by Jamie Knight
Bundle of Joy
A Christmas Single Dad Secret Baby Romance
Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Sign up for my newsletter and
get a free book!
Click here to get me!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Daniel
Chapter 2
Catharine
Chapter 3
Daniel
Chapter 4
Catharine
Chapter 5
Daniel
Chapter 6
Catharine
Chapter 7
Daniel
Chapter 8
Catharine
Chapter 9
Daniel
Chapter 10
Catharine
Chapter 11
Daniel
Chapter 12
Catharine
Chapter 13
Catharine
Chapter 14
Daniel
Epilogue
Catharine
Sneak Peek of Little Pumpkin
Chapter 1
Daniel
Imagine the thrill of careening down a long, scenic mountain on skis, the wind at your back and a gorgeous landscape in front of you.
Now imagine how much that experience would be ruined by trying not to fucking collide with a dozen five- and six- year olds who seem determined to ski directly into your path.
I suppose it would be fun if it was some kind of new video game challenge, but in real life, I can assure you, it’s no fucking fun at all.
Although I only became a father by accident, on most days, I quite enjoy it. Today, however, is not one of those days. It’s my son’s sixth birthday and we’re having a party for him at the local ski resort.
I thought it would be a fun way to celebrate, but I forgot that even though he’s known how to ski since he was two years old, some of his friends have not. In fact, for some of them, it’s their first time skiing, and that’s why they seem hellbent on making me crash – because they themselves have no control on their skis.
I’ve slowed way down to their level, even though it makes my son Charlie a bit grumpy.
“Dad!” he complains. “We’re never going to be able to go on one of the black diamond trails at this rate.”
“Son,” I say, reaching over to ruffle his thick mane of brown hair like I always do, before remembering that he’s wearing not only a winter ski hat but also a helmet on top of that, both of which make the task impossible, “I can assure you that we aren’t going on a black diamond run today at any rate.”
“But I want to!” he wails, kicking one of his skis into a snowbank and causing snow to fly up everywhere.
Recently, he’s been a little more difficult to handle than he usually is, but I blame that on the fact that I’ve been having to work a lot harder than usual at the tech business I’d founded. It recently merged with another large company, and the shareholders’ expectations for profit are higher than I’m used to.
In the meantime, my son hasn’t had his dad’s attention as much as he’s been used to. Meanwhile, multiple nannies have quit, citing irreconcilable differences, to put it nicely, or “he always has 24/7 meltdowns,” to put it bluntly.
It really isn’t his fault; I know he’s just acting out due to lack of attention from his dad, not to mention his mom, who is another story altogether. I was hoping this ski trip birthday party would provide for some good father/ son bonding time, but so far it’s been mainly whining from him, about things such as this.
“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you invited Jimmy and Timmy and whatever the other one’s name is,” I whisper to him under my breath. “The friends of yours who have never been skiing?”
I hear a light chuckle behind me and barely turn my head as the ski instructor the resort had assigned us for this party whizzes by. She stops expertly and gives me a look that’s a mixture of impressed grin and chiding scoff.
“That’s not very nice,” she says, clearly having overheard what I’d just said.
She must have ears like a fox, which would be fitting, since the old term to describe her would be “foxy.” Now, I’d just say she’s fucking sexy. Her muscular, athletic curves are on full display even though she’s wearing puffy winter ski clothing – there is no hiding that amazing body of hers.
I think she’d introduced herself to us as Catharine, but the gang of kids that had passed had been so loud, as they bickered over who was going to ride with whom on the ski lifts, that I might have heard wrong.
“Sorry, I can’t be a perfect dad all the time,” I tell her, with a wink.
I’m happy that she responds by smiling back at me.
“Do you want to do the birthday cake now, Mr. Non-Perfect Dad?” she asks me.
“The name’s Daniel,” I correct her, but it doesn’t bother me that she made that joke.
In fact, I find it funny. I just want her to remember my name.
“I know; we were introduced earlier,” she says.
So, apparently, she already remembered my name. I guess I was off to a good start then, without even knowing it.
“I was coming to tell you that the resort staff said the cake is ready,” she continues. “It’s actually one of my friends who made it, exactly according to your rather… um, extravagant… specifications, and I really think that Charlie will love it, so maybe we should go in now. Plus, it looks like some of the other party-goers are more ready for a nap than that double diamond slope you just mentioned.”
She points her ski pole down the hill at several of Charlie’s friends, who are all engaging in a variety of uninspiring activities, including lying around looking pooped out, having snowball fights, bawling their eyes out, or making snow angels. Only some of his good friends with whom we regularly ski are lined up and ready for the ski lift to take them back up to the hill that diverges to either blue or green trails.
“Sure, let’s do that cake now,” I tell her, which causes Charlie to ski quickly down the hill, yelling, “Cake time! Cake time!” to his friends along the way.
