Best Laid Plans

by Farlow, LK

  This girl…she loves her daddy. “Yes, Tater Tot. I’m finally ready. Let’s go!”

  The entire drive is spent with Tatum chattering excitedly to her Poppy Troll and me worrying about how I look in my swimsuit—especially after eating a heavy lunch. Oh, God, I should have gone with my mom-suit.

  My worry stays with me right up the walkway and to the front door…where Alden is waiting, clad in only his swim trunks. Oh, Jesus. This man is the perfect male specimen. With his smooth, tanned skin stretched taut over his lean muscles, he looks more like a sculpture you’d find in a fine art museum than standing here in nowhere Alabama.

  Behind the safety of my sunglasses, I stare at him without any shame. At least, until he says, “You’re drooling a little, Nat.”

  Mortified, I rush past him and into his house, straight through to the backyard. Strike me down now, God!

  His throaty chuckle follows behind me, taunting.

  “We swim now?” Tatum bursts through the back door, struggling to remove her cover-up.

  I start to go to help her, but Alden beats me to it. “Sunblock first.”

  I retrieve the bottle from my bag and pass it to him. He sprays her down and then uses it on himself. I watch, tantalized by the way his abs flex and bunch as he does so.

  “Hey! Earth to Nat!”

  I snap out of my Alden-induced lust-fog. “Huh? Yeah?”

  He laughs again. “You want some?”

  So, maybe I’m still in said lust-fog because it takes me a minute to realize he’s referring to the sunblock and not…well, you know. “Sure,” I croak out.

  Except he makes no move to hand over the bottle. I gesture for it, but he smirks. “Can’t put on your SPF if you’re still clothed.”

  “Y’all go ahead,” I tell him, desperate for his attention to be off of me.

  “Nah, we’ll wait.”

  Hello, rock and hard place. Nervously, I peel my cover up over my head, depositing it onto the porch near my feet.

  * * *

  Alden

  I know the game I’m playing is dangerous, but for some reason, I can’t stop pushing her buttons.

  But when that piece of fabric hits the deck, I damn near swallow my tongue. Natalie has grown up right. “Damn, girl,” I mutter under my breath as I step a little closer.

  She’s looking anywhere but at me, and yet I can’t look away. She’s all lush curves, and the way her tits look in her swimsuit top is almost pornographic. They’re full and bouncy and jiggly and…fuck.

  I have to get my shit together, for several reasons. One, because our daughter is right fucking here watching our every move. Two, Natalie and I aren’t like that. I mean, the last time we kissed, she practically begged me not to do it again. Which, not going to lie, sucks. And three, I’m about two seconds from pitching a tent in my shorts, and that’s the last thing any of us need.

  Quickly, I toss her the sunblock and move to grab Tatum, hoisting her up onto my shoulders. She squeals as I walk us into the pool, the cool water instantly cooling my raging, underused libido.

  I lower Tatum, moving her to balance her on my hip. She splashes happily as we wait on Natalie to join us. And join us she does, gliding down the damn pool steps like a runway model, with Tatum’s floaties clasped in her hands. She walks to us, the water moving around her, splashing up onto the exposed hint of her midsection. Her two-piece is classy and shows just enough to make me want to peel it away.

  Fuck. What am I thinking?

  I school my features as best I can, trying to keep her from seeing the X-rated thoughts dancing in my mind. When she reaches us, she dips one floatie in the water and then slides it up Tatum’s arm, repeating the action with the second.

  With me at her shoulders and Natalie at her feet, together we help Tatum float on her back. When she gets tired of that, I teach her to hold her breath via the classic puffed cheeks and nose-pinch method, and I softly dunk her a few times.

  Every time she resurfaces, she cackles like it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced. Turns out my girl’s a water baby. Once she’s fairly comfortable with that, I let her jump from the edge and catch her.

  We play and splash and splash and play until Tatum’s tummy rumbles, and she demands a snack. The three of us climb out of the pool, and Nat dries Tatum off while I run inside to grab her something to eat.

