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

by Whitley Cox

  She didn’t turn him to face her but instead stood next to him and laced her fingers through his. “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine my life without you either. You’ve turned my world upside down and in the best possible way. I know you think I’m strong, but I only feel strong because of you. You’ve helped me find a strength I didn’t know I had left inside me, and I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “This happened really fast,” he breathed. “I didn’t expect to meet someone and fall for them as fast and hard as I’ve fallen for you. And the fact that our girls love each other … I know it was meant to be, but … ”

  “It all happened really fast,” she finished. “I feel the same way. Our romance was a whirlwind and yet this is our first date.”

  His head snapped around from the sea to her face, his mouth open in surprise.

  She chuckled and shrugged. “Well, it is. Technically. I mean we sleep together, hang out together, but we’ve never really been out together.”

  He faced the water again and hung his head, shaking it slightly. “Fuck.”

  She shrugged and squeezed his fingers. “Don’t sweat it. Sometimes the best relationships are unconventional ones. But if you’re worried that we’re going too fast, we could always slow down.”

  He faced her again, grasping her arms. “No. I don’t want to slow down. Everything that’s happening between us is happening for a reason, happening at the pace it’s supposed to. What we have is amazing. It’s just … ” He sighed. “Jayda’s words today just rattled me. I don’t for a second disbelieve that she’s talking to her mother. She’s always been a very spiritual child. She said that my dad visits her when she plays Play-Doh and Violet’s partner, Jean-Phillipe, only speaks French to her, but he’s usually too busy because he’s off dancing in the clouds.”

  “Wow, that’s specific. Mira’s not there yet when it comes to the discussion of death. My grandmother died about four months ago, and she talks about great-grandma, but she doesn’t say she talks to her. She actually did something a little odd the other day.”

  His eyebrow lifted.

  She continued. “She was playing with chalk with my mother out on the driveway and had my mother draw everyone in the family, including my grandmother. Then Mira picked up a piece of chalk and scribbled all over my grandmother, saying that she was gone. She was dead, so she needed to be scribbled out.”

  Mitch’s eyes widened.

  Paige’s chuckle was forced. “Yeah, she’s processing in a very interesting way. We talk about my grandmother a lot, which I think helps. She also left Mira a garnet ring as both their birthdays were in January and that’s their birthstone, but I’m still not sure how much Mira understands death.”

  “Kids understand more than we think. I didn’t think Jayda understood half as much as she does about death. She’s teaching me.”

  Paige took a half step toward him. His fingers on her arms loosened.

  “We always learn more from our children than they learn from us.” She looped her arms over his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck. “That was the best piece of advice my mother ever gave me.”

  His fingers tickled along her arms before encircling her waist. “Solid advice.”

  “I’m scared too, Mitch. I haven’t been with anyone since Adam. I don’t even know how to date anymore. Am I doing this right? Am I being a good girlfriend?”

  His smile had her moving into his arms. “You are.”

  But his behavior had sparked an unease inside her that she’d been ignoring for a while now. Perhaps he was right. Maybe they were going too fast. Should they slow down? She shook her head, her eyes darting across his face in search of something she wasn’t even sure of. “I don’t even know if getting involved with someone right now is healthy. I mean I’ve told my therapist about you, and she’s supportive, but is it really the best idea? I know I’m happy when I’m with you. I’m glad you pushed me and pursued me. I don’t want to go slow or lose you from my life, but is it right? Is it healthy?”

  “We’re spiraling,” he said, pulling her body tighter against his. “We can’t spiral. Especially not both of us.”

  She shook her head. He was right. They were spiraling. Spiraling was bad.

  “If it feels right, we need to go with it. We can’t second-guess ourselves. We can’t second-guess us.”

  She nodded. “Can’t second-guess us.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry for today. I’m sorry I was weird and distant. It’s just what Jayda said jarred me, and I was struggling to process. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way about someone again, and it just … it’s—” Instead of finishing his sentence, he pressed his lips to her forehead again.

  She could fill in the rest for him.

  It’s scary. It’s overwhelming. It’s startling. It’s exciting. It’s confusing.

  Boy oh boy, was it confusing.

  Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head to see a lone hummingbird hovering just a few feet beside them.

  Mitch’s gaze followed hers.

  They both watched the hummingbird which seemed to be staring straight at them.

  Paige’s breath snagged in her throat. Melissa?

  Mitch must have been thinking something similar because she could tell he was holding his breath as well.

  Then, just as quickly as the hummingbird arrived, it flew away. Leaving Mitch and Paige alone—together. Just the two of them.

  Mitch turned back to face her and she met his gaze.

  He went to open his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, “I know,” she said with a small smile, playing with the nape of his neck and pushing his head down so that his lips hovered over hers. Her tongue flicked out to graze his lips. “I feel it all too. But we can feel it together, explore the emotions, the newness together.”

  He licked her lips. “I like that idea. Together. We’re in this together.” Then he sealed his lips over hers, pushing away all her worries and doubts from earlier, only to replace them with shiny, happy thoughts of the future.

