by Whitley Cox
Saved by the Single Dad
Single Dads of Seattle, Book 3
Whitley Cox
Copyright © 2019 by Whitley Cox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
ISBN: 978-1-989081-20-4
Contents
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Living with the Single Dad - Sneak Peek
If You’ve Enjoyed This Book
Acknowledgments
Also by Whitley Cox
About the Author
You can also find me here
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For Author Jeanne St. James. A friend, a mentor,
a sounding-board, my alpha-reader,
and a fucking phenomenal writer. You are an inspiration
and I am so thankful to have you in my life.
xoxo
About the Book
Loving yourself is the first step on the road to healing.
Welcome to Seattle, the Emerald City and home to The Single Dads of Seattle. Ten sexy single fathers who play poker every Saturday night, have each other's backs, love their children without quarter, and hope to one day find love again.
This is Mitch's story ...
Single dad of Seattle, Mitch Benson can't move, can't blink, can't think, let alone do his job and photograph the woman on stage. Every fiber of his body wakes up when Paige McPherson starts to dance. She pours out her heart, bares her grief and pain for the world to see--the same grief and pain that has ruled his every waking moment since his wife passed and left him to raise their daughter alone. Paige is dancing his truth, and in that moment, Mitch knows his life is going to change.
Paige never thought she'd notice a man again, but there's no ignoring Mitch--or the message in the photographs he takes. Learning to dance has reignited her passion for life and shattered the protective shell she's built around her heart. That's not good--no matter what anyone else says, it's her fault she lost her son, and while she's on the healing path, it's a long journey and one she's determined to take alone.
Mitch knows Paige thinks she doesn't deserve a second chance at love, but he can't bear to back away from the one woman who makes him feel alive again. He's willing to fight for their future, whatever it takes.
Paige can't deny her attraction for Mitch, but moving forward means betraying her past. Now she's faced with a new dilemma--quit her job as the head pastry chef at a very prestigious Seattle restaurant and strike off on her own, or stay working for the boss from hell. Paige isn't sure she's ready for all the changes. Can the single dad save her in time? Or will grief and indecision swallow her whole?
1
Mitch Benson’s jaw dropped open, and his balls tightened in his shorts. The woman dancing on stage was one of the most spectacular things he’d ever seen.
He was supposed to be taking pictures of the performers, but at the moment, he was stunned. Paralyzed by the vision on stage.
Not only was she fucking stunning, with dark, chestnut hair piled up high on her head in a ballerina bun, but the way she danced was incredible. Every emotion she felt came through in the way she moved. The focus on her face and the raw feelings in the way her body reacted to the rhythm and tempo of the music were unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She was perfection.
He thought the dance following the children’s performance was supposed to be the adult contemporary group, but when she stepped out nibbling on her bottom lip and with apprehension in her light brown eyes, he was struck dumb. He hadn’t taken a single photo.
She’d been introduced as Paige McPherson, a beginner adult dancer in Violet’s contemporary adult class. She must have danced Wednesday nights when he was home with Jayda, otherwise Mitch would remember meeting her. He’d remember meeting Paige.
Paige.
Paige?
Paige!
Holy shit!
This was Adam’s wife.
Ex-wife, he corrected.
This was Adam’s ex-wife. Mira’s mother.
Holy fuck.
The clearing of a throat behind him brought him out of his stupor.
“Shouldn’t your camera be making more clicking sounds?” It was Zak, Adam’s brother and one of the fellow Single Dads of Seattle Mitch played poker with every Saturday night.
Mitch swallowed, nodded and focused his gaze back on the screen of his camera. His finger pressed down on the button, and he began to snap shots of the woman on stage.
“She’s beautiful,” Zak said matter-of-factly. “Adam filled you in on their split?”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah. Sad.”
“Yeah, it was. You can tell that she’s pouring all of her pain into her dancing. Just look at her face, her movements. They’re so precise, so driven, so focused.”
Mitch’s finger paused on the button, and he turned to face the big, beefed-up, tattooed, redheaded man, who stood at least three inches taller than Mitch’s six-two frame. “You, uh … you interested in her?”
Zak shook his head but didn’t smile. He also didn’t look down at Mitch. His blue eyes, the same shade as Adam’s, remained focused on Paige. “No. Not interested in anyone. Sworn off love for a bit. Sworn off women.”
Mitch’s shoulders relaxed. Why had they been tense? “Taking a page out of Liam’s book? Love is for suckers?”
