For The Love of Easton : A Single Parent Romance and Sequel to For The Love of English

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Of course not. Only he said he’d changed. And judging by his appearance, he has.”

  “I’m sure he did. But one thing is true. A zebra will not lose its stripes. That man isn’t to be trusted. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.”

  “Can I ask you something? What if my mother had never given you the chance to see me?”

  Dad grimaced. “It was different for us. I didn’t abuse her, for one. Two, I didn’t even know about you until you showed up on the doorstep.”

  “But what if? What if you weren’t given that chance?”

  “My God, English, you know the answer to that. You were my everything and turned out to be the catalyst for the rest of my life.”

  “Exactly, and that keeps replaying itself in my head.”

  “My situation and yours are entirely different.”

  “But are they? I worry if I don’t give Stuart a chance, Easton will miss out too.”

  “She won’t if she doesn’t know the truth.”

  Groaning, I said, “Is that even fair? Eventually, she’ll have to know and then will she resent me for not telling her?”

  “Fine. Tell her, but I’m begging you not to allow that man back into your life. It’s only going to cause you trouble.”

  “Dad.”

  “English.”

  We were at a stand-off.

  “Munchkin, I love you too much to see you get destroyed by him.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Please, all I ask is you trust me on this.” His eyes implored me.

  “I’ve always trusted you, but you never liked him from the start.”

  “And for good reason.”

  Maybe he was right, but something nagged at the back of my heart. I kept thinking about how I would feel if the positions were reversed. Not knowing the beauty of Easton would be like not having oxygen in my life.

  “Looks like I’m not going to change your mind tonight.”

  “I’m only thinking about it.”

  “I have to go. Your mother was cooking dinner when I left.”

  “Dad, promise me you won’t say anything to her.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. She’s my wife and my life. I have to tell her.”

  A rush of air blew out of me. “Okay, but I haven’t made up my mind yet. And thank you for coming over.”

  He brushed my hair back from my face, as he had done since I was a little kid. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Just remember that. I love you, munch.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  We hugged hard.

  He snapped his fingers. “By the way, I’m interviewing a photographer tomorrow morning at ten. I’d like you to be there.”

  “I will. Does he have a specialty?”

  “He does. Metro and people, but wants to expand into nature.”

  “That’s great. It would get you off those jobs so you can take more of the nature ones.”

  “Yup, if he’s skilled enough. I’d also like him to accompany me on some nature shoots, if he wants. It’s always good to have another set of eyes out there. What he sent over looked great, so let’s hope.”

  Dad met me at school in the morning and the three of us went inside. We went to Easton’s classroom, and I stuck my head inside the door and asked Mrs. Leonard if we could talk to her. She came into the hall and I explained the situation. Easton clung to my dad’s hand as I spoke.

  “The situation has gotten intolerable and it has to stop,” I said.

  “Let’s go to the principal’s office,” Mrs. Leonard said. We walked down there together as more kids arrived at school. We were ushered into a room where the principal sat. Mrs. Leonard explained the situation to him and apparently Easton wasn’t the only child this boy was bullying.

  “We don’t tolerate bullying at this school,” the principal said. “We’ll put a stop to it.”

  “How?” Dad asked.

  “In these cases, we usually send a letter home to the parents.”

  Dad rubbed his chin. I knew that movement. Something big was coming. “That’s not good enough. Easton isn’t the first child to experience the brunt of this boy’s bullying. I’m sure you’ve already sent a letter home and it obviously didn’t work. Do something else or we go to the school board and the news. I have influential friends in this town and can make this as pretty or ugly as you like.”

  “Is this a threat?” the principal asked.

  “Not at all.” Dad smiled. “It’s a promise. Thank you for your time and action on this issue.” He rose to all of his six feet and three inches, dwarfing the principal. Dad was imposing when he wanted to be.

  I walked Easton back to her room, along with Mrs. Leonard.

  “Ms. Bridges, thank you for coming in. I promise to keep an eye out for Easton.”

  “Thank you.” I hugged my daughter and left. If this didn’t stop, we’d change schools.

  After dropping Easton off, I headed straight to work. This was my usual routine. It allowed me to leave early to pick her up in the afternoons.

  My nose was pasted to the computer when Dad texted.

  Dad: Hey, can you pop over? The interviewee is here.

  Me: OMW

  I grabbed a notebook to jot things down and walked across the hall. As I entered Dad’s spacious office, both men stood.

  “English, I’d like you to meet Tristian Baines. Tristian, this is my daughter and graphic artist extraordinaire, English Bridges.”

  I turned and extended my hand but was caught in mid-stride. Facing me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. With eyes like steel and coal-black hair, he smiled, revealing a set of perfect pearly whites behind full lips that I wanted to kiss.

  He took my extended hand, saying, “It’s a pleasure.”

  “Indeed, it is,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. When I sat, Dad raised his brows.

  “By the way, Tristian, English is single.”