  18

  It was the Friday night before the opening night of Mitch’s studio, and Paige opened up the door to her restaurant to take a peek at Greta’s paint job. She’d left her to her own devices, giving her a key and letting her come and go at her leisure. As long as she was finished with the mural by opening day on Labor Day, Paige didn’t really care when she painted or how long it took her. She was just grateful she’d found someone whose art she liked and who wasn’t going to charge her an arm and a leg to paint a bunch of lilacs and lavender on the walls.

  The restaurant smelled like fresh paint. Drop cloths were draped all over the tile floor, and a ladder sat next to a half-finished deep purple lilac bush. The outline of a dragonfly hovering over the flower was penciled on the wall, along with more flowers and foliage. She couldn’t wait to see the finished product.

  The sound of music from next door in the studio had her turning off the lights in her own little haven and opening the door to see if her neighbor could lend her a cup of sugar. Or something.

  She knocked gently as she turned the latch, but he hadn’t heard her, and rightfully so, because not only was the music extremely loud; Mitch was also singing.

  She wandered around the corner to the section of the studio where he took the portraits and where she’d let him photograph her naked. She found Mitch with his back to her, his hips wiggling in time with the beat, and his voice competing with the small speaker he had set up in the corner. She couldn’t place the band that played, but she’d heard the rock song on the radio once or twice. It wasn’t the top-forty hits she was used to, but it wasn’t terrible either.

  Smiling, she leaned against the wall, crossed her arms and watched him. Watched him wiggle that delicious ass as he fiddled with a photography light in the corner.

  Damn, her man was fine.

  M
itch’s big camera on the corner of the end table next to the couch caught her eye, and she picked it up.

  She wasn’t nearly as versed in the ways of cameras as her shutterbug boyfriend, but she knew her way around a DSLR. She hung the strap around her neck, turned it on, adjusted the focus and started to shoot.

  Careful not to alert him of her presence, she quietly moved around behind him, taking pictures, mostly of his back and butt but a few of his profile as well. He was still too busy with the cords and the words of the song to take notice.

  Good thing the front door was locked, otherwise the man could be robbed blind and be none the wiser.

  She wanted to get a better shot of his face and those full lips of his, but she also didn’t want him to see her. Candid was always best. Even the novice photographers like herself knew that.

  She kicked off her flip-flops so they didn’t impede her stealth, crouched down and moved in closer. Perhaps if she crept up to him, just behind him, and she popped up, she could catch him unaware.

  Like a puma, she stalked her buck as she approached him, her trigger finger poised ready on the button.

  She was close enough to smell him now, and like always, he smelled incredible. Manly and fresh, but also earthy. Whatever his deodorant or body wash was, it worked for him.

  Abandoning her stealth mode for just a moment, but not standing up from her crouch position, she took a deep inhale and shut her eyes, letting the heat from his big frame and sexy scent wash over her and fill her up.

  She opened her eyes once again only to come face to face with Mitch staring down at her, a big, goofy grin on his face.

  Paige hit the button on the camera and then fell back on her ass with a loud and painful oof.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  She made sure to let her butt take the majority of the impact, cradling Mitch’s precious Canon next to her chest like it was a newborn lamb, and all to the laughter of her handsome boyfriend.

  She sat up and huffed out a breath in despair. So much for being a photography ninja.

  Mitch placed his hands on his hips, his mouth twisting and twitching as he struggled to contain more laughter. “What were you up to?”

  She rolled her eyes and took his offered hand so he could help her stand up. She rubbed her sore butt cheeks before unslinging his camera from around her neck and handing it to him. “I was trying to get some shots of you singing and dancing. All the ones I got were of your butt.”

  He wiggled said gorgeous cheeks of lusciousness with a wily grin. “You want me to pose for you?” He handed her back the camera and grabbed a big level with the bright yellow bubble in the middle and held it up to his mouth like a microphone. He began to sing along with the song playing out through the small but powerful speaker.

  Shaking her head at the man in front of her but not denying how much happiness flowed through her, or the perma-grin on her face, she grabbed the camera from him again and started dramatically snapping photos. She bent down and tilted the camera. “That’s right, baby. Work it. Work it.”

  He lifted his shirt up just a touch to reveal his stomach, then threw his head back and closed his eyes.

  She chuckled. “The camera loves you. You were born for it, baby. Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”

  She spotted the small stand fan in the corner and grabbed it, pointing it directly at him and turning it on. His hair wasn’t really long enough to get that wind-blown look, but these photos weren’t for anybody’s eyes but hers anyway. She’d know there was wind.

  He continued to pose, pursing his lips and cocking his hips just like every third model on the side of a bus.

  “Shirtless, baby, shirtless. Show me what you’ve got hidden under there. Don’t hide it from the world. You worked hard to get it; show it off.”

  His eyes flashed open, and he pinned that soulful green stare right on her. Gooseflesh rippled along her arms. Without removing his gaze, he peeled his shirt provocatively over his head and tossed it at her. It landed on her head. She rolled her eyes and pulled it off, setting it on the couch behind her.

  He went for his belt buckle.

  Had she blinked?

  Probably not.