  Armed with the perfect late afternoon snack—lemonade and fresh-cut fruit—I head back to my girls. Oh, shit. Did I just say my girls? Yes. Yes, I did, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

  I find them laid out on side-by-side loungers. Tatum is wrapped in her towel, while Natalie lies on top of hers, soaking in the sun, looking every bit like a goddess. There I go again. Jesus. It must be all the skin she’s showing that’s got me so keyed up.

  “Who’s hungry?” I ask, setting the platter down. I pass each of them a small plate and glass—well, a sippy cup for Tatum.

  While Tatum is happily munching away, I ask Nat, “Do you mind if we Skype my parents? They’ve been dying to meet her.”

  “No, not at all.” She downs the last of her lemonade. “I’ll give y’all some privacy.”

  “Oh, you don’t have—”

  She holds up a hand, stopping me. “I want to.” She leans over and presses her lips to Tatum’s temple before leaving us for the refreshing water of the pool.

  “Hey, pretty girl. How do you feel about video calling your grandparents with me?”

  She scrunches up her nose in the most adorable way. “Nana and Popsie? Dey already know me.”

  Damn, this kid is cute. “No, I mean my parents.”

  Tatum’s eyes widen. “You mean I have two?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Dey get me Christmas presents too?” I bite back a smile at her innocent question. God bless the kid that her biggest worry is getting extra presents under the tree.

  “I bet they will. They’re so excited to meet you.”

  She eyes me expectantly, and I stand and move to the end of Tatum’s lounger, grabbing my phone off the table and dialing them. I had sense enough to warn my parents that this call was a possibility, so when they answer, it is with bright smiles.

  “Oh, my goodness!” My mom’s voice croons through the speaker. “She is absolutely precious!”

  “Pretty girl, this is Phyllis and Bob, your grandparents.” Tatum smiles at them, and they smile right back. “Mom, Dad—this is Tatum.”

  “Well aren’t you the prettiest little girl ever?” Dad asks, sounding sappier than I’ve ever heard.

  Tatum nods seriously, causing them to smile. “My daddy says I’m a pwincess!”

  I swear, my dad wipes away a tear. “Then it must be true.” His voice is scratchy. It does something to me to see my dad, who is usually so stoic, this choked up.

  They chat back and forth for a while, with me adding input when needed. More than once, my gaze flits to Natalie and her lithe body cutting through the water. Good God, I think I’d give my left nut to get her under me.

  After about fifteen minutes, Tatum yawns and her eyes droop shut, so I end the call with a promise to do it again soon. After setting my phone back onto the table, I turn to ask Tatum what she thinks of my parents, but she’s out like a light, curled up on a lounger in the shade. I sit with her for a few more minutes, stealing surreptitious glances at Nat as she swims laps from one end of the pool to the other.

  Eventually, the heat wins out, and I head for the pool. I make sure to stay in the shallow end in case Tatum wakes up and needs either of us. Though, judging from the logs that kid is sawing, she’s out.

  I strategically position myself to the right side of the steps, propping up against the wall. Not-so-coincidentally, this also happens to be the side where Natalie’s been swimming her laps. I watch her sinful body slice through the water like a hot knife through butter. Her movements are fluid, effortless.

  As she nears me, I realize my error. But it’s too late for me to move. I only wanted the
best view of her, not what I know is about to happen. Though, let’s be real, I’m not gonna complain, either.

  Natalie surfaces, taking a breath before heading back under. She reaches out for the wall, but her hand connects with the hard planes of my abs instead. Her head pops out of the water and she rears back, struggling to find her footing. I reach for her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling tight to me.

  “I’ve got you, Small Fry.”

  Breathlessly, she blinks up at me, water clinging to her lashes. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that since—well, you know.”

  “Is it now?” I try and think back, but it’s an impossible task with her skin touching mine.

  She nods, the up and down movement causing her breasts to shake and like the dog I am, I watch. I’m so totally transfixed by the sight of her, pressed against me beneath the surface of the water, that I’m not even sure I’m aware of my actions as I trace the contour of her body with my fingertips.

  “Alden,” she whispers my name like a prayer. “Wh-what’s happening?”