Zak shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Something like that, maybe. Just taking a breather.” Finally, he dropped his gaze down to Mitch. The intensity of his stare was unnerving. “Adam can’t say this because Paige is his ex-wife and it would come across as possessive. Plus, what he and Violet have right now is good, and I know he wouldn’t want to fuck that up. But I can say it.”
Say what?
Zak’s mouth crooked up into a lopsided grin. “I’ve been watching you for the past several minutes. Your reaction to Paige on stage is visceral. You’re attracted to her.”
Mitch shrugged, hoping his demeanor came across as cavalier. “She’s beautiful, not going to deny that.”
Zak nodded. “That she is. She’s also hurting. She’s in a lot of pain. So just tread lightly if you’re going to pursue her. She deserves to be happy. We all do. But just be careful. She’s been through a lot.”
Mitch’s back straightened, and he stood up to his full height, squaring off with the big muscly man. “We all have. I lost my wife. I lost my father. My daughter lost her mother. I don’t need a lecture or a warning. If anybody knows to tread lightly, it’s me. I’m allowed to think someone is attractive, be attracted to them without immediately asking them for a date or jumping into bed with them. I’m a grown-ass man, not a fucking teenager. I have some fucking self-control.”
Oh fuck.
&nb
sp; The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
He could just hear the words of Melissa, his late wife, echoing in his brain. She loved Shakespeare. Loved quoting it and reading it. She’d dragged him to many a play in their years together, swooning over the costumes and sonnets. She came by it honestly though. She was an English lit major and had only just started teaching at the University of Arizona when they met.
God, how he missed her.
Zak’s dark red hair glinted like a brick-colored helmet in the warm July sun. They were all in Magnolia Park, celebrating the Fourth of July by enjoying the Arts Council of Seattle’s Art in the Park. Jayda, Mitch’s six-year-old daughter, had just performed on stage with her dance class, and before that, Mitch’s sister Violet and her boyfriend, Adam, Zak’s brother, had performed. All of The Single Dads of Seattle were sitting on the grass with their children, enjoying beer, food and the afternoon sun. This was what summers were made of. Friends, food and festivities.
The two men simply stood there, staring at each other. But finally, something passed behind Zak’s blue eyes, and his face split into a grin. He reached out and slapped Mitch on the back. “All right then. Good chat.” He nodded at Mitch’s camera. “Best get back to work there, camera jockey, before your muse runs off stage.” Then he spun around on his heel and sauntered his big frame back to the cluster of blankets and single fathers and children, all while earning more than a few ogles from female admirers.
Mitch fought the urge to flip him the bird and instead turned back to his camera and the captivating woman on stage. He started snapping photos again, the camera—and Mitch—loving the way Paige’s body gracefully moved about the floor. She used her hands and arms in a way he’d never seen before, at least not in contemporary dancing or in North America. It was reminiscent of his time spent in Bali, photographing the Balinese dancers, decked out in heavy makeup, gold and tapestry. Where had she learned to dance like that?
He couldn’t remember Violet ever doing such moves, and he’d been watching his sister dance for years.
Paige leapt across the floor and fell to her knees. She was close to where Mitch stood down on the grass near the edge of the stage. Her head popped up, and they came face to face. She stared into his eyes, into his soul. He knew he should smile, encourage her to dance, let her know he enjoyed her performance, but he couldn’t.
He was stunned.
Stunned by the lone tear that slipped down her cheek and the pained expression on her face. She really was dancing with every emotion right out on the surface for all to see.
As if acting of its own volition, his finger pressed down on the button, and he took a picture. That must have snapped her out of whatever moment she’d been having, because her eyes left his and dropped down to his camera. Mitch followed her gaze, then glanced back up at Paige, but she was gone—standing at the front of the stage, bowing to the roar of applause from the audience. Mitch let the camera swing down around his neck and began to clap as well.
Paige McPherson ran off stage to the thunderous applause from the city of Seattle. Her heart pounded just as loud as the crowd. She couldn’t believe it. She’d danced in front of hundreds of people on stage all by herself.
And it felt good.
A warm arm draped around her shoulder, and she could smell her ex-husband Adam’s cologne. “Great job, Paige! We knew you could do it.”
Violet, Adam’s new girlfriend and Paige’s dance instructor, stood next to Adam and was all smiles. “Thank you so much for going on. You danced beautifully.” She wiped away a tear from beneath her eye and laughed. “See, I told you your dancing brings people to tears. Your solo was inspiring.”
Paige’s face got hot, and she quickly averted her gaze down to her feet. “I messed up at the end there. When I was supposed to slide down on to my back, I missed a few beats.” She didn’t want to add that she’d missed a few beats because she’d been stunned by the man standing at the edge of the stage with the camera. The man with piercing green eyes, the same color as cedar boughs, with dark hair, a close-shaved beard and full lips. Very full lips.