  Saliva filled her mouth as he painfully fucking slowly released the buckle on his faded, well-worn, ass-hugging, panty-soaking, perfect-fitting jeans. A small trimmed crop of hair from beneath his boxers peeked out, teasing, tempting. She could easily make out the thick line of his erection as it lay heavily against his muscular thighs.

  He cocked one eyebrow, asking for her permission to continue undressing.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “Take it all off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with what God gave you.”

  Ain’t nothing wrong at all.

  His smile was wicked and cocky as hell as he pushed his jeans down his thighs, letting his boxers take the journey too.

  Her heart thumped heavy in her chest.

  Click.

  Click.

  Oh, she would need copies of these FOR SURE.

  Mitch’s jeans dropped to his ankles and he kicked out of them, relieving his big sexy man-feet of his sandals at the same time.

  Unlike Paige, who remained conscientious and unsure of her appearance every minute of every day, not wanting to draw attention to herself or her flaws, Mitch stood tall, proud and hard as granite in front of her, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

  Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

  Her finger was beginning to cramp from pressing down so hard on the camera button.

  But this man was a work of art. He needed to be captured.

  Hell, he needed to be sculpted and put in a freaking museum.

  And then it hit her.

  Was this how Mitch saw her?

  Flawless?

  Because even though she knew Mitch had flaws and scars and quirks, to her, standing there vulnerable but also proud and naked as a bushman, only not nearly as hairy, he was perfect. She was driven to capture him on camera because something so beautiful, so perfect should not go unappreciated, should not go uncaptured.

  She’d stopped taking photos and was standing there, mulling over her revelation, when a big, warm hand wrapped around her waist and another one pulled the camera from her, his fingers firm as they grazed hers.

  “Stunned by what you see?” he purred.

  “Mesmerized,” she whispered back, looking up into his eyes.

  He set the camera down on the work bench he had set up against one wall and walked them backward toward the couch. Smiling up at him, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, feeling his erection bob against her hip as they backed up.

  Her calves hit the couch, and he fell on top of her, her body instantly relaxing when he placed all his solid weight over her.

  “Going to have to put a warning on those photos,” he said, settling between her legs. “Or delete them.”

  She shook her head and wiggled her hips beneath him. “Nuh-uh. No deletes. Those photos are a work of art. Some of the best photos I’ve ever taken, I’m sure. I bet we can get them blown up and framed in time for opening night tomorrow too. Put a few on the wall next to that wedding you shot in Italy.”

  The twinkle in his eyes stirred tendrils of need inside her. “Sounds good to me.” With his own ninja skills, he divested her of her shirt and bra easily, leaving her topless beneath him, her nipples painfully hard.

  His eyes flicked down between them, and with another impish smile, he latched on to one of her tight peaks, sucking it hard into his mouth to relieve her ache but add a new one, a more pleasant but much more demanding ache that sprinted down her body and settled between her legs.

  Paige raked her fingers down his back and gripped his fine ass in her palms, digging her nails into the taut muscle, tossing her head back in a laugh when he clenched the muscle until it was hard as stone.

  “I like this side of you,” he said, planting kisses over her bare chest and down her belly, forci
ng her to release the death grip she had on his ass. “I like to see you smile, hear your laugh. You have the best laugh.” He slipped off the couch onto his knees and pulled her around so that her legs, still clad in her denim shorts, were parted on either side of him. He made quick work of her bottoms, unfastening them with deft precision, but he left on her panties.

  Paige licked her lips and stared down the line of her body at his head as he leaned forward over the couch and shoved his nose between her legs, inhaling.

  He tugged at the spot on her panties right over her clit with his teeth, and she damn near had a heart attack when it bounced back against her tender nub. It was wet, and not just from his mouth.

  His long fingers hooked into the side of her underwear, and he drew them down over her legs as well. He brought the panties to his nose and inhaled again.

  She squirmed on the couch as she watched him. She should feel weirded out by that, right? She wasn’t particularly fond of her feminine scent, her essence as some romance novels called it. Not that it was bad or an unhealthy smell, but she certainly never put her underwear to her nose and took a whiff. She also couldn’t say she’d do that with Mitch’s boxers if given the chance.

  But watching Mitch do it, watching his eyes become hooded and filled with lust, his erection dripping a bead of precum onto the top of his thick thigh, it made everything inside her clench. It turned her on something fierce and made her want to watch him do it again.

  “Gonna put those photos into your spank bank?” he asked, bringing one of her legs over his shoulder and nipping at her inner thigh.

  “Shouldn’t need a spank bank with you on the ready,” she breathed.

  His other hand reached up her body and began to twist and twiddle her nipple. “Good answer.”

  She wriggled beneath his touch, squeaking from the nibbles up her leg. “As long as I’ve got you on the ready, twenty-four seven, I’ll just use those photos for my side business. Sell them to all my girlfriends for their spank banks.”

  He sucked on one of her folds, forcing her to shut her eyes and sink her top teeth into her bottom lip. “I kind of like that idea. All your friends flicking their bean to images of me, meanwhile I’m the only one who gets to flick”—he flicked her clit with his finger—“and suck”—he sucked her clit into his hot, wet mouth—“and lick”—he swept the flat of his tongue all the way across her clit, making her shiver—“your bean.”