  Starting at the edge of her swim top, I gently work my way down, skimming my fingers over her skin, loving the way she rocks the curves that motherhood gave her. My fingers roam over her hip and around to the swell of her ass, not stopping until they meet the seam of her bikini bottoms.

  Her breath shutters.

  “Fuck, Nat, I don’t know. But I’m tired of fighting this.” With that, I pull her even closer and seal my mouth to hers, flicking my tongue against her bottom lip until she grants me entry. Our kiss is every bit as heated as the air outside, and when I feel her nipples pebble through the triangle of her bikini top, I damn near lose it.

  I slide my hand beneath her bottoms, palming the flesh of her ass, pulling her against my hardness. With only the thin nylon of our bathing suits separating us, I can feel her heat, her outline. I nestle my erection against her and use the hand on her ass to guide her as she eagerly rolls her hips. We meet thrust for thrust, grinding on each other like our lives depend on the orgasms we’re both chasing.

  Ready for more, I withdraw my hand from the backside of her swimsuit and she whines in displeasure. That is until I slip it down the front side instead. I trace her seam with my index finger, teasing and rubbing until she’s a panting mess, and I’m about to blow my load in my swim trunks just from the sounds she’s making.

  “Fuck, Nat, you feel so good.”

  She moans her agreement, the sound a direct line to my pleasure, frantically tugging at the waistband of my trunks. She frees me, and tingles start at the base of my spine. I move to shift her bottoms to the side, ready to slide home when a wail sounds from the porch.

  Tatum.

  Natalie flies away from me, hurriedly righting her bikini before rushing to our daughter. I linger, waiting on my erection to fully die down. Thankfully, toddler tears are a total boner killer.

  By the time I make it over to them, she has Tatum soothed and napping again. I’m tempted to see if she wants to pick back up where we left off, but the moment is gone.

  I take in the sight before me, Natalie with her cheeks all flushed, gently rubbing Tatum’s back. Swear to God, she’s never looked more beautiful than she does now.

  “Stay for dinner?” I ask, my tone just shy of begging.

  “Yeah, okay,” Natalie whispers. “What about Tatum?”

  As softly as I can, I lift my sleeping girl up into my arms and head for the house. Natalie picks up the platter and our towels, following behind me. She looks at me quizzically as I begin to climb the stairs.

  I gesture for her to open the first door on the right and when she gets a glimpse inside, she audibly gasps. I try and take in the view from her perspective, from the pale aqua walls to the twin bed outfitted with a white quilt with rows and rows of neon-colored pompom balls. I even remembered to get a rail for her bed.

  “You…you did all of this?”

  I stride across the room to the bed. Natalie rushes over and pulls down the quilt, allowing me to tuck my daughter in bed in my own house for the first time ever. I draw the covers up to her chin, brush her chlorine-scented hair off of her face, and drop a soft kiss to her forehead. “Love you, pretty girl.”

  Out in the hall, Natalie repeats her earlier question, sounding on the verge of tears.

  “Yeah, I—uh…I wanted to be prepared in case she ever spent the night. I wanted her to feel at home here, too.”

  Natalie shocks the shit out me when she presses a hard but chaste kiss to my lips, retreating before I can even react. “You’re a good man, Alden Warner.”

  33

  Natalie

  We’re downstairs, with me seated on a bar stool and Alden pulling out ingredients. We’ve probably been down here for at least ten minutes, but gah, my lips are still tingling from our brief kiss outside of Tatum’s room.

  Then again, the rest of me is still tingling from our bump-n-grind session in the pool. And the fact that we’re both still wearing only our swimsuits isn’t helping.

  And my heart…my heart is fluttering over how entirely Alden has accepted Tatum into his life. I mean, that bedroom was fit for a princess. I even noticed a few Trolls toys in the corner, along with a box marked Dress Up. Seriously, could this man be any more perfect?

  “Whatcha making?” I ask, drumming my nails on the hard surface of his granite countertops.

  “We are making brown butter scallops with parmesan risotto.”

  “Ooh, fancy,” I tease.

