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

by Whitley Cox

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

  “I wish you could see yourself the way others see you. The way I see you. How beautiful you are, inside and out. Your strength, your heart. Those are more powerful than you realize.”

  She blinked spiked lashes and watery eyes at him.

  He never broke her gaze.

  He needed her to know that what he said he meant with every fiber of his being, with every cell in his body. She was so much stronger than she believed. She needed to learn to believe in herself again. She needed to learn to love herself again.

  Their faces were just inches apart, and a warm shot of her breath hit his lips.

  He took her mouth.

  She didn’t push him away, didn’t balk or protest.

  Instead she welcomed him. He released her face and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her body against his, cradling her delicate frame in his arms. She melted into him, letting her arms float up and wrap around his neck, pulling him down to her almost in desperation.

  Her lips were soft, and she tasted like sparkling wine as he swept his tongue inside. A moan rose up from the back of her throat. He deepened the kiss, his hands roaming up her back and into the wild curls on the top of her head. He pulled the hair elastic free and threaded his fingers into the dark, tight waves. His blood began to race south and pool between his legs. Undoubtedly, she could probably feel it against her lower belly.

  She pushed her hips against his.

  Oh yeah, she felt it.

  He also knew he wasn’t ready to take it any further than a kiss.

  For one, he didn’t have any condoms on him.

  Two, just last week, Paige had wanted nothing to do with him. If he wanted things between them to be real, which he did, they needed to take things slow.

  He’d promised himself that they would go at Paige’s speed, and he intended to keep that promise, no matter how much his balls protested otherwise.

  And three, he knew he was ready to pursue something with Paige, but he also hadn’t dated in years. How did people do it anymore? How did thirty-somethings date? Did people date? Or was it like his mother said, people just jumped into bed with one another and figured out the rest later? There was no wooing, no courting, no getting to know the person before you stripped down in front of them and showed them all your freckles.

  He wanted to woo Paige. He wanted to court her and date her and find out exactly what made her tick. They’d both been through a hell of a lot in the last couple of years, and she deserved respect for all that she’d overcome.

  He broke the kiss but held her against him. Both of their chests heaved, and warm puffs of air from her mouth hit his face.

  “We’re taking this slow, baby,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I really like you, and I don’t want to push. Don’t want to rush things.”

  He heard her swallow and felt her nod. His fingers were still threaded in her hair, his palm against the back of her head.

  “I like you too,” she whispered.

  Mitch’s heart skipped a beat, and his smile hurt his face. He pulled her away just enough so he could look into her eyes. “Well, that’s just about the best news I’ve heard all day. Possibly all year.”

  She worried her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m okay taking it slow … but … ”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Hmm?”

  “Can we do that again? I forgot how much I love just kissing.”

  Mitch groaned, and his cock lurched against her thigh in protest. “Baby, we can kiss all night if you want to.” Then he dipped his head and took her mouth again, reveling in her little moans and whimpers as she fit perfectly into his arms.

  As if she were meant to be there all along.

  9

  Thursday morning, Paige practically floated into her parents’ kitchen. “Good morning!” she sang, sidling up to the counter next to her father and pouring herself a cup of coffee. She hugged the mug against her chest with both hands and let the steam drift up her nostrils.

  Both her parents stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

  “Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” her mother said, standing over a compost bucket, shelling peas from their garden. “What’s got you in such a wonderful mood?”

  Her father, who was nearly a foot taller than her, wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We love seeing you like this, angel. We really do. It’s like we have our old Paige back.” He planted a kiss to the side of her head. “I take it you’re over being fired from Narcissus then?”

  Paige grinned before taking a cautious sip of her coffee. “I am so over it. I have big plans. Hardly slept a wink last night thinking about it all.”

  Her dad took a seat at the kitchen table, then pushed out another seat for her. She sat down. Her mother joined them, bringing over the big bowl of peas and the compost. Soon they were all sitting around the table, like they had so many times before, shelling peas and solving all the world’s problems.

  The Three Musketeers.

  “So, spill,” her mother said, wiping a loose lock of salt-and-pepper hair off her forehead.

  Paige leaned forward and tucked the stray curl behind her mother’s ear so she wasn’t constantly battling with it. “I’ve decided to open up my own restaurant. I’ve always wanted to, you guys know that. I have all these recipes that I’ve been dreaming about just stored in my head, or in my notebook, and I was never really able to try them at Narcissus.”

  “You’re always welcome to try them here at home, honey,” her mother offered. “We love when you cook for us.”

  “Especially your experiments,” her father offered, his copper-brown eyes twinkling. “I still dream about that duck in the raspberry sauce you made. Brag about it to all my golf buddies.”

  “Thanks, Dad. But I want to be my own boss. I was only given so much freedom at Narcissus, and only with desserts. I want complete control over the menu. I want every recipe to be mine and to be able to change it whenever I see fit. Daily, weekly, seasonally. Whenever I want. I also want to move out. Get my own place. A place for Mira and I, where she has her own room and I have my independence.”