  What the fuck! My dad had just embarrassed the hell out of me. I conjured up the nastiest scowl in my armamentarium of scowls and flashed it at him. All I received in return was a happy face. “Well then, did I miss anything?”

  “No, we were just getting started. Tristian, why don’t you give us a rundown on your experience.”

  “I’d love to. I’ve done plenty of shoots around metro Atlanta, as well as Manhattan and LA.” He reached into his bag, pulled out a portfolio and handed it to Dad. “Here’s a detailed sampling of my work. I also have references from some publications I’ve worked for. I’ve mostly done freelance, which is why this particular position holds so much appeal for me.” He went on to give an in-depth history of his education and intern work, which was quite impressive. My inclination was to hire him on the spot, but I was swayed by his sexy voice and appearance.

  Dad asked him plenty of questions that dealt with the nuances of photography—lighting, favorite subjects, buildings, scenes, etc.—and then got into the technical aspects of it. They were already bonding as they laughed over shared epic failures.

  “English, do you have any questions for Tristian?”

  Dad startled me as I was gazing like a loon at Tristian. “No, other than when could you start?” A giggle bubbled out of me, making me sound like a teenager. What the hell!

  Dad smiled and said, “Yes, good question.”

  “I’m wide open.”

  “Do you live in Atlanta?” I asked.

  “Yes, as my CV states, not too far from here.”

  Ugh, I was such an idiot. “Uh, right.” I mentally facepalmed.

  Then Dad began talking money. I decided it was time to exit. “Excuse me. If you’re finished, I’ll head back to editing.”

  “Yeah. Hey, English, let me know when you have the rest of the northern lights photos done.”

  “I will.”

  Back in my office, I collapsed in the chair and fanned myself. Then I searched for Tristian’s CV in my computer. When I found it, I digested all his information. He was twenty-seven
, sexy, well-educated, sexy, hopefully single, sexy, and did I mention sexy? Dear God, being around him every day was going to be… sweaty.

  Then a lightbulb blinked to life in my brain. This was it—the perfect distraction from Stuart! If I allowed Stuart to see Easton, I couldn’t possibly become wrapped up in him again with Tristian around. Even though Stuart was attractive, he didn’t measure up when compared to Tristian.

  I was still daydreaming when Dad cruised in. “You like him. And I’m not talking about his work.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Tristian. You’re attracted to him and don’t deny it. I saw the way you looked at him. No, not looked. You ogled him, English.”

  “Well, it was difficult not to. He’s very handsome.”

  Dad threw back his head and laughed.

  “Why is that so funny?” Crossing my arms, I leaned back.

  “Because I’ve never seen you act this way.”

  That much was true. He’d caught me, dammit. “I can’t deny it. Truth be told, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone that good-looking before. He’s definitely a smokeshow.”

  “I approve,” Dad rattled off. “I did a background check on him, you know, as I do on everyone I hire.”

  “Already?”

  “I ran it after I reviewed his résumé. We do live in a world dominated by tech, you know. Anyway, he was so outstanding on paper, I knew I’d want him on board.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “His record is pristine. Never been in trouble with the law, outstanding work record, good family, nothing there to make me nervous about the two of you together.”

  I held up a hand. “Hold on a minute. Aren’t you jumping to conclusions? He may not even be interested in me.”

  “He is. I saw the way he checked you out.”

  “Checked me out? Dad, you’ll be his boss. That’s weird.”

  “How so?”

  Was he serious? “Um, weird as in dating the boss’s daughter. How will I know if his motives are sincere or not?”

  Dad threw out his hands. “Jesus, English. There’s nothing in it for him. He’ll be freelancing for me. It’s what he wants. There is no ladder to climb.”

  “Don’t be obtuse. You’re famous. It’s why he’s here and if he dates me, that puts him even closer to you.”

  “But it won’t make a difference. If he’s good at what he does, I’ll put him to work and pay him well, whether he dates you or not. He’ll be close to me either way.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  Dad laughed. “Now you’re the one jumping to conclusions.”

  “No, you are. You think he’s going to fall all over me.”

  “Why don’t we see where the pieces fall after he works here and not before?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I huffed and brought my gaze back to the screen.

  “What’s wrong? You’re not still entertaining the idea of allowing that shithead access to your daughter?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because it’s a terrible idea.”

  “That’s your opinion, Dad, and thanks for sharing.”

  “Not just mine alone. It’s your mother’s too.”

  “That’s nice. But this is my decision.”

  “It certainly is. Please, for the sake of your daughter, make this decision with careful consideration.”

  “Dad—”

  A hand came up. “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

  Stuart had a right, as her father, to have some kind of relationship with her. I didn’t want Easton to resent me in the future for not allowing it.

  Chapter Four

  English

  On Monday, Tristian showed up at the office right after me. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and looked mighty tasty. It made me think about the last time I’d been with a man—it had been with Stuart way back when. This girl needed to get laid.

  As I stared at him, he said with raised brows, “Hope there isn’t a dress code here. I forgot to ask.”

