Daddy's Day_A Secret Baby Father's Day Romance

by Gage Grayson

  Brooke breaks our kiss and throws her face into her arm to muffle the loud moan of her climax—but I don’t stop.

  She looks up at me, her eyes wide, and her lips quirked upward into a grin.

  “You’re going to fucking ruin me.”

  “I hope not, because I was hoping to take this into the shower next.”

  She chuckles softly before pulling my face down into a kiss.

  Brooke’s hand wrap around my neck tightly, and she buries her face into my collarbone where she kisses and nips at my skin. The muscles in my stomach begin to clench and I feel that familiar sensation slither down my spine.

  My moans turn to guttural growls as I reach the apex of my own journey.

  Brooke can feel it too and her hips rock against mine with determined vigor.

  With one hand I grip the arm of the couch, and with the other gripping her thigh against my waist. It feels like breaking the surface after a long dive when I come and explode inside her. I feel Brooke’s own moans get caught up in a bated breath as she feels me tremble against her body.

  “We should end all our dinner dates like this,” she murmurs with laugh.

  “We should start them like this, too.”

  “Damn, I like the way you think, Dylan Andrews.”

  “Well, I aim to please, ma’am.”

  Chapter 21

  Dylan

  Since coming back to Texas, there are two things in particular that I now remember disliking the most about this state: one, the sun always seems to rise so much earlier here; two, the fucking heat.

  Brooke has slept like a baby all night. As for me, I’ve been tossing and turning and getting up on more than one occasion to splash some cold water on my face. And when the sun came up at its ungodly hour, I was already awake—much to my dismay.

  I slip into the shower to cool off and wake up. The water feels amazing, helping my dour morning mood, but doesn’t fix it completely. No, for that, I need coffee.

  Instead of getting completely dressed, I slip on my boxer briefs before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

  At first, I’m delighted at the sight of Brooke’s Keurig, but that quickly fades when there aren’t any K-Cups that are just coffee-flavored coffee.

  I find a flavor that looks the most appealing—vanilla hazelnut—and pop it into the machine.

  I’ll admit, the smell of the coffee isn’t all that bad as it fills the kitchen—but I know that first impressions can always be deceiving.

  I lean back against the counter—the cool granite feels great against my exposed back—and fold my arms over my chest as I watch the dark brown liquid pour into the coffee mug.

  It feels like it’s taking forever to fill up, much like this fight against my father and the state is going.

  A heavy sigh spills out from pursed lips.

  “Sounds like someone is thinking a bit too hard this morning.”

  I turn to look at Brooke as she stands in the archway to the kitchen. She’s got her disheveled black hair pulled back into a messy pony tail, and she’s wearing my gray sweater from last night like a night gown.

  I’d be lying to myself if I said that this wasn’t a sight I could happily see every morning for the rest of my life.

  “It’s too early in the morning to think about anything other than how long it is for this damn coffee to brew.”

  Brooke’s smile is so pure, it leaves me a bit weak in the knees.

  She closes the gap between us and stands on the tip of her toes to give me a loving good morning kiss, which I gladly reciprocate.

  “Vanilla hazelnut?”

  “It’s the only one you had that looked remotely drinkable.”

  “Well, when it’s done, pop in a chocolate raspberry truffle for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say before giving her another kiss.

  No sooner do our lips part does the coffee machine start to sputter as my mug has been filled.

  “Mm, perfect timing.”

  Her tone is far too cherry for this early in the morning, but then again, she slept rather soundly last night—whereas I didn’t.

  “So, here’s an idea. Why don’t you go grab a shower, do your thing, and I’ll not only make your coffee, but I will also make us breakfast?”

  “I don’t know if I should be suspicious that you’re trying to get me out of the kitchen; insulted that you think I smell bad and need to shower; or happy that you’re wonderful enough to cook me breakfast. And also worried that you’re going to cook, because I’ve never seen you cook anything other than toast in all the time I’ve known you.”

