Saved by the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 3)

by Whitley Cox

  And she let him.

  In fact, she clung to him.

  Her fingers bunched in his shirt, and her hot tears trickled down his neck, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that Paige wasn’t going through whatever this was alone. He was able to comfort her, care for her.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she lifted her head, her face a mottled shade of red and her cheeks and lips damp. He wiped the tears away with his thumbs and pushed the stray tendrils of dark curls off her forehead. “Ready to talk?” he asked.

  She took a hard swallow and shut her eyes for a moment, breathing deep. “My new boss. The new owner.”

  “What about him?” Had he made a pass at her? Been inappropriate?

  “Her,” she corrected. “Marcy Thibodeaux. The bully, the mean girl, the absolute worst person I have ever met in my entire life. She made every day at school hell. From kindergarten until my junior year, she tormented me. Teased me. She put ketchup on my seat so when I sat down it looked like I’d leaked through from my period. She nicknamed me Paigey McFatson. She cut my hair with scissors when I sat in front of her in English class. Burned it in the chem lab. She put snakes from the biology department in my locker. It took me going to France for a yearlong exchange my senior year to finally be rid of her. To finally be rid of the harassment and the fear of being the butt of one of her jokes, the victim of one of her horrible pranks.”

  “Holy shit.” Rage replaced all other emotions inside Mitch. How could anyone do such things to another person, let alone someone as sweet as Paige?

  Paige nodded. “But that wasn’t the worst of it.”

  There was worse?

  “I was taking AP calculus in my junior year. Her jock boyfriend needed a tutor, otherwise he’d lose his football scholarship, so the math teacher asked me if I’d tutor Garth. I refused. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him or his girlfriend. I knew better. Not after the hell she’d put me through for so many years. But apparently my math teacher was hard of hearing or simply just a man who refused to take no for an answer, and suddenly there was Garth, on my doorstep.”

  “And Marcy didn’t like that very much, did she?”

  “Nope. Garth was actually a really nice guy. I couldn’t understand why he was with her. I helped him bring his math grade up from a D to a B minus. He was able to keep his scholarship, and his parents were really happy, so they took us out to dinner to celebrate.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  This was like the plot for a fucking angsty teen rom-com. Mitch could almost see the writing on the wall.

  “Marcy found out. She spread a rumor that I carried a gun to school. That I was plotting and planning a shooting spree. She typed up fake plans and a hit list with her name at the top. Stashed it all in my locker.”

  “Holy. Fuck. Was there a gun?”

  She nodded. “It was fake. But she’d managed to get her hands on one and put it in my locker as well. I was arrested and detained.”

  “Your parents didn’t get you a lawyer?”

  “Of course they did. But until the lawyer showed up, and then even after, I was terrified.”

  “What happened?”

  “Garth. He found out what Marcy did and turned everything over to the cops.”

  “And what about Marcy?”

  “Her father is a politician. He greased the right palms, and it was like it never happened.”

  “Did Garth dump her?”

  She nodded. “He did. He actually asked me out shortly after, but I said it would be like signing my own death warrant if I dated him. Marcy was already gunning for me. I didn’t want to throw kerosene on the bonfire by dating her ex-boyfriend. That was the final straw. My parents and I spent every waking moment after that looking into new schools and exchanges. I needed to get away from her; I needed to get away from Seattle. Leave the gossip and gun rumors behind. I stayed in France for several years. I wasn’t ready to come back. I wanted the city to forget about me. I went to culinary school there, worked in a few kitchens for a couple of years before I came home. By the time I returned, no one knew who I was anymore. The stories had died down. I was a nobody, and I liked it that way.”

  “And now this bitch is your boss?”

  She let out a long, slow sigh before nodding. “And now this bitch is my boss.”

  He hadn’t even been aware of it, but he’d been drawing circles on her back. She hadn’t moved away or asked him to stop. So he didn’t. “I’m assuming she’s done something new to upset you, or are these tears just from the memories flooding back of all that she did to you?”