  Her parents stopped shelling peas and looked at her.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve both done for me these past couple of years, but I’m in a better place now. It’s time to move forward. It’s time to be a grown-up again.”

  “You think you’re ready?” her mother asked with concern in her blue eyes.

  Paige nodded. “I think so. I want to talk to Adam about getting more time with Mira. Changing the custody agreement. I’m in a good place. The dancing has helped, and now that I’m going to be my own boss, set my own hours, I think that’s going to help too. I’m taking back control.”

  Her parents nodded slowly but exchanged wary looks with each other across the table.

  “I’m not moving out tomorrow,” she said impatiently. “I’ll have to find a place first. But I’d like to be on my own by the end of the year.”

  Relief passed across both their faces.

  “That’s a good goal, honey,” her father said, resuming his task with the peas. “Let us know if we can do anything to help.”

  Paige sucked on her bottom lip for a second before answering. “Actually, there is.”

  Without missing a beat, both her parents said, “Anything.”

  “I need a loan.”

  “How much?” her father asked, still remaining unfazed.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  He shrugged as if she’d asked him to spot her a fiver and not write her a check for tens of thousands of dollars. “Okay, well, let me know.”

  Paige hid her smile behind her coffee mug as she took another sip. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Her parents simply smiled.

  Despite her rough go at school with Marcy Thibodeaux, Paige had had a wonderful childhood. An only child, she and her parents were more
like best friends than anything else. They treated her like an adult from very early on, encouraging independence, honesty and including her in the big family discussions. In most ways, they treated her like an equal.

  They were her rocks. The people she knew she could always count on, no matter what.

  Both her mother and father had been very successful in their fields, although they had retired shortly after Mira was born to focus on their grandchild. Her father had been a very successful property developer and her mother a cardiac surgeon.

  They’d had Paige in their mid- to late thirties, both being established in their careers and living in the home they were in now, in the very upscale Laurelhurst suburb of Seattle.

  As a family, they traveled a lot, which had sparked Paige’s interest to study abroad for her final year of high school. That and the fact that Marcy was a psychopath and Paige had finally had enough of her torment.

  Even though they missed their daughter, Frank and Nancy encouraged her to spread her wings and head to France on the yearlong exchange. They visited her every few months while she was there, becoming quite close with her host family. They even tagged along when Paige and her host family went skiing in Switzerland for Christmas break, all of them sharing a chalet together and laughing around the table at dinner.

  Her parents still remained close with the Marchands and went on annual vacations with them.

  It was also the Marchands, particularly Madame Marchand, who had fostered and nurtured Paige’s love of cooking and baking. A professional baker herself, with over twenty years of experience, Genevieve Marchand was the mentor Paige never knew she needed. She taught Paige everything she knew about pastry and encouraged her to apply to Le Cordon Bleu in France. Paige did and she was accepted, working under such greats as Lucien LaCroix and Francesca Olivier.

  She stayed with the Marchands—who had no children of their own and pretty much adopted Paige as their own surrogate child—for several years, going to school and then working in various restaurants in France.

  The whole time she was gone, living abroad and mastering her craft, Paige’s parents had her back. She knew she always had a home in Seattle to come back to, parents who loved and supported her, but she also had a home and parents in France. She had the best of both worlds and was all the richer for it.

  They’d been sitting in silence for a while, quietly shucking peas and enjoying the pleasant gurgle of the small pond just outside the back door, when Paige’s father spoke up, causing her mother to jump in surprise.

  Paige chuckled. “So jumpy, Mom.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “Your father always does this to me.”

  Frank chuckled before continued on. “Do you have a space for your new restaurant? Or would you like me to get in touch with my Realtor? I’m sure Anton has some great locations he could show you.”

  Paige smiled at her father. “Thanks, Dad, but I found just the place. I called about it this morning, and it’s available. The rent is reasonable, and I’m going to go look at it this afternoon.”

  Her mother’s crystal-blue eyes went wide. “Wow, look at you. Very productive.”

  “I want to set a good example for Mira, make her proud of her mom,” she said, feeling the emotions claw at the back of her throat. She struggled to keep her face calm, even though her body rioted with a tension that made her neck ache with knots.

  A big warm hand landed on hers, pausing her efforts in shelling peas. Her father pressed his hand against hers until her palm landed on the table. “She is proud of you, honey. We all are.”

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “I know, Dad, but I’m not. And I want to be. I want to be proud of myself. I want to do all the things I set out to accomplish, achieve all the goals I made before—” She choked on a sob, unable to go on.

  Her mother’s hand landed on Paige’s other wrist. “And you will. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, sweetheart.”

  A lone, hot tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled through the emotions that made the muscles in her mouth want to dip into a frown. “Thank you. I know I can always count on you guys.”