  I shake my head and laugh at Brooke as she smiles cutely at me.

  Fuck. I’ve missed her—missed this. It’s only going to make what’s coming that much harder for both of us.

  “I’ll have you know, Miss Sinclair, that I’m an amazing cook.”

  “Being able to boil ramen noodles without burning the place down doesn’t count, Dylan,” she teases with a smirk.

  “Ouch. Ye of little faith.”

  Our lips meet again for a quick kiss, and I hear my mug being pulled from the coffee machine.

  “What…hey!”

  Brooke doesn’t cease her thievery and takes a sip of my coffee with a smile.

  “Just needed a little pick-me-up to get to get me going.”

  She hands my coffee to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes that has me grinning like I’m as mad as a Hatter.

  “Well, if you need a pick-me-up, I can help with that.”

  “We’ll see how my legs feel after breakfast. I’m still surprised I can stand now after last night.”

  “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

  “Uh huh. Oh, and, Pickle, don’t burn down my house, please.”

  “Go. Shower. Now.”

  Brooke turns to walk away, and I give her a slap on the ass before she’s out of arm’s reach. She looks at me from over her shoulder with a cheeky smirk and a giggle before disappearing around the corner.

  “Alright, time to get cracking,” I say to myself as I bring my coffee up to my lips for a quick sip. “Well, fuck. This isn’t too bad, after all.”

  “I heard that!” Brooke yells from the stairway.

  “Well, I’m never living this one down,” I mutter.

  Once I’m certain—this time—that Brooke is out of earshot, I go work on cooking the breakfast I promised her.

  Soon enough, the kitchen is alive with the smell of bacon, odd-flavored coffee, hash browns, and seasoned eggs.

  As good as it smells, the heat is incredibly annoying, and I’m certain that I’m going to need a second shower afterward.

  I really can’t wait to get back to New York.

  I impale a piece of bacon with a fork and flip it over in the pan.

  I really can’t wait to get back to New York. As much as I love being here with Brooke, New York is my home. And I miss it greatly.

  It’s more than just the weather that I miss about the Big Apple. It’s the atmosphere. New York has a vibe and heartbeat to it that Fredericksburg just can’t ever match—not to mention, all the incredible restaurants.

  I know that I’ll be happy when I return victorious—and make no mistake, I will be returning home a winner after this whole fucking battle with my father is said and done—but I can’t help but feel that part of it will be hollow.

  Because, at the end of the day, I know I’ll be returning back to New York alone.

  “Augh, fuck!”

  A splatter of grease jumps out from the pan and singes my exposed flesh.

  “And this is why they say not to cook bacon naked,” I mutter as I forcefully jab another strip to turn over.

  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t entertained the thought of prolonging my stay here just to have more time with Brooke. Being with her again just feels so easy and right—it always has. But, just like before, I can’t stay here.

  Texas hasn’t been my home in fifteen years. That’s nearly half my life. And my time her
e, being constantly reminded of who I was in high school, only solidifies my resolve to return north.

  I do want—and so fucking badly, at that—for Brooke to join me.

  But, the problem is—as it’s always been—is that Texas is home for her. And while long distance relationships can work in some cases, I’m not entirely convinced that Brooke could, or would, do it. Fuck, could I even do it with the schedule I have?

  Sadly, I know the honest answer to that question—even if I so badly want to deny it.

  No, when this case is said and done, that’ll be the end of it all again.

  Brooke will be here. I’ll be there. And I’ll wish for every goddamn second of it that I could just wake up beside her and cook her breakfast—just like this.

  Chapter 22

  Brooke

  “It’s just a little bit of rain. And it’s not even raining now. That was earlier.”

  Jessie’s caught up with me, bringing her stallion, Tried, to a quickening trot alongside her other stallion, True, who I’m riding through the wet grass.

  “When did I complain about the rain?” I ask, incredulous.