  Paige sniffled. “A bit of both. She called me up to her office to talk about my schedule, and from the very first second, she was just terrible to me. Called me my old nickname, belittled me, demanded I tell her why I needed Wednesday night off.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  She rolled her eyes. “She said she wouldn’t give me it off unless I did.”

  “Fucking bitch.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Are you going to be able to go back in there and work for her? Is this going to work? Do you love this place that much to put up with someone who treats you like that? Who framed you for domestic terrorism?”

  Paige used the collar of her black chef’s coat to wipe up a few remaining tears. “I don’t know. I mean, I love my job, but I just can’t see myself working for her for much longer. Not if she continues to torment me like this.”

  She blinked a few times, then looked down. Realization of where she was dawned on her face, and she quickly scrambled back across the center console into her own seat. “What are you doing here?”

  Ah, crap. Their nice moment was gone.

  “I thought I told you I didn’t want to date. I thought you understood and accepted that?”

  Mitch rolled down the windows of his car. It was stifling hot. “I don’t understand why, but I accept it. I came here to ask you if you do catering. Or if Narcissus does catering. I swear to God, my intentions were nothing but platonic.”

  “Oh.” She blinked those big brown eyes of hers, and her mouth made a delicate little O shape. “For what?”

  “I’m opening up my own photography studio. Just signed the lease this afternoon. I want to do a grand opening. Have it catered, hire a bartender, maybe a guy to play the guitar. What do you say?”

  “You want me to cater it? Or you want Narcissus to cater it?”

  He shrugged. “Either-or. If you do catering on your own, I’d rather just pay you. You do more than pastry, right?”

  “I’m a classically trained chef. I just prefer pastry.” He enjoyed the slightly snooty tone to her voice. She was getting the fire back in her belly. Thank God.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “When?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I get the keys on Monday, and then I’ll have a look at the place and see how much work needs to be done. I’m hoping to open by late August. Sooner if I can. I’m just tired of working in the kitchen at home. I miss having a proper studio and a collection of my work on the walls for customers to come in and see.”

  She pouted, and her nose scrunched in such a cute way, all he could think about was kissing the tip of it. “I’ll give it some thought. I might be off work then, so … ”

  “Off work for what?”

  Her brows narrowed, and her lips flattened.

  Oh shit.

  “It’s personal,” she snapped.

  Mitch held up his hands. He seemed to do a lot of that with her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  She blinked a few times, her look of irritation seeming to fade each time she batted her damp lashes. “I’m just tense. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m sorry. Just this whole Marcy Thibodeaux thing has me losing my mind.” She smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Oh, sorry, Marcelle Thibodeaux.”

  He wished he could take her hand and reassure her someway. But he was not getting any of those vibes fr
om her. Instead he just offered her a small smile. “Don’t let her win. You’re strong. This isn’t high school anymore. There’s no more Garth. Yes, she’s your boss, but that restaurant will also be lost without you.”

  The face she made said she didn’t quite believe him but appreciated his attempt. Her hand landed on the door handle. “I should get going. Might wind up with demerits if I’m late. Have to drop and give her twenty or swab the deck or some dumb shit like that.”

  Mitch snorted. “Can you bake a laxative into a pastry you give especially to her?”

  She opened the door, but when she turned back to face him, she was smiling. “If only. I don’t think the woman has touched a carb in twenty years. I’d have to drop the laxative on her iceberg lettuce and pray she ate the whole damn thing.”

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I hate women like that. I love food. So should my woman. We get so few joys in life.”

  She stepped out of the car chuckling. “I couldn’t agree more.” Paige shut the car door but then leaned into the window, leveling her soulful eyes on him. “Thanks, Mitch. You were here when I really needed someone. I was starting to spiral, but you saved me from going down into the well, so thank you.”

