Daddy Secrets

by Mia Carson

  “Don’t,” he insisted, cutting her off. “It’s perfect.”

  She laughed in disbelief. “We’re staring at the same piece, right?”

  “Yes, we are. You don’t give yourself enough credit. All of your work is amazing, truly.”

  He wanted to tell her how deeply these pieces resonated with him, except the words were lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth. A darkness had awakened in him when he’d learned one of the brothers died as a result of the accident. He was involved in the loss of life, and though everyone explained it wasn’t his fault, he was still part of the reason that man died and why the other brother was still in a coma. It ate away at him, a man who’d spent his days pleasuring himself with women and doing what he wanted when he wanted without a care for anyone else. The darkness was always there, stuck inside him with no way to get out until now. The images surrounding him were exactly what he felt day in and day out, and there they were on display from a woman he never would have expected to have as such buried within her.

  “These don’t freak you out? You don’t want me to quit?” she asked tentatively.

  “Why would I want you to quit?”

  She hopped up on one of the worktables, rubbing her hands down her thighs. “Most people run in the other direction when they see my work, especially…well…never mind.”

  “You know, you told me when we first met if I ever needed to talk, you were here for me?” he reminded her. “That goes both ways, just so you know. You can talk to me, Remy. I’m not going to run.” He glanced at his legs and smirked. “It’s not like I could, even if I wanted to.”

  “Did you just crack a joke about your legs?” she asked, and he heard the laughter in her words.

  “I think I did,” he answered and let out a chuckle. “Now, come on, who especially runs away?”

  She hung her head, the locks of chestnut hair hiding her face as she mumbled something, but Stan didn’t catch it.

  “Remy,” he pushed, and she lifted her head, throwing her hair over her shoulders.

  “Guys, okay? Guys see this shit and they think I’m some crazy emo chick,” she snapped. “My dating life sucks because of my art, but I can’t seem to paint anything happy. It doesn’t work, so I don’t have a lot friends and my longest boyfriend lasted two weeks.”

  “What happened with him?” Stan asked as another realization crossed his mind as she spoke.

  “I finally let him see my art. He broke up with me that night. I’m un-dateable, apparently. I’m twenty-five and I’ve never had a real relationship, never even had—” She shoved a hand over her mouth, her face bright red as her eyes widened.

  Stan already suspected that was the case, but hearing her say it did little to scare him away. If anything, he wanted her now more than before. She was untouched by a man, and the primal urge to possess this woman gave him the drive to make it to his feet and take the four steps needed to close the distance between them.

  “Stan, what are you doing?” she asked. “Your legs.”

  He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, placing his palms on the table on either side of her legs. “They’ll survive for a few minutes,” he grunted. “I, however, will not if I don’t kiss you again.”

  She started to protest, but his lips found hers. She melted against him, gripping his shoulders hard as she moved her mouth over his. He wanted to know everything about this woman, needed the time to do it. He should’ve pulled back before he scared her into running away, but she spread her thighs and his body slipped into the open space between. The pain in his legs faded as he reached up and caught the nape of her neck, and her legs wrapped around his waist. His cock throbbed in his jeans, constricted by the fabric and wanting desperately to seek out her depths, have her ride him and scream with pleasure for the very first time. He pictured it happening, and as though she read his mind, her tongue darted into his mouth as her legs tightened their hold on his body.

  “Stan,” she whispered breathless against his lips. “What are… what are we doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop,” he replied, his lips moving to her jawline and licking a trail down her neck. She shivered, and he leaned into her more, hoping she felt him pressed between her legs. From the sudden twitch of her hips, she did, and he wished he could carry her down the hall and deposit her in his bed.

  His legs trembled, and suddenly, he was unable to keep standing. Remy hopped off the table quickly and grabbed him around the middle. “Damn it, Stan,” she muttered and got him back into his chair. His legs shaking, he grunted in pain. “That’s it. I’m taking you to bed.”

  He grinned at her words, and his hand snaked around to grab her ass. Her eyes darkened and she leaned down to kiss him before pushing his hand aside.

  “Not like that.”

  “You mean not yet,” he added.

  He didn’t see her face as she moved behind his chair to push him out of the studio, but he sensed the mixed range of wanting to take him up on his offer and worry. She entered his bedroom and parked his chair by the bed. Without a word, she turned for the door, but he reached out and caught her hand.

  “Wait, Remy,” he whispered. “Hold on a second.”

  She stopped and turned reluctantly to face him. “What?’

  “I don’t want you to think that whatever might happen between us will in any way affect your job here,” he told her firmly. “This, whatever this is… you’re not the only one it’s new for.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve been through this before.”

  He let go of her hand, unsure what she meant. “I have?”

  “Yeah. You’ve been in relationships and you loved someone before, and I don’t want to stomp all over that or make your life difficult with Louis and trying to figure everything out,” she mumbled. “That’s not what I came here to do.”

  Stan sagged in his chair as everything clicked about why she tried to distance herself. “You heard me tell Louis I loved Lara.”