  “You’ve been mentioning the weather all morning, and now, you kinda seem pissed.”

  True knows me well, and a quick shift of my weight on the saddle is all it takes to slow him down to a walk. Sometimes, I swear this horse can read my mind.

  Jessie doesn’t need to slow down Tried to match our pace; Tried knows to make that decision on his own.

  My eyes naturally venture to the quilt of dark gray clouds overhead. I keep a sigh in before it can escape and turn my head to Jessie.

  “I guess I have been complaining a bit, but I think I’m in a really good mood.”

  “That’s okay, but if you want to tell me what you’re really thinking about…” Jess surveys the expanse of open field in front of her.

  “Remember that brown pony Dylan’s family used to have?” I ask suddenly.

  “Hmm. I don’t know if I can accuse you of changing the subject.”

  Looking back in front of me, I accidentally move in a way that makes True slow down even more. Again, Tried and Jessie match our gait.

  “You asked what I was thinking about, Jess. Remember her, though?”

  “I remember. Her name was Gabrielle. She was a Shetland.”

  “Right. They couldn’t keep her there, of course.”

  I gawk up at the single, colossal beam of sunlight now shimmering through the carpet of clouds.

  Although I’m not looking at her, I can feel Jessie’s eyes on me for a second.

  “They’ve always had their assets, their everything, scattered all over the area. Henry, I mean,” she says. “Poor Gabrielle, though. Didn’t she have a lung problem?”

  “She lived a full life. She lived on that ranch just west of town. They had some of the best equestrian care in the county. We visited her once or twice.”

  Jessie stops Tried in the middle of the field.

  I halt True, as well, and we end up stopped, side by side, with Jessie looking at me suspiciously.

  “We?” she asks, eyebrows raised theatrically.

  “We. As in Dylan and I.”

  I bring True back to a walk, but stop after about a second when I realize how much it seems like I’m avoiding answering any questions. With a few light movements of the reins, I get True to make a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

  We slowly walk back to an amused Jessie.

  “This almost looks like a walk of shame,” Jessie teases. “Are there any more recent happenings on your mind today?”

  Even with the distance between us, I can see that knowing sparkle in her eye.

  “Maybe.” I shrug. “This is no walk of shame, though. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, and neither does True.”

  I instinctively survey Eric and Jessie’s endless private property surrounding us.

  “You know there ain’t another soul around for acres. Feel free to unburden yourself.”

  “I’m bearing no burdens,” I chuckle. “Let’s walk and talk. The only thing really on my mind right now is my last date with Dylan.”

  I ride to Jessie, and we start another slow walk back towards the stable.

  “And that’s not a burden?” she asks.

  I’m honestly not sure how serious Jessie is until I look over to see her smirk.

  “Not at all. I wouldn’t mind holding onto those memories for a while, maybe forever.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Memorable, that’s the word for it. It felt like I was visiting Der Lindenbaum for the first time since high school.”

  “You’re confusing yourself with Dylan,” she laughs.

  “I’m seeing it through his eyes, maybe.”

  “Or you’re realizing that it isn’t really Der Lindenbaum unless he’s there.”

  Both horses speed up slightly in unison. Jess and I get them from a near trot back to a slow walk within a couple seconds.

  “Y’all got some gall, keeping stallions here. It should be all geldings.” I shake my head.

  “You know how well-behaved they are, Brooke.”

  “Well, you know how Dylan treated me last time we had a date at Der Lindenbaum.”

  Tried and True change gaits on their own again, getting as slow as they can without stopping. Perhaps they know we need to talk some things out.

  “In high school, you mean? Are you still upset about that? Was I supposed to remind you, or something?”

  The clouds are breaking up slowly, revealing bits of vivid azure sky.

  “No, Jess. Sorry, this is all happening super fucking fast, but it’s good now. Great, actually. He apologized and everything.”