  Mitch’s heart constricted inside his chest. “You don’t need saving, Paige. You’re incredibly strong.”

  Her lips pursed, and she fixed him with a look that said she didn’t quite believe him. “Well, thank you all the same.”

  He flashed her a big smile. “Any time, Paige. And I mean that.”

  He watched her walk away, contemplating going back in and ordering a dessert to go and whether or not that would be in poor taste. Much to his regret, he put the car in reverse and headed down the street to the Dairy Queen.

  5

  Saturday night was poker night.

  Mitch had been looking forward to it all week.

  He always looked forward to poker. He looked forward to his weekly meeting of the minds with other single dads. He’d only been a member of The Single Dads of Seattle for a few months, but in that short span of time, they’d come to feel like family. He could gripe and moan about the struggles of being a single parent—a single father—and not worry about anyone judging him. There was also another widower in the group, Atlas, and although the two of them hadn’t chatted much, because Atlas didn’t really talk much to anyone, he felt a sort of kinship with the man.

  They were both raising daughters alone after their wives had passed and doing the best they could given the circumstances. He wanted to reach out more to Atlas, but the vibes the man was throwing off said he wasn’t ready to talk yet. Things were still too raw, too fresh.

  Having decided to take an Uber so that he could drink more than just a single beer, Mitch and his mixed summer six-pack of San Camanez walked up to the front door of Liam’s house hand-in-hand shortly after seven o’clock.

  Liam, the founder of The Single Dads of Seattle, was a divorce attorney and apparently a damn good one. He lived on the shore of Lake Washington in a house worth well over seven figures.

  Dare to dream.

  Not bothering to knock, because as Liam said, family doesn’t knock, he turned the doorknob and walked inside. The sound of several men’s voices floated around the corner into the foyer, drawing him toward the dining room, where the card table would be set up.

  The sky outside was still an ugly yellowish-brown from all the wildfire smoke. So with nowhere to escape, the summer heat was trapped in the city, making everyone not only overheated but also struggling to breathe from all the smoke.

  He’d kept Jayda indoors most of the day because the air quality warning had been disconcerting. The app on his phone said breathing the air outside for an hour was equivalent to smoking six cigarettes.

  Yeah, no way was he subjecting his child’s precious little lungs to that.

  Thankfully, though, Adam had brought Mira over, and the two girls played for hours. Mitch had managed to get a fair bit of work done, all the while flipping back to photos of Paige and letting those light brown eyes of hers bore directly into his soul.

  How on earth she could work for a woman like Marcy was beyond him. That woman needed to be put in her place. She needed to be put away.

  “Yo!” A slap on his back brought Mitch out of his thoughts of Paige. He craned his neck around to find Zak, Adam’s brother, grinning from ear to ear behind him. “How goes it?” Zak had a lowball of some amber liquid with a cube of ice in his hand. He tipped it up and drained it, crunching on the ice.

  “Pretty good.” Mitch continued into the kitchen and put five of his six beers away. He popped the cap on the one in his hand and took a long swig, letting the cool brew slide down his throat and into his stomach, instantly cooling his whole body. Liam had the air-conditioning running, but even that was no match for the sauna that was Seattle.

  “This heat, huh?” Zak said, shaking his head as he wandered toward the leather-top bar in the corner of the dining room to pour himself another drink. “I can’t imagine what they’re dealing with in California if it’s this bad up here. Kept the kiddos indoors today.”

  Mitch nodded. “Me too. Adam brought Mira over, and she and Jayda just played in her room all day. I feel bad keeping them inside during the summer, given how fucking rainy Seattle is the rest of the year, but I just can’t send them out with the air like that.”

  “I hear ya. The gyms have been packed. Nobody is running or walking outside, so they’re all heading indoors to get their sweat on. Been good for business. Loads of new members, but it’s also been a bit nutty. We don’t usually see these kinds of numbers or new signups until the rainy season hits. Had to call in more staff.”

