A few months later she’d left for good. The last thing I needed was another immature and possibly dangerous woman in my life. “I’m glad she was nice to you, but I think she’s fine.”
“I like her and I don’t care if you don’t.” Arms crossed, she glared at me until I relented.
When had my little girl grown up so much? “You don’t even know her, how can you like her?” What kind of spell had the copper haired vixen cast over my child?
“She’s fun and she talks to me about girl stuff. Oh my god, Daddy you have to see how much nail polish she has! Her sofa is purple and her chair is dark green because she says colors make life more interesting. Her spaghetti is the best and she fixed my curls!”
“Is that all?” Apparently, Sydney was smitten with our neighbor.
“Rory planted all the pretty flowers in the yard herself!” And apparently the woman could do no wrong.
Sydney had become very bossy over the past couple of years, so I knew she would badger me until I made things right. “Okay fine. I’ll apologize.” Not that I had anything to apologize for, but living with a feisty little girl had taught me the importance of picking my battles.
“Yay! Go now Daddy! Then maybe we can do our nails together.” She pushed at my arm trying to force me out the door and right into the good graces of our new neighbor. “Go!”
I glanced at the clock above the stove and groaned. “No can do kiddo. I have a consultation in an hour.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Is Amy coming?”
The sitter should have been here already, but it was clear that I needed to find someone more reliable than a nineteen-year-old with a ring through her lip.
“I hope so.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Better apologize to Rory soon,” she mumbled and hopped from the counter. “I’m going to read Daddy. Talk to her!”
I shook my head at how mature she sounded, already old enough to read for leisure. My little girl was growing up and her attachment to the neighbor proved she needed some female influence. With my parents on the other side of the country in New York and no serious relationship since Tracy, she was hungry for female attention. In the year since we moved to Portland there had been no females around to give it to her.
Two hours. That’s how long it took before I broke down and went in search of our long-legged neighbor. I found her on our shared back porch, sitting on the swing with those long, tanned legs pushing off the rail. Her legs were those of a runner, lean and toned, but smooth and feminine, especially in the blue-green dress she wore.
“Just the woman I was looking for.”
“You must have the wrong address.” Jade eyes looked up at me hesitantly. They were big and almond shaped, nearly dwarfing her face.
She was a smart ass. I hated that. “I’m quite sure I don’t.”
“Say what you have to say Sydney’s father.”
Ah shit. “I’m Kane Royal.” I extended my hand, ignoring the sting of connection when our palms touched.
“Rory, but you can call me Aurora.” She set a stack of paper and a red pen to the side. “What do you need, Doctor?”
If there was a hell I just earned myself a spot, because hearing her call me doctor in that thick, husky voice sent a jolt of lightning straight to my cock. “What are your plans this evening?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I mentally growled at her non-answer. “My babysitter hasn’t called and I really need to get to work.” I held my breath while her gaze raked me over so thoroughly I was pretty sure I would need a cold shower before leaving for the hospital. “Well?”
“Send Syd over.” That was it, just three little words and she turned back to her stack of papers. Dismissing me.
“I have a few rules to go over with you first.”
“For crying out loud, Doctor I’m trying to work here.” She gestured to her papers, green eyes big and wide.
“What are you working on?”
“My thesis.”
That didn’t make sense. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Do I look too dumb for a master’s degree?”
“Too young,” I clarified because I thought she might be flighty, but not necessarily dumb.
“Graduated high school early, skipped summers and here I am. Now what about these rules?”
“I think we should talk when you’re note quite so distracted.”
“Nope you’ve already stolen my concentration and now you have all of my attention. Use it.”
Did she have to make everything sound so dirty? I cleared my throat and tried to avoid looking down the dip in her dress that offered me a peek at royal blue lace.
“Bedtime is at nine. No soda or sugar after eight and-,”
“No smoking and no fun of any kind. No television, no nothing. That about it?”
Yeah. “No.”
“Right.” She stood and bent to gather her papers giving me a glorious view of her heart shaped ass, smooth tanned legs and just a hint of a shadow that told me she wore blue panties too. “No refined sugars. No R-rated entertainment and early to bed. Got it,” she said on a breathless smile as she turned back to me.
“Sounds good.”
“Good.” She walked towards me and the door but my brain had short-circuited and I didn’t move in time.
“Great.” Finally, I stepped aside and she laughed as she pushed the door open.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up.”
Yeah I was glad too, but instead of saying something and risk sounding like an idiot, I turned tail and fled into my house.
I wasn’t a coward, but I hadn’t been prepared for the way lust and need smacked me in the gut.
* * *
I knew this situation couldn’t stay the way it was without something giving. Over the past few days Rory had been happy to help out with Sydney when she could, and I appreciated it. More than I could possibly say. But the sight that greeted me when I arrived home earlier than expected was exactly why I needed to get a new sitter.
Pronto.
