Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  As I try to wipe it back out, Elliott sits on the couch adjacent to me, a cup of hot coffee in her hands.

  “I guess we weren’t as stealth as we thought,” she remarks calmly.

  “Apparently not.”

  “What do you suggest we do now?”

  I look at Elliott, with her bedhead and cute fluffy pajamas. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel like I’m special. Like there’s more to me than being a meathead. Last night was more than sex for me. It was about my feelings for her. For us. For what we could be. And call me selfish, but I don’t want to let it go just because my daughter misses her mother. A mother who isn’t coming back. But how the hell do I make an eight-year-old accept the fact her dad isn’t going to be single forever? First things first, though, we need to make sure there’s no more surprises about this situation.

  “I think maybe you need to get Ainsley up to speed before Mabel spills the beans.”

  Elliott nods her head. The movement is subtle, but it’s there, and I know what she’s thinking: things are about to get a whole lot more complicated.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ELLIOTT

  The rest of the weekend is spent with a lot of tense moments and rolled eyes. Mabel’s, not mine. However, I did think about reacting with equal immaturity but never followed through. It’s a little less acceptable for the adult to behave that way than the child; not by much though. Or maybe that’s just me and my aversion to this kind of behavior.

  Or maybe my feelings are a little hurt.

  It irks me that Abel never tells Mabel she’s being rude or makes her stop acting like I’m the enemy. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s struggling with his own guilt as a dad, which I understand completely. Don’t we all have some sort of internal conflict when one parent leaves our child, no matter what the circumstances? It’s a process. I know that. I just wish his process would hurry up so I could be comfortable in my own home again.

  Er, Abel’s home.

  Whatever. I pay rent. I deserve to sit in the living room and watch TV if I want to and not feel pressured to hide in my room from an elementary-school-aged bully.

  Although, he may have talked to her and I don’t know about it. Lord knows, her behavior hasn’t changed, but we’re not together every second of every day, and that’s not a conversation I necessarily need to be privy to anyway. It would be nice to know it, but I don’t think it’s information I can demand from him at this point in our relationship.

  Thankfully, Ainsley made it home on time, and her return seemed to brighten Mabel’s mood considerably. See what a good mom I am? I’m using my child as a buffer from a pint-sized devil. Awesome work, Elliott.

  But at least the tension eased in the house and Mabel finally brightened up a bit and got some pent-up aggression out on the Wii. After an hour or so of doing summer Olympic sports in the basement, Mabel was much calmer. Dinner ended up being not-horrible, not that I wish we were still sitting around the table. It wasn’t fun either. Just more… neutral. It cemented the understanding that there’s still a lot to work on if Abel and I are going to go the distance. I’m sure this is one of many hurdles we’ll encounter together.

  My next individual hurdle, however, is to have the dreaded conversation with my own child. Now that dinner and baths are over and things are settling down for the night, I have no excuses. Ainsley is ready for bed, I’m about to tuck her in, and it’s about to go down.

  The cat is about to be out of the bag.

  The secret is about to be revealed.

  Okay, now I’m slipping into melodramatic territory myself. I’m not sure what I’m worried about. Ainsley really likes Abel. He does a great job caring for her in the afternoons. They have their own small inside jokes (that he always tells me about later, so I know what the heck is going on) and I trust him with her completely. So, what’s the problem?

  Actually, I know exactly what the problem is. It’s multifaceted. One, I don’t want her to react like Mabel did. I can only handle so many little devils in one house. And two, I don’t want her to give her the impression this makes us a family. None of us are ready for that, despite how odd our circumstances may be.

  Still, I can’t avoid this conversation forever. I can’t even avoid it for another ten minutes. It’s go time.

  Time to put the pedal to the metal.

  Time to put on our running shoes.

  Okay, enough Elliott. This isn’t about you. It’s about Ainsley.

  With that thought in mind, I try to ease my way into this awkward conversation. “Did you have fun with your dad this weekend?” I ask, as she climbs under the covers and slides into her bed.

  Ainsley nods her head, freshly washed hair falling in damp clumps of blond around her face. “Yeah. We ate sushi, and I went to Grammy’s house.”

  “Sounds fun,” I say absent-mindedly as I settle myself in next to her for our nightly talk. “What did you do with Grammy?”

  “We made cookies and watched a movie and took Roscoe for a walk. And then we went to the grocery store and made spaghetti.”

  I furrow my brow. “Wow. You did a lot of stuff.”

  Ainsley snuggles in deeper and pushes her little body against mine. “I spent the night there.”

  My eyebrows rise, but I say nothing. It’s irritating that Derrick passed off his weekend to his mother, especially since I’ve made it clear from the beginning that any time his mother wants to see Ainsley is fine with me. It’s not hard to incorporate my daughter’s extended family into her everyday life.

  But it’s also not my job to force any of them to be adults, so if Derrick wants to share his custody time with his mother instead of doing it the smart way, not my problem.

  “I’m glad you had a good time.” Kissing her on the head and stroking her hair, I add, “I missed you, ya know. Mabel spent the night with her Grammy, too, so it was just me and Abel.”