  Remy bobbed her head once. “I don’t know how to navigate this, whatever this is.”

  “I don’t either,” he said, but she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to leave again. “No, now wait a damned second. Lara was a completely different woman than you. She wasn’t interested in a solid relationship, or in settling down. She was too much of a traveler, loved bouncing around the globe and doing what she wanted when she wanted. I don’t even think she loved me the way I loved her.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I have no idea, honestly,” he admitted with a shaky laugh, “but I know that I want to see where this could go. You are the first woman in a long time to affect me this way. You’re the first to make me smile, or get me to laugh.”

  Remy smiled softly. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No. No, I’m not. I don’t want you here because you’re great with Louis. I need you, Remy. I do, and I want you here,” he said, reaching out for her hand again. “Can we agree that whatever this might be, it’s mutual and we’ll see where it goes?”

  “And if it ends in a massive blowup?”

  He prayed it wouldn’t, but there was always a chance he would fuck things up. “Then we agree right now to go our separate ways, no hard feelings.”

  “And Louis can’t see anything,” she added. “I don’t want him dealing with anything else.”

  “Deal,” he agreed, and she shook his outstretched hand. “Does that mean you’ll stay tonight? With me?”

  Her hand gripped his tighter, and she glanced over his shoulder at the king-sized bed. “I’m still not sure what I want to do.”

  His heart sank, but he let her go. “Just know I’m here and I’m not giving up.”

  “Maybe you should take that principle and apply it to yourself,” she said sternly.

  Stan ground his teeth, but she turned around and left before he had a chance to respond. She was right, but what she didn’t realize was her being there with him was already
pushing him towards wanting to get better. He might not show it enough, but the drive was coming back, if only so he could chase her the next time she darted out of a room, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her right back to his bed. She was meant to be with him, and he started to think it was for much more than helping him and Louis make their new family work.

  Remy was a fit for him in nearly every way. She would see it soon enough. He would have to get her to see what he did every time they were in a room together.

  Chapter 9

  Another week passed at the Wellington mansion, and Louis and Stan were busy getting Louis ready for his new school. The kitchen table was littered with pamphlets on the private, all-boy academy Stan had attended when he was younger, but Louis had always gone to public school and wasn’t so sure about it.

  Remy listened from the other end of the kitchen, making breakfast as Stan explained to Louis all the unique programs the school had.

  “But it’s all boys,” he whined. “And I have to wear a uniform with a tie. What ten-year-old wears a tie?”

  “I think he’s got you there,” Remy added, bringing over a fresh cup of coffee for Stan.

  “Thanks,” he said, his hand snaking out to run along her leg, out of sight of Louis.

  Her eyes fluttered closed before she caught herself and coughed. “You’re welcome. Louis? Bacon or sausage this morning?” she asked, hating how the words came out much higher-pitched than normal.

  “Bacon,” Louis replied as if it was obvious, and Stan shot him a look. “Please, Remy?”

  “That’s better,” she said and pulled the bacon out the fridge.

  “Look, there’s an archery program and a boating program,” Stan pointed out, and Remy heard the shuffling of more papers.

  “Boating? Really?”

  “Yep. I think you’ll really like this school. The teachers are amazing, the class sizes are small, and you’re not stuck in the same room all day long,” he added. “It’s the perfect school for an adventurer such as yourself.”

  Remy grinned, listening to them talk and sounding more and more like father and son than the two reluctant people who had been thrown together in a house. Theresa was blown away by their progress after her latest visit and had asked if Stan reconsidered talking to the therapist. Remy explained she had yet to bring it up again, but wasn’t sure if they needed it. Of course, she spoke too soon. Later that same night, she went to Stan’s workshop to check on him and came in at the tail end of him raging at something, slamming his hand down on the worktable and sending his tools tumbling to the floor around him. She helped him pick them up as he snapped at her that he could take care of it.

  “Yes, I can see that,” she snapped right back, tossing the tools on the table.

  “You don’t understand,” he replied, sitting down hard in his chair, rubbing his forehead hard as if to chase away whatever still haunted him.

  “You’re damn right I don’t, and you know why? Because you refuse to tell me anything!”

  “Like you tell me everything,” he muttered bitterly. “I know you’re still hiding shit, so don’t sit there all high and mighty, and act like I’m the only one in this relationship who’s keeping secrets!”

  She had thrown her hands up in the air as she yelled in aggravation and slammed the workshop door shut behind her. Louis was in bed for the night, so she went to her studio, turned on some music by Two Steps from Hell, picked up a brush, paint, fresh canvas, and painted her anger onto that blank white space. She had no idea how much time had passed before the studio door opened and Stan rolled inside. She ignored him, running her brush frantically over the painting, unfocused on what she’d created until Stan’s hand grabbed hers gently, pausing her in her work.

  “Remy,” he whispered, and she scowled at him, but his eyes were locked on the canvas in front of her.

  Covered in paint and panting from her exertion, she turned to take in her latest piece and gasped. The painting was of two people clutched in each other’s arms, embracing in a kiss. Rain fell around their bodies surrounded by dead flowers and new buds springing to life around them. They were clearly naked, and Remy dropped the brush in shock when she realized she’d essentially painted what she wanted for her and Stan.

