Dating the DILF: A Single Dad Romance

by Amali Rose

  I’m about to head upstairs for a long hot shower, followed by Netflix to lull me to a hopefully dreamless—although if the past month is any indication, the mysterious Miles will no doubt appear—sleep, when a noise catches my attention. Pausing by the stairs, one hand already holding on to the banister, I take a moment to listen and it’s not long before I hear it again. A soft mewl that seems to be coming from my front porch.

  Opening the door, I turn on the porch light and I immediately spot what is making the pitiful sound. A tiny gray kitten is curled up on the top step, shivering despite the warm air.

  A tightening in my chest has me moving forward.

  “Hey, boy. Come here, sweet boy.” I make some kissy noises and I probably look completely ridiculous to anyone walking past right now, as I try to keep my movements as nonthreatening as possible so as not to scare the cat away.

  I needn’t worry though. The kitten looks at me with the saddest eyes and doesn’t move. When I reach the tiny creature, I kneel down and scoop him up, softly cooing, and pull him to my chest.

  Now that I have my hands on him, I can see exactly how small he is, and I realize he can’t be more than a few weeks old. I look for a collar with a tag but find nothing. It’s then that I notice he has a deep cut at the tip of one of his ears and the fur around it is matted with blood.

  “Oh, sweet boy, c’mon, I’ve got you.” I walk back inside, grabbing up my phone off the console table and google the nearest vet.

  McConnell Street Veterinary Clinic. I glance at the time and see that I only have thirty minutes until it closes, and so I quickly run upstairs and grab a blanket to wrap the kitten up in. Then, making sure I have my purse and phone, I settle him in the front passenger seat of my car.

  I’m not even sure if this clinic takes walk-in appointments, but what sort of vet would turn away an injured pussy?

  Ten minutes later, I am pulling into the parking lot of the large clinic, one hand on the steering wheel and the other softly petting the kitten, listening to his contented mewls.

  The clinic is still brightly lit, and I can see people moving around inside which sends a flood of relief through me. Gathering the fluffy bundle in my arms, I make my way inside and head straight for the reception desk.

  A petite redhead with kind eyes and a name tag that reads KYLA, greets me warmly. “Good evening, how can I help you tonight?”

  “Hi, I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment,” I start, apologetically. “But I found this little guy on my porch a little while ago and he has a pretty nasty cut on his ear. I know you’re closing soon but I was wondering if the vet could take a look at him?”

  Her brows furrow and concern is written all over her face. She leans over the desk, peering at his little face. “Of course, he can, follow me.”

  Kyla walks us over to a small examination room that is empty and motions for me to go in.

  “Take a seat. Dr. Kent is with a patient at the moment, but I’ll send him in as soon as he’s finished. It shouldn’t be too long.” She smiles warmly at me and hands me a clipboard with some forms. “If you wouldn’t mind completing these while you’re waiting, I can get you in our system.”

  “Of course.” I gently lay the kitten on the chair beside me, place my purse under it and, using the pen attached to the clipboard, I begin filling the forms out.

  I have just finished writing down my phone number when the door opens.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Kent. I hear you found a—” I turn to face the vet, curious why he cut himself off, and come face to face with the last person I ever expected to see.

  Miles.

  Cherry Garcia Miles.

  I want to run. Maybe perform an Olympic-worthy sprint out of this room, that suddenly feels far too small to contain the both of us. With the adrenaline running through me right now, I’m pretty sure I could be at my car before he even realizes what is happening. I mean, there is always the chance I might fall flat on my face like when I agreed to go running with Adelaide but, really, what are the odds of that happening three times?

  A soft meow distracts me from my escape plans and my fingers slide through the kitten’s soft fur while my eyes dart around the impersonal examination room, looking everywhere except at the man in front of me. Until his amused voice gives me no choice.

  “Charlotte Chicago. You are a hard lady to find.”

  Well, fuck me.