  They squeezed her hands at the same time.

  “Always, honey,” her mother said, leaning over to kiss the side of Paige’s head. “Always.”

  Having secured the new restaurant space with the Realtor on Friday that week, handing over checks for first and last month’s rent, Paige was feeling good about life once again. The last few days had been a roller coaster of emotions, but at the moment, she was on the crescendo, making her way back to the top. She needed to keep this good mood going.

  She needed to cook.

  She needed to cook for people.

  Sending a mass text to everyone important in her life, she grabbed a pen and pad of paper from her nightstand and began compiling her grocery list and menu.

  Adam had been at his weekly poker night the night before, so she and Mira had a sleepover. The two of them stayed up late, eating popcorn and watching a movie, enjoying some real mother-daughter time. It was a night Paige would never forget, and she hoped Mira wouldn’t either.

  Her little girl was still fast asleep in the bed next to Paige, her dark curls falling over her face and her long lashes feathered over her cheeks as she snored lightly.

  Paige tucked the pen behind her ear and brushed the hair off Mira’s face, marveling at the perfection of the little person beside her.

  Her cheeks held a rosy glow, and her lips were a rich pink and pouty. She really was the most gorgeous thing Paige had ever seen.

  Mira was her masterpiece.

  As Adam had said, they may have botched their marriage, but at least they did one thing right. They’d done one thing perfectly. Mira was perfection.

  Her daughter stirred in her sleep, her face scrunching up tight before relaxing again.

  Paige stifled a chuckle, then turned back to her list.

  She wanted to wow everyone at the table. Make things she’d never made before but had been dreaming about for months.

  Almond-crusted halibut.

  Lemongrass-ginger ceviche.

  Polenta with basil and heirloom tomatoes.

  Her mouth watered and her mind raced as the ideas and recipes flooded her thoughts like a dam breaking.

  “What you doing, Mama?” came a tiny, groggy voice next to her. “You coloring?” Mira sat up and scooched in next to her mother, resting a hand on her thigh, rubbing her eyes with her other hand. “You making a shopping list?”

  “I am, baby. Would you like to come grocery shopping with me?”

  Mira yawned as she nodded. “Yeah, but I need breakfast first. And my vitamins. And I need to get dressed. And I need to do my hair and have a pee. Can we go in like five hours?”

  Paige snorted, running her hand over the back of Mira’s wild bedhead hair. “How about one hour?”

  Her little girl nodded, blinking back the fatigue that still glimmered in her striking blue eyes. “Okay, one hour. Are Grandma and Grandpa awake yet?”

  Paige nodded, jotting down another ingredient for the most ultimate dessert ever. “They’re early risers. Grandpa’s probably been for his run already, and I bet you Grandma has a fresh batch of cinnamon buns on the counter, still warm from the oven.”

  Mira shook her head as she slid out of bed. “Those two are nuts. They’re just going to be falling asleep in front of the TV tonight by like eight thirty or something.”

  Paige tossed her head back and laughed. What a little mynah bird. She’d obviously heard Paige mutter something similar to her parents at one point. It was true though, her parents were early birds, only to be nodding off before eight thirty in the evening as they watched the news.

  Mira slipped into her Crocs next to the sliding glass door of the pool house and reached for the handle. “You coming, Mama?”

  Paige scribbled down a few notes, then slid off the bed, pulled her robe on and stuffed her feet into her slippers. “Right behind you, baby.”

  �
��I’ll get it!” Mira hollered, her little feet thundering down the hall toward the front door. The bell had chimed, and Paige was up to her elbows in flour and pastry dough, so she couldn’t very well leave the kitchen.

  “Mom,” Paige called, “can you go with her, please?”

  Even though Paige was almost one hundred percent certain it was their guests on the other side of the door, one can never be too careful. Adam had mentioned that Mira opened the front door the other day while he was in the bathroom, and it had been a man going around neighborhoods offering to pressure-wash people’s driveways.

  Needless to say, Adam had given their daughter quite the in-depth lecture about the dangers of opening the door to strangers, and then he’d also reiterated the scenario to Paige with terror in his eyes.

  Mira seemed to understand the severity of her actions, but she was also four, so that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do them again without so much as a second thought. Her impulse control left much to be desired.

  She heard the front door creak open, and the house was suddenly flooded with the sound of voices. More thundering feet, this time belonging to two little girls, echoed down the hall. Seconds later, Mira and Jayda appeared.

  “Hi, Mrs. Mira’s Mom,” Jayda said, blinking big blue eyes at Paige. Her long blonde hair was braided in two plaits down either side of her head, reminding Paige of Heidi.

  “Hi, Jayda. How are you, sweetheart?”

  Jayda made a face that one would expect to see an adult make when they were weighing the productivity of their day. “I’m doing okay, thank you. Spent most of the day outside in the sprinkler. I’m glad the winds finally changed and I can go outside again. That smoke was gross.”