  “He apologized? Well, that’s got to mean something.”

  “I think so. And it was so…genuine.”

  “Well, you’ve always had that way with him. Must have made the night really something if it’s got you like this.”

  The stallions come to a complete stop, as if both of them know I’m not quite sure what to tell my best friend next.

  But she’s waiting for me to dish, staring at me in the middle of an open field where hiding—of any kind—isn’t an option.

  “It was. I had the spaghetti bolognese.”

  “Ooh, and what else?”

  “Extra sauce.”

  “Goodness! And what else?”

  “Bacon, eggs, pancakes, and hash browns for breakfast. Dylan cooked.”

  Jessie nods nonchalantly, and I hold back a laugh.

  “And what else?”

  “Um…more extra sauce?”

  A warm shiver of excitement charges through me as I think about that wonderful, post-breakfast time I had with Dylan.

  I’m still basking in the glow of all of it, really.

  Going by the feisty smile on Jessie’s lips, she has no trouble getting my double entendres.

  “It looks like all that extra sauce is doing you good. That’s fucking awesome, Brooke. I’m so happy for you.”

  I nod, smiling kind of daftly as Tried and Jessie start walking again. A gentle tug on the reins, and True catches up with them in no time.

  “You know what else is awesome?” Jessie asks, her eyes set on the stable on the horizon.

  “What’s that?”

  “I know the whole ‘Save Fredericksburg High’ thing is just getting started, but it is going fucking swimmingly already.”

  “What? How so?”

  Jess takes my confusion in stride, continuing right where she left off. “The cause is catching on like a wildfire in August.”

  “Catching on? With…”

  The horses stop again. At this point, I’m sure they can read my mind, at the very least.

  “It’s more than just our little group now. This shit has caught on with local politics and real estate blogs, talk radio, a couple national outlets like HuffPo…”

  Jess is beaming like I rarely see her. Last time she smiled this brightly was when Eric took her to Houston for
a Texans vs. Cowboys game.

  “Wow. I’ve heard none of this,” I marvel.

  “It’s just a bit of attention so far, but it’s happening fast, and it’s going national. It’s been on the front page of Reddit for, like, a day, with people from goddamn everywhere talking about Henry’s plans for FHS.”

  A different sort of warm excitement permeates the air around me. I’m still reeling from the shock of what Jess is telling me, but what’s sinking in is that what began as our little, local struggle has already caught onto something much larger than I could’ve ever imagined.

  “That’s…amazing. I don’t know what else to say.”

  Tried and True start ambling across the grass again. Carefully looking up at the sky, from what I can see, every last bit of cloud cover is gone. It’s gotten so sunny that I shield my eyes with my hand until we get back into the shade.

  “We’ve got the zeitgeist on our side,” comments Jessie as we dismount. “Things are looking up.”

  “They are, aren’t they?” True lowers his head and tilts it towards me as I gently pet his mane. “Things are looking so bright, I wish I brought sunglasses.”

  Chapter 23

  Dylan

  “Mr. Andrews? Right this way, please. The governor is waiting.”

  I stand up from my seat and fasten the top button of my pinstripe suit jacket. I grab my suitcase beside me and follow the red-headed assistant in the pencil skirt toward her boss’ office.

  I’m excited for this meeting, but I’m nervous as well.

  Meeting with Governor Davis isn’t what has me nervous. No, Governor Davis is a man who will be easy to maneuver. I deal with men like him in the courtroom and boardroom all the time.

  It’s the fact that my father will be here for this meeting that has me anxious.

  My father is, well, my father.

  He’s my hero, and I grew up idolizing the man. He was—and is—everything I wanted to be as a man.

  He raised me and knows me as good as I know myself.

  But I’ll also be the first to admit that I love a challenge.

  The red-haired woman opens the large double doors to the governor’s office, and I’m immediately greeted by the sight of my father and the politician sharing a drink of Scotch whisky.