“I was just kidding about you not being very nice,” she says, as we catch up to him together. “I don’t have any kids myself, but I instruct enough of them here at the resort to know that it must be hard to not lose your cool sometimes.”
“You think I lost my cool?” I kid. “Did you not see Charlie?”
“Good point,” she says with a grin. “I can only hope he’s having a good birthday party, despite his outburst.”
“He is,” I reassure her. “And I really appreciate you teaching the ones who don’t know how to ski. I don’t think I could handle all these kids by myself, otherwise.”
“It’s no problem,” she says. “It’s my job. And besides, Charlie’s cute.”
“You think so?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her and wishing I could add, “You mean, like his dad?”
But I don’t. It would be inappropriate to flirt with her, even if she does seem to be daring me to. Not only is she currently on the clock, but she’s also helping me with my son’s birthday party. Not to mention that she’s probably half my age.
I can’t help it if I think she looks hot, though, I tell myself, staring at her cute ass as she approaches the kids and announces, “Children, please remove your skis and line them up in the ski racks right there. We’ll be going to the party area of the Happy Trails Restaurant, for Charlie’s cake, and other refreshments.”
“Will there be chocolate or vanilla cake?” one of the kids cries out.
I have no clue, and it doesn’t look like Cathari
ne does either, but he and another friend soon start fighting about which flavor is better.
“I’m allergic to peanuts,” another child randomly calls out. “My mommy will be really mad if I eat one. I could choke and die!”
Catharine and I exchange glances and she mouths, “Holy smokes!”
I knew that today was going to be a bit challenging, but I’m sure she’s a lot more used to all the perils that can come with gathering so many kids in one place and trying to do anything altogether than I am.
I had no way to know that their ski instructor was going to be so hot, and now I’m not only going to have to control my temper and have a little patience – something which is definitely not my strong suit – but I’m also going to have to control my libido and have a little restraint. Because all I want to do is rip the heavy ski coat off her and have my way with her.
From the way that she nods her head at me and chuckles again as we walk into the resort together, I have a feeling she’d like me to do it, too – which is why it’s going to be all the more difficult to resist.
Chapter 2
Catharine
I know that Daniel is watching me walk away from him, and I also just know that he’s wishing he could eat me up like birthday cake.
I don’t mean to sound boastful or anything; it’s just that we’ve made a certain kind of connection out there on the slopes. It’s the kind of connection that screams, “let’s just get it over with and fuck already, shall we?”
Of course, we can’t do that here, since it’s his kid’s birthday party and all. I don’t even know if we can do it at all, because, for all I know, he’s married, and the kid’s mom is too busy working to attend these festivities.
Sure, he wasn’t wearing a ring. But the only people rich enough to afford this kind of birthday party for their kid are usually part of a successful power couple. Or sometimes, in this day and age, there’s a stay at home dad, while Mom climbs the corporate ladder, making bank the further she gets to the top.
Daniel doesn’t give off stay at home dad vibes to me, though. He gives off strong alpha male vibes. He’s probably the type who likes to be at the top of his game, not only on the slopes and in the bedroom, but also in the boardroom.
“I’ll be right back,” I shout over the din of noise the ever-rowdy crowd of kids is making, wondering if anyone can even hear me.
“Promise?” Daniel shoots back at me, and I should have known that he’d be all ears – in addition to being all eyes.
“You’re just lucky I can walk away from all of this, even for a minute,” I tell him, before doing just that.
He’s nodding his head in agreement, and chuckling, and I’m glad he knows I was just joking. I don’t want him to think I’m some anti-kid meanie. It’s just that I can only imagine the feeling of having to watch one kid all the time, let alone all these kids during said kid’s birthday party. I don’t envy him – that’s for sure.
When I get to the back room where the big freezer is, I see that my co-worker Michelle has already pulled out the cake and set it on the counter. It’s probably as wide as my waist is and half as tall.
And that’s saying a lot because I’m no dainty girl. In fact, I’ve been complimented on my curvy physique by quite a few men, although, again, I’m not trying to brag, but rather to focus on the positives of being a big girl, since there are quite a few negatives, including being stigmatized and hassled by those who don’t like a woman so large – so this cake is big.
It’s blue and red and shaped like a truck.
“Holy fuck,” I exclaim. “I’ve never seen a cake so big.”
I’d heard from the staff that this cake order had been the most elaborate the resort had ever received, but I wasn’t sure what exactly to expect.
“Just wait,” she says. “It’s got to be set up.”
“What do you mean, set up?” I ask her.
She shrugs and says, “Jason and Matt are going to take care of it” – referring to two of our other co-workers, “because I’m making them. It’s so fucking heavy I almost couldn’t lift it out of the ridge. What kind of pompous, pretentious six-year-old gets a whole wing of a ski resort rented out for him on his birthday, plus a huge cake like this, anyway?”