  “I know!” came the voice of Liam. He swirled what was of course scotch around in his crystal glass. “I was there last night, and it took forever to get on the fucking treadmill. You need more of them.”

  Zak rolled his eyes. “I’ll get right on that, oh wise one who gets a free membership.”

  Liam snickered as he moved into the kitchen, grabbed a few bowls of potato chips and pretzels, brought them back out to the dining room and set them on the table.

  Adam was already there. He, Mark and Emmett were sitting at the table, watching Atlas shuffle the cards like he was some blackjack dealer at the Mirage in Vegas.

  “Where’s Scott?” Mitch asked, wandering over to the table and taking a seat next to Emmett.

  Liam joined them all around the table after refilling his glass. “He took Freddie down to San Diego for the week.” Scott was Liam’s younger brother, but unlike Liam, who was a high-powered attorney at one of the busiest law firms in the city, Scott was in advertising. Both had smart mouths, though, which often landed them in hot water with their exes.

  “We playing cards?” Atlas asked with a grunt, shuffling the cards once more. His dark gray eyes held frustration. His light blond brows furrowed, creating a deep crease between them as the men around the table continued to banter, ignoring the cards in front of them. Mitch would put Atlas in his early forties, older than the rest of them. His daughter Aria was four and a sweet little thing.

  Jayda and Mira had taken to her right away the first time they met her, and the girls played together beautifully. Come to think of it, all the children played well together: Emmett’s daughter, JoJo; Scott’s son, Freddie; Liam’s son, Jordie; Mark’s son Gabe; Zak’s kids Tia and Aiden. Not that they got all the kids together that often, but when they did, Mitch hadn’t heard a squabble among them.

  He gave himself and all the other dads at the table a mental pat on the back. They were all raising good kids. They were all good at raising kids. Fuck this shit that dads could only have the kids on the weekends. Mitch had no choice but to be a full-time father, and in his opinion, he wasn’t fucking up too badly at all.

  Atlas impatiently drummed his fingers on the green felt card table. “I got shit to do at home.”

  Liam shot Atlas a look. “Cool the fuck down.”

  Atlas grunte
d and began to deal out the cards.

  Liam and Atlas worked together at the law firm, so unlike the rest of the guys, who were still a bit unsure of Atlas and how to act around him, Liam was no-holds-barred and couldn’t give two shits about how he spoke to the man. Thankfully, though, Atlas was used to Liam’s sharp tongue and rarely reacted with more than a grunt or shoulder lift.

  “How’re things going with Mitch’s sister?” Liam asked, turning his attention to Adam not thirty seconds later. The glimmer in his brown eyes said he was hoping his comment would stir the pot.

  Adam lifted his shoulder, though it would be hard for anyone to miss the smile he was trying to hide. “All is well. Violet’s amazing.”

  Liam snorted. “Not that you could say anything different with her brother sitting right there.”

  Adam didn’t speak, but his eyes held all kinds of amusement.

  Liam tossed his head back and laughed. “Another one bites the dust.” He elbowed Mitch. “I know she’s your sister, but if Adam asks me for representation for his next divorce, it’s bros before hoes.”

  Mitch shot him a look. “Watch it.”

  Liam chuckled. “I’m just saying, you guys and your women. I keep telling you that love is a fallacy … ” He faced Zak. “But do you think they’ll listen?”

  Zak scrubbed a big palm over his rust-colored beard and made a face like he didn’t completely agree. “It’s called hope, you jackass. And unlike you … and me, who are jaded as fuck from women who ripped out our hearts and tried to take our children, these dumb fuckers still have a bit of hope left inside them. Don’t you think the world needs more of that?”

  Liam scoffed before taking a sip of his scotch. “I don’t need love. All my love goes to Jordie. Richelle gets the D when she wants it, but that’s all she gets, and she’s completely content with that. So am I.”