  I held back the urge to fan myself. “Gosh, no. We wear whatever is comfortable, unless you’re on a shoot that demands different attire. Dad should be in soon.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Should I call him Mr. Bridges?”

  “Pretty sure he’ll tell you to call him Beck. But if I were you, I’d call him Mr. Bridges the first time. He likes to have respect shown.”

  “I totally get that. Then show me to my workstation.”

  It was more of a demand than a request. It sort of rankled me, but I let it pass, figuring he wanted to get a start to make a good impression on my dad.

  “For the first week, you’ll work with him in his office.” I pushed away from my desk and signaled for him to follow me. “This is where you’ll be hanging.” I pointed to the spare desk in Dad’s office. “Follow me.” We went down the hall to the space where he’d be on the regular. “This will be yours and you can do whatever you want with it. If you need something that isn’t in here, just let the admin, Phyllis, know. She should be in any moment.”

  He entered the room, which contained a desk, computer with dual monitors, lots of shelving, and a large printer that was used for photos. “This looks good. I’ll be using my laptop so I probably won’t need those.” He gestured to the dual monitors on the desk. “You can remove them.”

  Damn, he was bossy. “Maybe you should give them a try first. Once you get used to them, a laptop becomes pretty lame for photos. It can be okay to load and look, but the duals help you decide with a better eye.”

  His eyes narrowed critically. “Don’t think so. I know what I like already.” Was he dismissing me like some nitwit who didn’t know this business?

  I rubbed my palms together, itching to remove myself from his presence. He was handsome in an extraordinary way, but this man was turning out to be a jackass. “Guess I’ll get back to work.”

  “Hey, how about getting me a cup of coffee first? I take it black.”

  All right, this was crossing the line. “I’ll be happy to show you the kitchen and the coffee maker, but I will not, nor will anyone else in this office, be your errand person.” My icy response should’ve imparted my anger. Only he ignored it.

  “Why not? No one else complained in the other places I worked.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the nineteenth century, or 1960 for that matter. You have two arms with hands attached and are perfectly capable of making your own coffee. Follow me and I can show you where.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. Was this asshole toying with me? I was fairly adept at reading people, but he had thrown me for a loop. I marched out, head held high in defiance, and went to the kitchen. He was on my heels and when I stopped to fill the coffee maker with water, he asked, “Are you angry?”

  “And why in the world would I be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. I only wanted some coffee and now you’re angry.”

  “Because you expected someone to get it for you, instead of asking where the coffee maker was.” He was positively infuriating. And obtuse.

  He grabbed the water reservoir out of my hands, filled it up, and asked, “Where are the pods?”

  “In there.” I pointed to the drawer where we kept them.

  “And the cups?”

  I opened the cabinet for him. “Right here. And wash your cup after you use it. We don’t do anyone else’s dishes around here except our own, nor is there a magical kitchen fairy that shows up every night to clean up this place.”

  His mouth twitched again. “Understood.”

  “Good.” I turned to head back to my office.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to work. Where else?” He couldn’t possibly be this ignorant.

  “Show me your work. Mr. Bridges sang your praises yesterday and I’d like to see if you’re as accomplished as he said.”
>
  “Yeah, no. Some other time.” As accomplished as he said. What the hell! This man was a complete dick. Too bad that hadn’t shown up in his background check.

  “By the way, nice shirt.”

  Glancing down, I saw the smiling faces of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Easton had picked it out for me to wear this morning. “Thanks. I love it, especially since my daughter wanted me to wear it today.” I started to leave again and his voice stopped me.

  “Daughter?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hmm. What kind of hobbies do you have?”

  Was this conversation never going to end? At least Stuart knew when to shut up… sometimes.

  “Hobbies? I work full time and have a six-year-old. Pray tell, when would I have time for hobbies? I fall into bed each night, exhausted.”

  “Maybe you should exercise.”

  That was it. I was so done with him. Mr. Smokeshow had just burned and fizzled out into a pile of dead cinders. “Maybe you should mind your own business.”

  “No, it would give you more energy. I run each morning. Get up at six and go out for an hour.”

  “Lucky you. And if I did that, who would watch Easton? The tooth fairy?”

  “What about a treadmill?”

  “Oh, I see. I could snap my fingers and one would magically appear.”

  “Why don’t you ask your dad to buy you one?”

  I crossed my arms and tucked my hands under them to keep from punching his pretty face. “What I ask my parents for is none of your business, but, since you brought it up, let me say this. I don’t ask them for a single thing. I work every day, just like you, and care for my daughter. She goes to after-school care when I can’t pick her up on time, but when I can, I work from home after I get there. Yes, I am fortunate my job is flexible. But I also freelance, like you. I have other clients besides my father. I don’t ask them to buy me treadmills or other exercise machines. When I want to buy something, I pay for things myself.” While it was true my parents gave me many gifts, they were things I hadn’t asked for, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “That’s refreshing.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an ass?”