  It’s been about a month since our encounter at the grocery store. And by “about a month” I mean four weeks, four days, and roughly two hours.

  I gave up on my random internet searches after a week because, let’s face it, the odds of me ever finding her were pretty much zilch. I guess the universe had other ideas and I make a mental note to pay this amazing karma forward as soon as possible.

  I step back and take a moment to observe her. Just as I did at the supermarket, I search her face for any hint of recognition but once again, I see none. Her face is flushed, and she refuses to meet my eye. Her fingertips, which are painted a pale pink color—when the hell did I start noticing women’s nail polish?—are furiously sliding through the coat of the kitten on the chair beside her. All in all, she looks thoroughly embarrassed and altogether perfect.

  When my dick starts to take a little too much notice of the way her mouth is shaped into a perfect O, I clear my throat and attempt to act like the professional I’m supposed to be.

  “You found a stray cat?” I do my very best to keep my voice level and ignore the charged atmosphere in the room. It seems to do the trick because her head snaps up and she looks at me with eyes full of worry.

  “I did, he was on my porch and he has a cut on his ear.” She pulls the tiny kitten onto her lap and gently points to the matted fur on its ear. “It looks pretty nasty.”

  I take a couple of steps forward and ignoring my baser instincts, the ones that have me wanting to touch every inch of exposed skin I can find, I kneel down and examine the cat closely.

  Our foreheads are so close as we both lean over the tiny furball and, for a moment, I imagine lifting my head up and letting my mouth taste her. I wonder how her lips would feel. If they would be soft and yielding or would they fight me? Taunting and eager to take what they can from me.

  Then her pussy mewls pitifully, and I realize that I am undeniably an asshole.

  I clear my throat once again and, lifting my arms slightly, I quirk a questioning brow at her. “May I?”

  She understands and passes the cat over to me. I ignore the jolt of electricity that seems to follow her touch and move over to the examination table.

  “Yeah, that definitely doesn’t look good.” She has followed me to the table and her eyes are closely watching every move I make, which I’m finding pretty damn distracting. “I’ll clean the wound and it will need a couple of stitches. Normally, I’d scan her for a microchip, but she can’t be more than a few weeks old, so she’s too young to have had the procedure.”

  Charlotte is nodding along, listening closely.

  “I can call the local animal shelter if you want me to? They’ll come out and pick her up within the hour.”

  “Oh.” She appears startled by my suggestion and when her small hand finds its way to the even tinier paw and begins to rub it comfortingly, I know she has already lost her heart to the pocket-sized kitten.

  “I’m happy to keep him. I don’t want him to go to a shelter.”

  Her hands are once again smoothing through the cat’s gray coat. “Her,” I murmur distractedly.

  “What?” Charlotte responds, looking confused.

  “Uh, her.” I shake my head, making a concerted effort to pull my head out of my ass. “The cat’s a girl.”

  “Oh. Her. I’m happy to keep her.”

  “Okay, I don’t see why you shouldn’t. She has no collar, so there’s no way of locating an owner.” I step away and wash my hands at the small sink in the corner of the office. “Perhaps you could give me your phone number?” Her surprised expression clashes with m
y own, which is a picture of calm. I am not going to fuck this up.

  “Just in case anyone comes in looking for a lost pet,” I reassure her. “I doubt it will happen, but I’d hate for you to get caught up in convoluted catnapping charges. I mean, you get thrown in the slammer and you’d have to give up life’s little luxuries like bad romantic comedies, strawberry milkshakes and—” I pause for a moment, making sure I have her attention before I continue. “Mint choc chip ice cream.”

  I offer her a small smile and watch with a certain amount of enjoyment as her face turns beet red and her shoulders slump slightly.

  She seems to be so put together, the type of woman who is always in control and this small display of emotion feels like it’s completely out of character for her. I like that I affect her this way and I have to tamp down the desire to tease her a little more, just to see how she would react.