  He gives me a lopsided grin and walks back over to the fridge, where he grabs a bag of marinating chicken. “And grilled chicken for Tatum.”

  “Good call. She’s adventurous, but maybe not that much.”

  “You gonna come help me?”

  “Yes, chef.” I give him a salute and come around to the other side of the island. I try not to get distracted by all of the smooth skin he has on display, especially since he seems so in the zone.

  Alden has me start the risotto while he heats grapeseed oil in a non-stick pan and pats the scallops dry. I’m in the process of adding the arborio rice to my shallots and garlic, and the smell alone is drool-worthy.

  I let out a little moan at the scents filling the kitchen, and no lie, Alden growls. Goodbye, metaphorical panties, it was nice knowing ya!

  After adding my white wine, I slowly add in broth. Simmer, stir, pour, over and over, until my rice is soft and creamy. “Small Fry, think you can start the spinach?”

  “Yeah, I can do that!” I grab a pan from the ceiling-mounted rack that hangs over the island. I ignite the burner and oil the pan, letting it heat before adding some garlic. I alternate between the risotto and the spinach while Alden works on the scallops, brown butter, and Tatum’s chicken. We move around each other in the kitchen like it’s a dance we’ve been doing together our entire lives.

  Our timing is so in sync, we reach simultaneously to shut off our burners, our hands brushing in the process. Little jolts of electricity race from where we touched, heading straight to my heart—and other places.

  “Why don’t you go wake up sleeping beauty, and I’ll plate everything.”

  I nibble my lower lip—God, he is so sexy. “Sounds good.” I turn and head for the stairs before I can do anything dumb. Like throw myself at him, and beg for him to finish what we started earlier.

  In her room—gah, that sounds weird still—Tatum is still fast asleep. “Tater Tot, it’s time to get up.” I kiss her temple. When she doesn’t stir, I tickle her ribs and shake her lightly. “C’mon sleepyhead, your daddy made a yummy dinner!”

  At the mention of food, her eyes pop open.

  “Let’s get you out this swimsuit first, though. Be right back.” I run down the stairs, grab our bag, and dash back up. Once we’re both dressed, we head down, ready for dinner.

  “Plates are on the table,” Alden says. Apparently, he found time to change too, as he’s now dressed in a pair of navy sweats—still no shirt, much to my delight.

/>   They way Alden has plated our dinner is worthy of a Michelin-star restaurant. The seared, perfectly golden-brown scallops rest atop the risotto along with the spinach. It truly is picture perfect.

  And holy shit, it tastes even better. Even Tatum agrees, happily devouring her risotto and chicken. “Dis good, Daddy.”

  Every time I hear her call him that, my belly swoops low and my heart does a little dance in my chest. If it makes me that giddy, I can only imagine how he feels. Probably like the king of the world, if I had to guess.

  After dinner, I clear our plates, rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher. I already know it’s going to be a struggle getting Tatum loaded up to head home. She loves spending time with her daddy and is not going to go quietly.

  Stalling, I also scrub the pots and pans, as well as wipe down the counters. I guess I stalled too long though, because when I reenter the dining room, they aren’t there.

  I follow the sounds of my girl’s high-pitched laughter, finding them in the family room. Alden is queuing up a movie—Boss Baby from the looks of it.

  “We’s gonna watch a moobie!” Tatum informs me, patting the spot to the left of her on the oversized couch.

  “Is that all right?” Alden asks, sounding unsure.

  “Sure. But only if we have popcorn.”

  “That I can handle. Have a seat.”

  I drop down next to my girl, and she immediately leans into me while Alden goes to make us some popcorn.

  He quickly returns, claiming the spot on the other side of Tatum. Like the little diva she is, she snags the popcorn bowl from him and kicks her feet up into his lap. And like the sucker he is, he sets to work massaging her little toes.

  She sighs dramatically and tosses a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth before focusing her attention on the screen.

  As much as I hate to admit it, the movie is cute—even if it is my one-millionth time seeing it. It would seem that Alden agrees, because Tatum has long since fallen asleep—again—yet here we are, still watching. And we keep watching all the way until the end credits.