Sydney knelt in the grass beside Rory who looked like a wet dream in so tiny they barely counted denim shorts and a white tank that I was sure when she turned, would reveal voluptuous tits with nipples aching to be tasted. What made it worse was that Sydney wore a very similar outfit which fucked with my head in a big way. Both females were elbow deep in soil, talking and laughing quietly like they’d been doing this together for years. As much as I wanted that for my daughter, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rory was all wrong.
But she’s here, a voice whispered as though that were enough. Considering today was the last day of school, it just might be if I couldn’t find Amy or a suitable replacement. More suitable than the one currently shaking her delectable ass in my face.
“Daddy!” Sydney spotted me first, dropping her pink plastic garden tool and running full speed in my direction. “I’m helping Rory plant flowers,” she held up her hands wiggling her fingers so I could see all the dirt caked on them and under her nails. “She says its relaxing.”
Another thing I’ve had to deal with for the past week was Sydney quoting Rory when it came to everything from healthy eating, to reading and even beauty tips. Lately it was “Rory said this,” or “Rory said that.” It was enough to make a sane man crazy and I was on edge.
“How was your day honey?”
“Good. School is done and I’m ready for summer fun!” She punched the air, grinning up at me expectantly. “How was your day Daddy?”
I smiled because in some ways she was so grownup it killed me. “Good. Hectic. I delivered two babies and two sets of twins today.” I’d ran around the obstetrics department all damn day from one birthing room to the next before the ending the day in the OR to perform a C-section. “Want to talk about it over pizza?”
Her little head bobbed up and down, curls still wild, but looking more tamed with female influence in her life. “Can Rory come too? We’re doing our nails after
we finish.”
I couldn’t look down into her smiling face, so full of excitement and hope and tell her no. What would I say? “Sorry sweetie you can’t spend time with Rory because Daddy wants to fuck her six ways to Sunday?” No. So I said what she expected.
“Sure.”
An hour later they both rushed into the house laughing and looking fresh from the shower with wet hair and clean skin. Rory carried a big bowl that probably held salad because the woman was always snacking on something raw and healthy. Ugh.
“Daddy we’re here!”
Like I could ignore them if I tried. “Hey sweetheart, you smell good.”
She pulled back from my hug and preened. “It’s peach. Rory says a girl needs to find her special scent.”
Of course she did. “Rory has lots of advice it seems,” I said to my daughter, but stared up at the cinnamon haired woman. I should have looked anywhere but at her. Did the damn woman never cover up? She wore a white t-shirt dress that hit her mid-thigh and jeweled sandals. She looked mouth-watering. Damn her.
“I was just trying to help,” she said pointedly and set the salad on the table without looking my way.
It was just as well. My attraction to her made me a surly son of a bitch I knew, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Right.”
Her gaze narrowed in my direction, but she wisely said nothing. Instead she took the slice of pizza Sydney offered along with some salad and ate quietly while Sydney talked her ear off about everything under the sun. To her credit, she listened and responded appropriately, answering questions and offering up suggestions when warranted.
“As soon as I finish school I hope to continue my research,” she said in such a matter of fact tone it startled me.
But equally surprising, Sydney wasn’t put off by the mature conversation. “What is ree-search?” She sounded the word out carefully, drawing a smile from Rory.
“It just means investigating information to find out what’s true and what isn’t.”
“Like a police officer?”
“Kind of yes, only I’ll be investigating people and their behavior instead of bad guys.”
“People like me?”
“In a way yes, but people older than you.”
Now she had my curiosity piqued. “What are you studying, aerobics? Art history?”
Her posture changed, stiffened and her guard went back up. Her green eyes were chilly, but she kept her smile in place, probably for Sydney’s sake. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.
“It’s getting late Syd and I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She stood and squatted down so she was eye level with my daughter. “Thank you for helping me in the garden kiddo.”
“Thanks for my nails,” she replied and wiggled her fingers before hugging Rory tightly.
“Anytime. I’ll see you around,” she said and left without a backwards glance or another word to me.
Good riddance.
***
To be continued…
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Excerpt of Seal’d To The Cowboy
Lance
“Ready to go, Starling?”
I turned my head, locating the voice coming from the grizzled old man with the huge cowboy hat. It was good old Hank! He was here to take me back to the ranch. I should have known.
It had been a long, long journey, in more ways than one. Five years of service with the SEALs, and now it was almost over. The final leg was driving back to the ranch, which would take about half a day from the airport.
I ran a hand over my chin. Stubble had formed, I hadn’t had time to shave. Once the decision had been made, I just legged it. From Iraq to New York, and then another plane to Wyoming.
I held out my hand. “Hank, you’re gold,” I said to the man. His face split with a smile from ear to ear.
Hank was the head ranch hand at my ranch, the Starling Ridge. He had taken the reigns while I was on service, and since the old man had died. I hadn’t been back to the ranch in over two years.
“You look like shit,” Hank grinned, then enveloped me in a bear hug. Damn, it felt good. I had been through things lately that had made me miss home so bad, it almost twitched like the nerve endings from an absent limb.