  “Oh God.” She groans, sending a jolt straight to my dick. “Can we please forget that ever happened? I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life.”

  “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” I say this over my shoulder as I start preparing the instruments I’ll need for the sutures.

  “You saw my ass.” She sounds cautiously amused.

  I turn and I can’t help my smirk. “It’s a great ass.” I shrug before continuing. “Let me just go and grab my nurse and we’ll get these stitches taken care of.”

  She nods, and when I step out into the now empty waiting room, I discreetly adjust myself and then go in search of Kyla.

  Twenty minutes later we have said goodbye to Kyla and the cat is falling asleep in Charlotte’s arms, thanks to the painkillers I gave her, and I’m going over some instructions with Charlotte.

  “She’ll be fine, so long as the wound stays clean. Just try and keep her inside for a few days and bring her back next week so I can see how she’s doing.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  She’s been much more relaxed since I broke the ice and mentioned Ass-gate, as I’ve come to think of it, so I decide to press my luck.

  “Look, Charlotte—”

  “Charlie,” she cuts me off. “My friends call me Charlie.”

  “Charlie.” I smile and I know I probably look like a complete dick right now, so I take a moment to appreciate the fact that Camden isn’t here to witness my first step toward pussy-whipped-ness. “I’m just going to lay it all out there. I think you’re beautiful and funny and I’d like to take you out for a drink and get to know you more.”

  It takes a moment for her to respond, and when she does, it’s not what I was hoping for.

  “You saw my ass.” Her voice is barely above a whisper and she’s biting her lip anxiously.

  “I did,” I agree. “Would it help if I show you my ass?” Her eyes widen and then drop down to my butt as though trying to see through my jeans. “I mean, my ass is nowhere near as spectacular as yours, but if it’ll make you feel better about seeing me again, I’ll drop trou right here.”

  Her laugh is light and genuine, and she looks almost surprised, as though the sound is foreign to her. Right then and there I decide I want to hear it again. And again. And possibly a-fucking-gain.

  “That won’t be necessary.” The heat in her eyes tells me that’s not the answer she wants to give me. “Okay, one drink can’t hurt, right?”

  “One, five, let’s just see how the night plays out?”

  She giggles, fucking giggles, and suddenly my dick is standing to attention as though he thinks that sound deserves a standing ovation. I shift uncomfortably, grateful for the clipboard in my hand.

  “My number is on the form I gave to your nurse, message me and we can arrange something.”

  Before I can come up with a witty reply, she’s walking out the door, kitten bundled in her arms, and an unmistakable sway to her hips.

  “Pass the corn, Nugget.”

  Tallulah eyes Grayson like he just asked her to kill a puppy and pulls the bowl of corn toward her chest.

  “No.”

  Gray looks at her plate which is remarkably free of any corn since she can’t stand it. “You don’t even like it,” he returns indignantly.

  “Do to.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Do.”

  “Don’t.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Grayson,” my dad barks.

  “Christ’s sake, Ryson.”

  “Tallulah, no,” I warn. “Dad, seriously?”

  “Yeah, Gramps, seriously?” Gray pokes his tongue out at a giggling Lulu. “Could you at least try to be a good example for Nugget?”

  I shake my head and look around the table. It’s Friday night which in the Kents’ world is family night. Tonight, we’re at my brother Thomas’ house, which somehow manages to be immaculate despite the fact that three kids under the age of seven live here, and both Tom and his wife, Chrissy, work full-time jobs. They’re the type of people who give you a complex about how bad you’re fucking up life in comparison to them, but they’re so nice you can’t hate them for it.

  It’s completely aggravating.

  My nieces and nephew, Tully, Carson, and Shae, are laughing right along with Lulu at Grayson’s antics as he continues to goad my dad. Thomas is watching with an amused smile and Chrissy is fussing over the kids’ plates, trying to encourage them to eat more. All in all, an average Friday night and undeniably my happy place.