“Hey, my friend made that cake and she gives really good deals,” I start to protest, because I had hooked my friend Sally up with this lucrative gig.
She’s a baker who has her own business. I met her through my friend Maya, whose cousin Mikewas dating Sally at the time, although now they’re way more than just dating. Sally’s cakes are always delicious and gorgeous, and I was glad I could help spread the word about them.
She’s such a pro that I had no idea she had made such an extravagant cake. Perhaps she has made a lot of them and I just never knew. What I’d been trying to tell Michelle, though, was that her prices are modest compared to a lot of the custom bakeries in New York City – even when she has to deliver the cake up here to the ski mountain.
But Michelle is obviously not listening to what I’m saying, as she opens the fridge and points to a tray of boxed apple juice.
“You have the honor of taking these out there,” she says. “I’m getting the napkins and plates and other crap.”
“Okay,” I say, lifting up the tray and trying to focus on not toppling it over.
Let’s just say I make a much better ski instructor than waitress.
“Did Sally leave?” I ask, absent-mindedly, as I look around for her so I can tell her how good her cake looks.
If anyone could call this monstrous contraption only a cake.
“Who?” Michelle asks, scrunching her nose up at me.
“My friend Sally. The person who baked this cake. Is she still here?”
“Hmm, no,” Michelle says. “I think I saw her cute little bakery van earlier, but she got in and out pretty quickly after putting the cake in the freezer.”
“Wow, she was fast,” I reDaniel. “Good for her.”
Sally had recently upgraded her bakery and bought the van for deliveries. It didn’t hurt that Mikewas a billionaire and could invest in her business. But it was also doing well in its own right.
“Yeah. I think it must be resort policy to have the vendors take up the least amount of time and space as possible, or something, because that’s what they always seem to do,” Michelle says. “They probably don’t want them getting stuck up here on the mountain in case there’s a snowstorm, so for sake of avoiding liability, they send them away quickly. Or maybe they don’t want the riff raff service providers fraternizing with the uppity resort guests. I don’t know. No one tells me anything, since I’m too low on the totem pole.”
“Well, I’d better this stuff out there,” I tell her, making my way back to the party.
“I think there’s some serious over-compensating going on here.”
Michelle picks back up on her little tirade from before as she grabs some serving items and follows me down the hallway, back to where the kids are.
And Daniel. Obviously I can’t forget that it’s where Daniel is, too – with his broad, tall shoulders and his handsome face and his head full of brown hair, that doesn’t look a day older than his son’s, even though I’d expect a guy that much older than I am to be balding by now.
“I mean, the kid’s dad has to feel guilty about divorcing his mom or something, or about being gone at work all the time, to throw a party fit for a king for a six year old,” Michelle rants on and on.
My ears prick up a bit at the part where she says maybe he’s divorced.
Probably he is, since, again, I didn’t see a ring, but some people take it off to ski, lest they lose it in the snow. Still, I don’t want to get my hopes up.
“I wonder how big of a check he wrote to the resort,” Michelle says.
I’m getting nervous that the young partygoers will be able to hear us soon, even if they are just kids and won’t understand.
And what if Daniel were to overhear?
> “Well, let’s not forget that checks like that pay for us to have our jobs,” I whisper back to her. “We need to be nice to the guests.”
I turn to glare at her, but she just rolls her eyes. It’s then that I notice that Jason and Matt are behind us.
One of them is carrying the heavy cake and the other one is carrying some kind of wired contraption that looks like the miniature version of a ramp that a truck drives up when it needs to be fixed. The name of it escapes my memory, if I ever even knew what it was called.
Let’s just say that I make a better ski instructor than waitress or truck mechanic.
“Here, I’ll help you,” Daniel says, rushing up to relieve me of the tray.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, at the same time that Michelle huffs under her breath, “Oh, sure, help the pretty girl.”
“Whatever,” Matt jokes, as he and Jason start setting up the cake. “No one helped us carry these monstrosities.”
He sees Daniel and adds, “No offense, sir.”
“None taken,” Daniel says, offering a good-natured chuckle.
Then his tone of voice turns somewhat apologetic.
“I know this cake was a bit of an extravagance, but Charlie’s former nanny suggested it, back when she was still working for us. Charlie overheard and couldn’t get the idea out of his head, even after the nanny left. Or maybe he misses the nanny and that’s why he kept insisting on this cake.”
“It’s no problem,” Jason says. “We aim to please the customer.”
I shoot Michelle a glance that says, “See? That’s how we should be.”
They plug in the cake – now, that’s a phrase I never thought I’d have to utter – and suddenly Charlie and his friends are surrounding it.
“It’s Optimus Prime!” Charlie shouts, and all his friends are clapping.
I shoot a blank look at Daniel, who fills me in.
“It’s a Transformer,” he says. “Like, Bumblebee? But this one is the one who is in charge of all the Transformers.”