Lance Starling. Special Forces SEAL. Hero. The names and labels that were once me. They felt like the drooping ribbons pinned to the chest of a child after winning a second-grade sprint.
“Hell, some things never change, Hank,” I told the old ranch hand. “Still full of compliments, you old son of a bitch.”
Hank laughed. It felt like old times. We made our way to the parking lot.
I stopped when we got to the car. “Old Betsy is still running?” I couldn’t believe it. The 1970’s Chevy pick-up was here in all her glory. I thought she would have been relegated to the scrap heap years ago.
“Still purrs like a woman under my hands,” Hank grinned. We climbed into the old girl. I smiled to myself. Travelling in Betsy, we’d be lucky to make it home before dusk. The old girl didn’t clock anything over fifty on the speedometer.
We got out onto the Interstate. Hank turned the dial to his favorite country station. The sound of Waylon Jennings crackled through the speakers, warbling about lost love.
I stared out the window. My eyes saw the mountains of my home state, but in my mind’s eye I could still see that arid desert in Iraq, where everything had gone to shit…
“Sorry about Jack.” Hank’s voice broke into my reverie. His voice was gruff.
“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” I replied. What was there to say, when your best friend since elementary school had just been killed?
“Want to talk about it?”
“You know I can’t, Hank.” I flicked a small spider that was crawling on the dash. “Classified.”
“Hell, Lance, I’m not asking for details,” Hank responded. His eyes were still on the road. “I know that you can’t talk about that. But how did he die, at least? His parents have been told nothing. I think they deserve to know a little. Gemma, too.”
Gemma.
The letters of her name hung in the air. Hank had brought her to life; it was almost like the scent of her perfume seemed to fill the old Chevy. And now I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Gemma Fox. Fox by name, and fox by nature.
Back at Clear Creek High, it had always been the three of us. Jack, Gemma, and I. She had been the one girl who had always done it for me; no one else even came close. There had been a time when I was almost there with her. But Jack had stepped in, and then it was all over. Done, dusted. They had gone steady since senior year, and written each other for a long time after Jack and I joined the SEALS.
But they had broken up by long distance two years ago. Jack had been tight lipped about it, I never knew what had gone wrong. I knew that Jack had played around, bedding quite a few of the women who hung around where we drank on our time off. I had always said how fucked up it was, with a woman like Gemma at home. How could you play around on that?
The thought of Gemma – luscious breasts, ample curves, lips like bee stung pillows – filled my mind, but I could never go there. There was just too much history between her and Jack.
“Lance?”
The spider started to crawl back up the dash from where I had flicked it. Crystal Gayle was crooning from the radio about not making her brown eyes blue.
“Things went wrong,” I said eventually. “The mission was supposed to be straight forward, but we were duped. Jack was caught in the crossfire.” I felt my hands ball into fists. It still rubbed, badly, that I couldn’t save him.
“Gemma will ask you when we get to the ranch,” Hank said.
“She’s at the ranch?” That got my attention.
Hank turned to look at me, taking his eyes off the road momentarily. “She’s been working as the ranch cook for a year now,” he drawled.
“Ever since her bakery in Clear Creek went belly up. Your Pa took pity on her. She needed a job. And she’s the best damn cook in Wyoming. Her barbeque ribs are so sweet they make a grown man cry.”
I laughed, despite myself. Old Hank sure did have a neat turn of phrase.
But I was unsettled.
I wanted to see her. Oh God, I wanted to see her so badly I could feel my cock tighten at the thought. But as much as I wanted to, I didn’t want to.
Gemma brought memories to the surface, that a man wanted to forget.
And then there was the laptop.
I could almost feel it on the back seat of Betsy; it was burning through the canvas of the bag like some artefact out of an Indiana Jones flick.
Jack’s laptop. Along with some of his other stuff, which I had taken after it had happened, intending to give it to his parents.
I wasn’t searching for anything personal, I had just been looking for something that might lead to what had gone wrong on that mission.
But when I saw her email address, I just couldn’t resist.
I had read it all. The disintegration of their relationship, how she suspected he was cheating on her, and how lonely she was. How she was trying to stay true to him, but he was so distant.
And then there were other things…
I felt the tightening in my loins again. Gemma. A real, hot blooded woman. She liked to talk dirty, saying in detail the things she would like Jack to do to her.
Which Jack never did, apparently.
I stared out the window, watching those mountain ranges whizz past.
Every mile bringing me closer to her.
Gemma
“Woo hoo Gemma girl, you sure look good in that dress.”
I felt the hand on my ass and turned quickly to swat it away. Old Forbes again, of course. That man had stickier fingers than the icing on a cinnamon bun.
“Now, Forbes, what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself?” I stood there, hands on hips, looking down at him. He was seated at the long wooden table, wolfing down his second bowl of my chilli. Or had been, before seeing me.
Seal'd to Her: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance Page 58
