“I know that. I wouldn’t expect it to be any different.”
“Good. But just so you know, Gabriel Dawson. Until you came back into my life, I didn’t think I would ever have the capacity to love again.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I nodded. “So we can both stand here today and say goodbye to Kyle and Rebecca. They’re the past. We’re our future. And I, for one, am happy that we went through everything we did to get to this stage.”
Gabe looked down at me and smiled. “Me too.”
“You know something else?” I said, as we walked away from the past.
“What?”
“I think your dad somehow had this in mind all along.”
Gabe stopped walking and turned to face me. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I get. And I reckon he’s up there somewhere now, a cold beer in his hand, feeling pretty smug that everything turned out all right.”
Gabe considered this for a moment. “Yeah, Charlie was a wily old dog, that’s for sure. It would be just like him to have engineered this whole thing.”
“Like our fairy godfather or something,” I agreed.
Gabe tipped his head back and laughed. “I tell you, when I finally meet up with him at the end of my life, I’m gonna bust his ass for the stress he put us all through.”
I reached up to kiss him. “And I’ll be right there beside you, darling husband!”
We walked hand in hand back to the car and drove back to the farm. Louie was out in the field playing with mom and dad. When he saw us, he skipped for joy and raced towards us.
Gabe picked him up and twirled him around. His laughing screams made me giggle. Once his dad stopped spinning him round he held his arms out to me.
“Lanabear, I want to give you a squishy hug!”
“Oh really, Louie-monster? Come on then!”
I took him in my arms and cuddled him close. Gabe stood and smiled at us, a look of sheer love on his face.
“Daddy, come on in. Let’s all have a squishy cuddle!”
Gabe roared as he opened his arms wide and Louie and I laughed as he enveloped us in his arms. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. Three years ago I thought my life was over. I closed my heart off to ever finding love again. Now, I was being half-squashed to death by the most amazing man I had ever known, and his adorable little boy.
Gabe’s hand snaked into mine and he stole a tender kiss.
“Love you,” he whispered.
“Love you,” I responded.
“Love you!” Louie shouted in glee.
We all burst out laughing and made our way inside the farmhouse, and set about the business of making family lunch.
As I set the table, I looked over at a picture of Charlie hanging on the wall. I could swear he winked at me. I shook my head and cursed the wily old fox under my breath, before pointing a fork at the picture.
“That’s quite enough nonsense out of you, Charlie Dawson. You got your way. And as usual, you were right.”
I nodded at the picture respectfully. Gabe sidled up to me and slid his arm around my waist. “Is my father bothering you?” He asked.
“No, Gabe. He’s simply telling me that he approves wholeheartedly.”
With one last look at Charlie, I kissed Gabe on the cheek and we wandered back to the table to eat. Looking around the table at mom, dad, Louie and Gabe, I felt wonderfully content. There was nothing fake about anything in this farmhouse anymore.
*****
THE END
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Daddy’s Rockstar Friends (A Reverse Harem Romance)
CHAPTER ONE
Jacine
I scrunched the hard copy of today’s Variety between my hands as the plane landed at LAX. The jolt of the aircraft hitting the runaway did nothing to relieve my pounding heart. Flying didn’t bother me, but the newspaper’s headline did…
Three Rock Bands Trade Blows in Eatery
Not three rock groups, but key members of three of the hottest rock sensations in the US, Arcane, Clash, and Obsidian, raged at each other. The insane violence spurred customers to run screaming from the trendy restaurant, Angelo’s.
Not an eatery, I thought wryly. The Angelo family will hate that.
A few though, including the ever-present paparazzi, snapped with bacchanalian delight pics and videos that flashed through social media almost as immediately as the event happened.
Welcome to the Information Age.
Tucking the trade rag in my purse, I prepared to flee from this seat with relief. Miserably I had spent the past six hours in it scrunched between two hefty women. In a hurry to get to LA, I took an economy class seat, a mistake I will never repeat. My thoughts swirled in a mess as chaotic as the passengers trying to disembark.
PR Head Suffers Cardiac Event after Three Clients Come to Blows.
That sidebar story was the piece that made my heart race. My father was there sitting in a business meeting with a potential client when the three rockers started the ruckus.
In thirty years of public relations, Franklin Alexander witnessed untold absurdities. Some of his customers practiced little discretion. His no-nonsense wrangling of stories and clients saved many celebrities from ruin. That and a rare reputation for honesty in the land of stars made him one of LA's top spin-masters.
I sympathized with Franklin Alexander, my father, but not Franklin Alexander, the businessman. I warned him that taking on the three musicians at once would cause trouble.
But I was too professional to give him a deserved dose of “I told you so.” My father schooled me in every angle of the business and I worked hard to prove my worth as the head of the New York office of Alexander and Wells. Though he would argue, running the New York office was more difficult than the LA branch. The New York celebrity base sprang from deep roots in music and theater, with a few cultivated from the film industry. That crowd demanded stability, reliability, and solid results for their cash. It was a jittery atmosphere compared to freewheeling LA, where anything was on the table, including a few lines of pearly white coke.