  “I…I wasn’t even paying attention,” she’d told him.

  “At least if I ever don’t know what you’re upset about I can come in here,” he mused. “It’s beautiful. Is this what you want?”

  “I do, but I’m scared,” she whispered.

  He drew her into his lap and hugged her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. “To be fair, I am too. I’m sorry for not being able to tell you everything yet.”

  “Same,” she replied, leaning back into his arms. “You know, I think you should keep this one.”

  “Yeah? Where would you want me to keep it?”

  “Your bedroom… just a thought.”

  He turned her to face him and the kiss warmed her to her toes. They’d stayed in her studio for a while, talking quietly and admiring her latest painting. Last night, she almost followed him to bed, but her uncertainty at taking that next step held her back. Stan didn’t push or try to convince her otherwise. He rolled beside her to the bottom of the stairs, kissed the back of her hand, and left it at that.

  “Remy, what do you think?” Louis asked, and Remy jerked away from the counter. “You okay?”

  “Huh? Yeah, sorry, dozed off for a second,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist and trying to ignore the knowing look from Stan.

  “What do you think? This private school or public?” Louis asked.

  She shuffled through the brochures. “Well, I went to public all my life, and we never had any of these programs. I think you should listen to Stan.”

  Louis plopped his chin on his hands, clearly terrified, and stared down at the brochures.

  “How about I make you a deal?” Stan offered. “You start at the private school, give it until their fall break, and if you hate it—if you absolutely can’t stand it—we’ll enroll you in public school, and I’ll never make you go back to private again. Deal?” he asked, holding out his hand to Louis.

  Louis smiled brightly and took it. “Deal!”

  “Good. Now, you are stuck with Remy all day, I’m afraid,” he said, rolling back from the table, and Remy noticed he wore a suit.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he smirked at the disappointment in her voice.

  “My dad really needs me to be at the office for a meeting today.”

  “My grandpa?” Louis asked, perking up.

  Stan blinked a few times then nodded. “Yeah, your grandfather. Would you… would you like to meet your grandparents soon? And your aunts and uncles?”

  Louis played with a brochure for a minute, and Remy held her breath, wondering if he would get upset again. “Yeah. Do you think they’ll want to meet me?”

  “Definitely, kiddo. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

  Louis hopped out of the chair and rushed to Stan, hugging him tightly for a second before darting off upstairs.

  “Where are you going?” Remy called after him. “Breakfast, remember!”

  “I know! But I want to give Stan something for his office!”

  Remy shrugged her shoulders when Stan looked to her for an answer. “No idea.” She went back to cooking breakfast, pulling the bacon and eggs from the burner as Louis sprinted back down the steps. He held something small in his hands, and Remy peered down the hall, trying to see what it was. Louis gave him another hug and then ran into the kitchen. Remy made him a plate and went to see Stan off.

  “What did he give you?” she asked.

  “A tiny ship he painted himself. He said he might have borrowed some materials from your studio. I hope you don’t mind.” He held up the small bit of scrap canvas with a little ship painted in the center.

  “It looks like you have a tiny artist in the house,” she said. “That’s really good,
actually.”

  “Now I have something to decorate my boring desk at work.” He tucked it carefully into his pocket. “Too bad I can’t take the other canvas with me to work, too.”

  Her cheeks hot and her body screaming to fall into his lap as she had last night, Remy forced herself to take a step backwards. “You have to get to work, buddy boy.”

  “Sadly, I do. You sure you’ll be okay alone all day?”

  “We’ll be fine, Dad,” she said and rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Go on, get outta here.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it, a promise in his eyes, before he went to the front door. A car waited for him out front, and Remy closed the front door behind him, pressing her back to it and wondering how much longer she could hold out before he charmed his way right into her heart and she found herself in his bed.

  She spent the rest of the morning helping Louis decide what activities he might want to do and found the shopping list Stan had set aside. “Why don’t we go ahead and knock this out?” she said. “I’m not sure I feel like being cooped up all day.”

  “Can we get some ice cream on the way home?”

  She texted Stan to let him know what they were up to, and he gave her the green light. “Stan said go for it. Right, shopping!”

  He groaned as they walked to the cab parked out front of the house. “What is it with women and shopping?” he muttered.

  The cab driver, an older man with a knit cap, barked a laugh. “Kid, you’ll be asking that for the rest of your life. Best case scenario, accept it and move on.”

  “He has a point,” Remy added.

  The shopping list wasn’t difficult though it was long, and after they were halfway through, she could tell Louis was done. They stopped at an old-fashioned diner on the way home and grabbed lunch and milkshakes to enjoy at the house. Louis took a liking to the yard as she hoped he would, and they were talking about plans for a treehouse by the time they finished their burgers and fries and dug into their milkshakes. She drew out a bag she’d kept hidden from Louis the whole trip and handed it to him, laughing at his milkshake mustache.