  Despite our no-cell phone rule, I slide mine out of my pocket and try to check it on the sly. Charlie and I have messaged a few times over the last couple of days. Not a lot, but it’s been enough to keep me on my toes anticipating our next exchange.

  “Expecting a call?”

  I look up to see Tom watching me with a quirked eyebrow.

  “No, not a call.” I look to make sure Lulu is distracted and paying me no attention before I continue. “I met someone.” The grin that spreads across my face is met with a look of concern and a hint of suspicion.

  “You met someone? Where?”

  “At the grocery store.” I take a bite of roast chicken and chew while Tom considers what I’ve said.

  “You just met some random girl in a supermarket and asked her out? Do you really think that’s the best idea? What if she saw you on the show and is looking for a story to sell to the tabloids?”

  It’s times like this I feel sorry for my big brother. Always the responsible one, it’s as though he can never just experience the joy of a moment. He’s always considering and calculating. Worrying about some nameless disaster that only he can see coming.

  “I don’t think she has a clue who I am,” I tell him honestly. “She took off before I could even get a number, but then she came into the clinic with a stray cat on Tuesday. It was fate.” I smirk at him, knowing how much that will rile him up. Thomas Kent is far too practical to believe in fate.

  “You’ve been watching too many Sandra Bullock movies,” he says with a smile, which is quickly replaced with a look of unease. “That’s pretty damn coincidental. She just happened to stroll into your clinic? I mean the fact that you work there is pretty well known. It wouldn’t take much for her to find out.”

  I try to bite down my annoyance at his pessimism. He can’t help his overly cautious nature any more than Grayson can control his need for the last word. I glance around the table to make sure everyone is still preoccupied before giving Tom a hard look.

  “That’s not what this is, and even if it is, it’s my mistake to make.”

  “Jesus, Miles, don’t you think you’ve made enough mistakes to last a lifetime?” Tom’s voice is tight with tension. “First a one-night stand that changed your life forever and then a goddamn ridiculous reality show. Maybe, if you stopped acting like mistakes are a badge of honor, you’d stop making so many of them,” he hisses.

  The anger that sweeps through me is unfamiliar and unwelcome.

  “Mistakes are proof that you’re living.” I push back from the table. “Maybe you should try it so
metime.”

  I stalk away, heading for the kitchen and ignore the looks I’m getting from Dad and Grayson. I’m grateful that Chrissy is still too busy with the kids for any of them to notice my exit.

  Opening the refrigerator, I pull out a bottle of water and gulp it down while I try to calm down. Leaning back against the counter, I consider Tom’s words, but I already know I can never live that way. Life is all about risk and reward. You don’t get one without the other, and for me the ultimate reward has always been love.

  We grew up watching our parents, who were as in love on the day my mom took her last breath as they were on their wedding day. Hell, my dad’s love for her is still as strong nine years after her passing.

  So, I know what’s out there for me. I know the passion and warmth that can be found with another person and I’ll risk whatever I have to, to find it.

  Once I am sufficiently calm, I start to make my way back to the dining room. I know Tom only has my best interests at heart, I just wish he’d stop being so damn judgemental.

  I’m about to step out of the kitchen when my phone goes off, and when I see Charlie’s name on the screen, I know this isn’t a mistake.

  Charlie: Can you meet me at 20 W Seaford Street tomorrow midday?

  No, she isn’t a mistake. She might possibly be the smartest chance I’ve ever taken.

  I glance down at my watch before looking down the street. Again. For the seventeenth time since I arrived. Three minutes ago.

  Is it possible to kick your own ass? Because I’d kind of like to give it a go right now.

  I’m early, I remind myself in an effort to calm my nerves. I flick my eyes anxiously up the street again just in time to see Miles round the corner, heading toward me with a grin on his face. I really like that grin, I decide. It screams devilry with a dash of roguishness, and it leaves me craving a taste of something outside my normal.

  As he comes closer, I return his smile and watch his gaze sweep to the storefront behind me.