry, moody and dark.

  She chalked a lot of it up to grief, but he couldn’t use that excuse forever. It wasn’t fair to her—it wasn’t fair to any of them.

  When she’d opened her eyes and saw him lying there, Sophie had only just started to rouse. Like a typical baby, she could grunt and squirm for a solid five minutes before bothering to open her eyes. It was her way of alerting the food provider that she was hungry and that they needed to get her bottle ready, otherwise, once the five-minute mark passed, shit was going to hit the fan.

  But Isobel hadn’t let her get past the five-minute mark. She hadn’t even let her get past the one-minute mark before she scooped Sophie up, grabbed a fresh diaper and then headed to the living room, taking great care to close the door behind her.

  She made Sophie a bottle, changed her diaper, fed her and then, once the baby was content and quiet, Isobel got dressed, and the two were out the door.

  She didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Aaron and having to rehash the awkwardness of last night.

  A cowardly move, she knew that, but today was going to be rough enough on him as it was. She didn’t want to add to it.

  So instead, she and Sophie headed out. Two girls on the town. They went to Paige’s bistro and grabbed breakfast and a coffee, chatting up Paige and her hilarious employee Jane. Violet popped in, itching to have her sweet tooth satisfied, and then Tori showed up—probably because Isobel texted her.

  The women rehashed the previous night and were divided. Tori was on team Aaron, as was Paige, but both Isobel and Violet were hesitant.

  “He’s broken,” Violet said, shoving a danish into her mouth. “And far beyond your repair skills.”

  “Broken doesn’t mean incapable though,” Tori shot back. “He just lost his sister. I think fractured is a better word. And fractures can be fixed, they can heal with the right kind of tenderness and care.” She fixed her eyes on Isobel. “And we all know that tenderness and care are your forte.”

  Violet wiped her mouth. “I know, but he’s treating Isobel like a call girl. That can’t go on.”

  “No, you’re right,” Paige added. “But maybe after today he’ll be able to find some closure and begin to move on. If you love him—which I think you do—then maybe give him a second chance. If he doesn’t start to make some real positive changes following her service and putting his sister to rest, then you can revisit your resignation.”

  Isobel liked Paige’s plan.

  She wasn’t ready to give up on Aaron, but things did need to change. She couldn’t continue to live her life on eggshells in his house, and she also couldn’t continue to be expected to warm his bed at night but be okay being ignored by him all day.

  A man in a black jacket and baseball cap bumped into her, shaking her from her thoughts. He didn’t bother to apologize—even though she did, though she wasn’t in the way. He wrenched open the door to the jewelry store and stepped inside, causing the door
to chime.

  Some people could be so rude.

  Isobel glanced down at Sophie, who was busy gnawing on her fist. “What do you say, Super Sophie? Should we go back and see Uncle Aaron? Do you think he’ll appreciate the pastry we bought him?”

  Sophie simply blinked, then proceeded to try to shove her entire slobber-covered fist into her mouth.

  Isobel’s car was only about four stalls up, so she pushed Sophie down the beveled edge of the sidewalk and around to the trunk, where she stowed the stroller. She was just putting Sophie’s bucket car seat into the back seat when the other back door opened and the man with a black jacket and a baseball cap slid inside.

  He pulled a gun from inside his coat and held it on Sophie. “Get in the front and drive,” he ordered.

  Her eyes dropped down to Sophie, and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest at the same time her belly went tight with knots strong enough to hold back even the wildest of horses.

  “NOW!” he bellowed, startling Sophie. The baby started to cry.

  Swallowing, Isobel nodded, her hands shaking as she rested her fingers on Sophie’s cheek. “I-it’s okay, sweetie. I-it’s okay.”

  He shook the gun and nudged her hand away from Sophie. “Fucking drive!”

  She nodded again, then backed out of the car, shut the door, grabbed her phone from her back pocket and texted the only person she could think of the only words she could manage.

  Carjacked. Help.

  All the blood drained from Aaron’s face and tendrils of terror curled into his stomach as he stared at the message from Isobel.

  And she had Sophie.

  Sophie and Isobel. The two people he loved most in the entire world were carjacked.

  He brought up her GPS coordinates as fast as he could. She was on the move. Or at least her phone was. He assumed she was still in the car, otherwise if her car had just been stolen with her phone in it, she wouldn’t have been able to text him.