When she’d lifted her head at the corner of the stage and come face-to-face with him, she’d forgotten what she was doing. Forgotten about the crowd, about the music and her dancing, and instead got lost in the way the lighter yellowy-green around the center of his eyes seemed to swirl in the sunlight.
She was about to open her mouth and excuse herself, go find Mira and her parents, when the man with the camera, the man with the eyes, the man with the lips, appeared around the corner.
He seemed to laser right in on her and walked directly up to where Paige stood with Adam and Violet. He stuck his hand out, waiting for her to take it. “Mitch Benson. Your dance was amazing.”
Mitch Benson.
Violet’s … ?
“This is my brother,” Violet confirmed, having obviously noticed the confusion on Paige’s face. “He’s a professional photographer.”
Paige took his hand with a careful curiosity. It was warm and big, and even though she hadn’t been overly keen on shaking his hand, now she didn’t want to let it go.
His smile was wide and genuine, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth. And those lips. Good God, those lips. Full and totally kissable. Yum.
“Nice to meet you,” she finally said, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat and having to look up a fair bit to reach his eyes. The man was tall. Taller than Adam, and Adam was over six feet.
“Likewise.” He pulled his hand back and winked. “I took some pretty great shots of your dancing. I’ll let you know when I’ve edited them so you can take a look for yourself. Let me know if you want any printed, and I can mail them to you.”
Insecurity dug her fire-engine-red harpy talons into the back of Paige’s neck, and she felt her shoulders slump where she stood. “I don’t think I’d like to see any pictures of myself dancing. I wasn’t that good.”
Was that confusion that flashed behind Mitch’s eyes? Either way, they darkened, and his smile dropped. “You were incredible. Don’t sell yourself short. Take the compliment. You’ll be getting a hell of a lot more of them when you head down to the blankets to go sit with the girls.”
Paige needed to get away from him. She couldn’t handle the praise. She couldn’t handle the pressure that someone thought she was good at something. Couldn’t handle the pressure of living up to their warped idea of her, that she wasn’t a complete and utter failure.
Taking a step back, she pulled out of Adam’s arm and away from Mitch and his scrutinizing stare. “I’m going to go find Mira.”
Mitch’s smile was back. “I’ll come with you. I’m headed that way to find Jayda anyway. We’ll walk together.”
“No.”
Adam, Violet and Mitch all shared confused looks with one another.
The palpitations in Paige’s heart made her chest ache, and the pulse pumping in her ears was deafening. “Wh-what I mean is … I have to go to the bathroom first and get changed. I’m sweaty and gross in all this Lycra. Then I’ll go find Mira. No need for you to wait for me. Go. Go on your own, and I’ll catch up.” She didn’t wait for them to offer to hold up for her or to say they’d follow her to the bathroom. She just sprinted down the metal grate stairs at the back of the stage and turned the nearest corner. Took the quickest exit away from Mitch Benson and his full lips, his compliments and the fact that she wanted his hand back in hers. She wanted his hand all over her body.
2
Tuesday afternoon, Paige walked into work. Like every Tuesday, she worked from two in the afternoon until nine o’clock at night at the very popular Narcissus restaurant, not far from the Space Needle. She’d been at the restaurant for almost eight years and had worked her way up from line cook to head pastry chef.
Classically trained at one of the most prestigious culinary schools in France, Paige was just an up-and-coming chef when she’d met Adam. They dated, fell in love and then got married. He’d been a grad stu
dent at the time, so they lived modestly, scrimping and saving where they could. Her dream had always been to open up her own restaurant—The Lilac and Lavender Bistro—because they had always been her favorite flowers and she thought it was not only a hip but also chic-sounding name. Hipsters could abbreviate it to the LLB or something kitschy like that.
When Adam graduated, they made plans to start socking money away for her restaurant.
Only life had other plans, and now, five years later, there she was, still at Narcissus. Still working for someone else. Still not her own boss.
“How’s it going?” Jane, her apprentice and a pastry chef student, asked as Paige tied her apron around her waist and washed her hands in the big stainless-steel industrial-size kitchen sink.
Paige dried her hands with a paper towel. “It’s okay. Where’s Tristan? I didn’t see his car out front.” It was not at all like the manager of the restaurant to not be at work by two in the afternoon. Sometimes the staff swore the man lived in his office upstairs, he was there so much.
Jane’s mouth dipped into a frown. “You haven’t heard? Did you not get my message?”
Paige shook her head. “Heard what? What message?” What the heck was going on?