  A giant yawn comes out of her mouth, and I know I’m running out of time before she falls asleep. “Did you watch a movie with him?”

  No. No movies for us. We were too busy doing other things. I can’t say that though, so I stick with, “No. But I ate a lot of sushi.”

  Ainsley nods and rubs her fingers over her fuzzy blanket like she does every night to fall asleep.

  Okay, Elliott. Now or never. Tell her the truth before Mabel does.

  I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Um, you know how Abel and I work together and help each other around the house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Abel and I… kind of … we sort of…” Why is it so hard to say it out loud to my daughter? “We like each other.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “I mean, we like like each other.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “What do you mean, you know?”

  Ainsley rolls her eyes, no doubt a habit learned from Mabel. “I mean, I know you are Abel are dating.”

  “Wha—?” My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. Of all the ways she could have responded, her already knowing never crossed my mind. “How? Did someone tell you?”

  “I heard you.”

  Her eyes close and she snuggles in tighter still, oblivious to the fact that my blood is running cold as I wonder what exactly she heard. Did she hear us having sex? Wait, she wasn’t here last night and that was the first time we were together. I should be safe. I think.

  Did she hear us kissing? Do kids even know the difference between the sounds? What does she know?

  Okay, Elliott, calm yourself. There’s only one way to find out…

  Pushing myself up on my elbow I decide to get to the bottom of this. “What exactly did you hear?”

  “You and Abel talking.”

  Okay, phew. That’s much better than it could have been. But now I’m really curious.

  “Have you been eavesdropping?”

  Ainsley giggles like she has her own secret. “When you’re in the kitchen, we can hear you in the ba
sement.”

  I wrack my brain, trying to figure out how they can hear us from so far away. Surely, the sound doesn’t carry down the stairs loud enough to be heard over the Wii. But how else would they be able to hear us?

  Ainsley answers my silent question, dispelling all the myths. “There’s a vent thingy above the TV. We can hear you through there."

  Sure enough, I know which vent she’s talking about. I knew these older homes had some weird ventilations systems. I just didn’t know the basement vent was connected so closely to the one in the kitchen. Which brings up a more important question.

  “Are you kidding me, you little sneak? How long have you been listening to our conversations?”

  “Since we moved in.” Ainsley’s little girl giggle makes me laugh too. The idea that she got away with this for so long seems to make her thinks she’s a sharp cookie. I suppose she’s not wrong. Except…

  “Wait… is that how you knew what you were getting for Christmas?”

  This time she belly-laughs as she nods.

  “I knew you weren’t as excited as you should have been for that Hatchimal!” I dig my fingers into her sides, tickling her and making her howl with laughter.

  “I was still excited, Mommy. I didn’t know which one you got me.”

  Dropping onto the bed, I raise my arm over my head to relax. “I can’t believe you’ve been listening to me all along and pretended this whole time.”

  She rolls over, wide awake from the fresh exertion. “I was gonna tell you, but Mabel doesn’t want her daddy to know. She doesn’t want to get in trouble.”

  Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. It also makes more sense why Mabel seems to be getting more and more angry. She’s listening in on conversations that not only should no child hear, but that her little brain isn’t old enough to process anyway.

  “Well, now that I know, I have to tell him. You guys are still children and some adult talk will be too hard for you guys to understand. I want to make sure we talk to you about any important things the right way, okay?”

  “Okay.” Once again, her eyes get heavy, her fingers rub her blanket as she yawns. She’s about to drop into sleep when she suddenly says, “Abel’s nice, Mommy. I’m glad you’re dating him.”

  Caressing her hair, I smile at her, even though she’s already drifted off. I have no idea how I was blessed with such an amazing kid.

  “Me too, baby. Me too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ABEL

  “Come on, Beast! Get it!”

  Joey’s yells reverberate in my ears, but I barely hear them. I don’t feel the sweat sliding down my face or the hear the music pumping through the speakers.

  The only thing I see is the spot on the wall I’m staring at as I concentrate.

  The only thing I hear is the sound of my heart beating as I strain.

  The only thing I feel is the tension in my quads as I slowly squat, lowering myself and an additional four hundred eighty-six pounds to the floor. Just a little lower…

  …a little more….

  … a few more inches…

  “Go Beast! Push!”

  That’s all I need to hear to know my form is bang on and I’ve hit my mark. All I have left to do is stand back up.

  My legs are practically quivering. My core is tighter than it’s ever been. It’s grueling, but if I can do it, I’ll have beaten my own personal best.

  “Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhh!” A roar emanates from deep within me, my face probably a dark shade of red as I use all my might to stand. And when my legs are straight again, a smile crosses my face as the crowd around us explodes.

  Joey and Tommy, another trainer we know, each immediately grab a side of the bar and help me rerack the weight. Even with two of them, they’re grunting from the strain, which only makes me feel better about raising the bar on my personal best. It happens to be the gym best as well, but I’m less concerned about that. For me, it’s about smashing my own goals.

  Someone tosses me a towel and a water bottle, while others pat me on the back and congratulate me on my accomplishment. It’s all I can do to get some water in my system while trying to catch my breath.