I stepped off the plane in louboutin spiked heels and took the crowded concourse in quick New York long strides that outpaced more leisurely West Coast residents. Anson, the family limo driver answered my phone call immediately.
“I’m here. I’ll meet you at departures.”
“Do you need me to get your bags, Miss Alexander?”
“Not to worry. No time to pack.”
My next call was to my stylist, which went to voice mail.
“Hi, Rose. It’s Jacine Alexander. Just got back into town. Please curate a current West Coast wardrobe for night and day, including underwear as soon as possible. Oh, and I lost ten pounds, so size it accordingly. Since, I’ll be at the hospital with Dad for most of the day, just drop off the collection at the house. Thanks.”
Anson drove to the entrance, and I didn’t wait for him to open the door, but barreled into the vehicle.
“The hospital, please, Anson.”
“Yes, Miss Alexander. But you should let me get the door.”
“New York changes a person. You become more self-reliant.”
“And quicker, too,” he said with a mischievous grin.
I smiled for the first time since starting this trip. Anson wasn’t just an employee. He was family. Anson worked for the Alexander family for as long as I could remember.
His tone dropped. “Is there news about Mr. Alexander? The staff won’t tell me.”
“My father didn't fill out that form?” I sputtered with exasperation. That irascible parent of mine had promised to sign and submit the medical information release before I left for New York. My father worke
d long hours and was not always accessible. Anson was my pipeline to keep track of my father.
“He may have, Miss. The hospital didn’t have it on file.”
I whipped out my iPhone and typed a message to Tobias Marshall, my father’s lawyer and best friend, and put him on the case.
Me: Hey, it’s Jacine. What’s the update with dad?
Tobias: I’m at the hospital now with your father.
Me: I’ll be there as soon as traffic permits.
Tobias: That was fast.
Me: Not fast enough. How is he?
Tobias: Trussed up with tubes and wires and spitting displeasure. But they want to keep him for a couple more days to do tests to make sure he doesn’t have any more blockages.
Me: Good.
Tobias: He’s worried about the business.
Me: Of course. But I'll handle it while he recovers.
Tobias: He doesn’t like it.
Me: Too damn bad. See you in a few.
“Anson, he’s fine. Cranky as usual. But they are keeping him to run tests.”
“Good. I worry about him, with his schedule.”
My light and breezy tone was a total lie, but it wouldn’t do to worry Anson. He took his duties too seriously. He still called me Miss Alexander and my father Mr. Alexander even though he worked for us for the past thirty years.
Anson turned the radio a light jazz station, and I worked on business emails during the drive. The work of Alexander and Wells Public Relations didn’t stop just because the CEO of the company was in the hospital. I sent a message to the head of our IT department and told him I needed access to my father’s email. I’m sure neither man would like that, but damn it, I’m determined that my father takes time off. He’s a strong man, but Anson is right, my father does work himself into the ground.
As soon as Anson pulled up, I dashed out. He would return to the entrance at my call when it was time to leave. This was so much better than cabs and walking in NYC. But here in LA, everyone drove. No one walked unless it was on the treadmill in the gym.
“Dad,” I said as I entered. I kissed him, and his mouth twisted slightly in distaste. He was onto me and knew I didn't come just to act the dutiful daughter. I gave Tobias a quick kiss on the cheek before I turned back to my father. Tobias’s hand lingered a little too long at my waist, but I shoved away that thought. My father deserved all my attention.
“I will not stay here a minute longer than I need to, daughter.”
“And I don’t want you too.”
“And I will go right back to work.”
“Nope. I’m not wasting a perfectly good plane ride back so you can get yourself into trouble again.”
“It was a mild event. Hardly happened.”
“That’s because you are too damn stubborn to let that shriveled heart of yours boss you around. But you haven’t had a vacation in five years, and I’m putting my foot down.”
“But the business—”
“Why did you raise your only daughter in it? So someone you trust can take care of things for you.”
“Are you accusing me of creating my workforce?”
“One child hardly qualifies as that.”
“It is when it’s you,” said Tobias with a smile.
“Funny, sir. Funny.”
“He has no sense of humor,” snapped my father. “And he’s right. And I won’t let you run over me like you do the New York clients.”
“Moi?”
“Your father calls you the wrecking ball,” said Tobias.
Not liking the sound of that, my hands flew to my hips reflexively. “He did?”
“Once. When you pulled that actor, what the hell was his name?”
“Bash Hunt?”
“Yeah, that asshole. You yanked him by the scruff of the neck from that whorehouse and threw the jerk into rehab.”
“You know how short leading men are.”
“Yes. Yes. You need to sit to look them in the eye and barely a handful,” grumbled the elder Alexander.
“And he was in no condition to make any protests. I got him out via the paramedics.”
“Still. He’s been a purring pussy since then.”
“I’m good at my job. That is no reason to pin invectives on me.”
“Oh, I believe he said it with pride,” added Tobias.
“You know,” growled her father, “with friends like you—”
Tobias shrugged and smiled his charming grin that always made me melt and calmed my father. I couldn’t help but admire his rugged body, salt and pepper hair and silver fox features. Tobias’s face featured a slightly hawk nose and prominent cheekbones. Though I’d known him forever as my father’s best friend, growing up I often imagined having him as my boyfriend. It was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. I might have said when I was five-years-old that if I didn’t marry my daddy, I would marry him.
A nurse came in to take my father for tests and told us to come back tomorrow. She stared more at Tobias than me, so he must have put his time in here looking out for my dad.
“Sure thing,” said Tobias. “Come on, Jacy, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“That’s right. Leave me alone with this foul hospital food.”
“That’s because you're on a heart-healthy diet,” said Tobias trying to hide his mirth. “No flavor for you since you ate the wrong things for too many years even though I warned you.”
“Get out!” my father declared imperiously.
So we did.
CHAPTER TWO
Tobias
I swallowed hard and struggled to keep cool with Jacine. It was hard to resist the urge to put my arm around her waist, to draw her close and breathe in the scent of her musky perfume.
Forty-eight years old, I am old enough to be her father, but damn if she didn’t light a fire in me that another woman couldn't.
I always had a thing for Alexander women. Jacine’s mother was a beauty that took my breath away. Franklin had damn good taste. But Jacy was exceptional. With her mother’s beauty, blonde hair, startling blue eyes, her tall hourglass figure and her father’s smarts, she was the full package.
It wasn’t until that first Christmas back from college that I noticed how much she’d grown. She left for Harvard a gangly teenager, a kid that I regarded with paternal affection and returned a bare four months later with a polish that belied her years.
Jacy knocked me off my feet.
But Franklin was my best friend, and I would never make a move on his daughter. That would cut across boundaries I didn’t want to cross. In fact, my attraction to Jacine freaked me out.
In one way, it was good. No other woman would register on my Richter scale and I could concentrate just on work. The yearning in my heart funneled into making cash, and a lot of it. Franklin and I were on par in the asset area, and I built a solid reputation as an entertainment lawyer. This is why I also worked closely with Franklin and in fact was on retainer with his firm.
So I tell myself this dinner with Jacy is a business expense, though I know in the most secret part of my heart what it is.
Time alone with the one woman I could never have.
Why would such a beautiful young woman want an old man like me? Sure, I kept in shape at the gym, but as each year passed, I felt the workout more in the muscles than the year before.
Even if this was LA and such pairing was as common as fronds on a palm tree, she was still my best friend’s daughter.
Off limits.
Do not touch.
A big neon sign flashing “forbidden.”
So, idiot me, that made her even more enticing than she should be. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.
I am not listening to what Jacy is saying because I think her plump lips look especially juicy, and I fantasize about biting her lower lip with my teeth and my hands cupping her creamy breasts. She dropped the tanning in favor of New York pale, but I like the look on her. Her blue eyes seem to shine brighter above the rose blush of her cheeks and her
blonde hair done up in a tight bun is the stuff of librarian porn. My breathing grows shallow, and she looks at me with alarm.
“Are you feeling okay, Uncle Tobias?”
Uncle Tobias. The kiss of death. Relegated to the old man zone.
I deserved that. I am a horn dog, a dirty old man standing next to a sweet young thing, and my thoughts aren’t just inappropriate. They are downright sinful.
I wish I were a religious man because I think there is a prayer that says “lead me not into temptation.” I could use that kind of help right now.
“I’m fine, Jacy. It’s been a long day.”
“We don’t need to do dinner now. It feels like lunch to me, and you know New Yorkers don’t do lunch.”
“You don’t?”
“Not unless it is a job interview. You don’t intend to interview me for a job, do you.?”
Oh no, but I could put those sweet lips to work.
I really, really must stop thinking like this, but when I am with Jacy, I can’t seem to help myself.
Wrapped in illicit thoughts, I didn’t realize that Anson brought us to an out-of-the-way bistro that seemed quiet. One of Anson’s talents was finding the right place to eat for the occasion, and today he deemed we needed a place outside the prying eyes of LA media.
“This okay?” Jacy asked.
“Looks fine.” I didn’t care. Sharing air with Jacy made me happy.
We took our seats and ordered, me a steak fajita platter, and Jacy a chicken salad. I got the feeling she wasn’t hungry, and to tell you the truth, I wasn’t either. But I ordered wine for both of us. Maybe that would get me through this meal with my dignity intact.
Single Daddy's Valentine: (A Small Town Fake Fiancee Romance) Page 9