  “Holy shit, man,” Joey exclaims when the crowd begins to disperse. “That was insane! I can’t believe your legs held out.”

  I shake my head with my own disbelief. “For a second there, I didn’t think they would.” They actually still might not if they keep quivering like this.

  “Nah.” He claps me on the back. “I never doubted you. I can’t wait to see the new plaque on the wall with your picture on it. Maybe they’ll spring for a trophy this time instead.” His eyes widen as he jokes. “Oh! It would look great on the shelf behind the trainer desk.”

  I groan before taking another drink. “The destruction of that stupid plaque was the only good part of that fire.”

  Joey chuckles because he knows I’m right. The last time I beat my personal record, management thought it would be fun to promote it. Something about making sure customers know “one of their own” was a client too, working hard to reach their goals like everyone else.

  Not only did it seem a bit over the top to have the weight I squatted on a shiny plaque, they took the picture right before I sneezed. It looked like I was smelling a fart. And since he who smelt it, dealt it…

  Yeah. I got a lot of shit from Joey about that picture.

  “Make sure you don’t sneeze when they pull the camera out this time.”

  See?

  I shove him with a “Shut up, man.”

  “They’ll give you some notice so you can prepare, right? You can check the pollen count at least. Should I bring you some Claritin?”

  He’d be funny if he wasn’t so obnoxious sometimes.

  “You’re a dick, you know that?” Looking at the clock, I realize I have a few short minutes until school pickup. I could shower here, but I’m still so hot, it’d be pointless. I’d be sweaty again before getting fresh clothes on. My best bet is to get the girls first and shower at home. I need to let Elliott know I’m heading out.

  “Speaking of dick,” Joey continues like I’m not ignoring him and walking away, “has yours gotten any yet?”

  I flash him a disgusted glare over my shoulder as we head to the locker room, me to grab my stuff, him to harass me some more. “You really are a pig, you know that? I get why none of the women here will touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Eh. Their loss.” He shrugs like he really doesn’t care what other people think. I’ve known him long enough to know it’s not an act. If there’s one thing Joey is good at, it’s being confident in his own man-bun. To a fault sometimes. This is one of those times. “I’m not asking for details about your sex life, man. I just wanna know if you’ve finally gotten a piece of ass.”

  Pulling my locker open, I rummage around for my deodorant. The least I can do is cancel out some of the odor before making the girls walk home with me. “I don’t know why you think that’s any business of yours.”

  “It’s not.” He plops down on the bench and leans back to relax. “I just know it’s been a really long time for you, and I wanna make sure you aren’t gonna back up or something.”

  Something about that sentence makes me pause. Did I hear him correctly? “Back up. What are you talking about?”

  “You know…” He gestures towards my crotch, which is a little worrisome. Since when is Joey concerned about my junk? “Like… a clog. Of spooge.”

  “What the hell are you even talking about?”

  He sighs, as if this conversation is paining him. But did I bring my testicles into this little chat? No. No I did not. And now I want to know why he did.

  “Seriously, Joey. Spill. Why are you suddenly worried about my schlong?”

  Unable to look at me, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. “Elliott sent me this article the other day and it has all these statistics on testicular cancer and different kinds of bacteria that can build up inside a
nd kill you.”

  Weird. Why is she sending him medical articles about penises? Is there something going on with him I don’t know about? None of this sounds right to me.

  “One of the things the article says is that in order to protect ourselves, we men need to be ejaculating a minimum of twice a day. Three times is actually ideal.”

  “Wait, what?” I feel like I’m missing a key of very important information, so I let him ramble.

  “Yeah. See?” He holds out his phone for me to read the article he has pulled up. “It got me thinking that this relationship with you two is new, and maybe you were holding back until you got to know each other better since you’ve got all this integrity and whatnot,” he says with a wave of his hand. “But we’re not getting any younger. You need to take care of your testicular health.”

  The more I read, the more I have a suspicion of what’s happening here, and the more I try to hold back my laugh. Finally, though, I cave.

  “Are you saying…?” A belly-laugh bursts out of me, and I can’t stop long enough to finish my sentence. “Does this mean…? Oh, holy hell, I can’t stop laughing…” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind when he’s the one who fell for this whole thing. He just doesn’t know it yet. This is going to be fun. “You’ve been jacking off three times a day for how long?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been about a week since she sent it to me.” That sends me into yet another round of laughter, this time complete with tears running down my face. “It’s not funny, man. Penile health is nothing to laugh at.”

  That does it. I crumple to the floor, unable to stand up straight anymore after my workout followed by this mess.

  Things only get worse, or better, depending on who you ask, when Frank exits the dressing room area, his gym bag in hand.

  Frank is like the resident cool grandpa everyone wants to grow up to be like. With white hair and always dressed to the nines, he looks like the last remaining member of the Rat Pack. He’s classy like that too. And he’s a staple here at the gym, spending much of his time at Tabitha’s smoothie bar chatting up other patrons. He knows almost everyone’s name and is always kind, even when he’s poking fun.