The Single Dad - A Standalone Romance (A Single Dad Firefighter Romance)

by Claire Adams

  It’s a secret. Be downstairs in 15.

  I stood up quickly and dashed to my closet. I changed out of the comfortable, broken-down jeans and tee shirt I had been wearing and into a skirt and leggings. I kept the shirt—it was one that I’d had since I’d been in high school, and I thought that it might make it a bit easier for Zack; that is, if he remembered it. I realized that I really had no idea of the ways in which Zack had changed since we’d been apart—except for the fact that he was apparently a much better lay than he had been when we’d been together.

  ****

  When Zack pulled into the putt-putt golf course fifteen minutes away from campus, I almost laughed; not because it was silly—although it was—but because it surprised me that he had even remembered it. We used to go to one of the other locations for that franchise when we had been dating in high school.

  “Okay,” I said as he chose a parking spot and switched off the ignition. “I am at least a little bit impressed that you took the time to remember this.”

  “Do you remember how often I beat you?”

  I rolled my eyes, smiling in spite of myself. “You cheated. And when you didn’t cheat, I beat you.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” Zack said, getting out and shooting me another grin.

  I shook my head and slipped out of the passenger seat, taking a deep breath. I had to admit that the choice of a date that harkened back to our relationship rattled me a bit. What was he up to? I couldn’t think that Zack didn’t have some kind of bigger game in mind. But if he had just wanted to get back at me for dumping food on him, why would he pick somewhere pleasant?

  I was fully prepared for Zack to try and ruin the memories I’d had of our relationship dating each other in high school. Instead, he insisted on paying the fees—even buying us each a beer to take out onto the path. I started to relax but never fully let down my guard; it was hard, because Zack seemed to be determined to be as charming as humanly possible. He joked and smiled, and I couldn’t quite keep myself from feeling the little frisson that went through me when he touched my arm, or brushed against me moving to the tee. I reminded myself that it had just been sex for him—that there was nothing between us. I also reminded myself to be on the lookout for any sign that Zack was going to try and get his revenge on me for dumping food on him.

  “You know,” he said, lining up his shot at the fifth hole, “I have to admit that I was kind of a jerk to you the other day.”

  “You mean yelling at me in front of your team?” I didn’t bother clarifying that it was only yesterday; there was no point in it.

  “No—although that was kind of an asshole thing to do, too. I mean, not talking to you after we had sex. It was just a one-off thing but I shouldn’t have just totally gone off the radar.”

  “Well I didn’t really call you either,” I admitted, watching his golf ball hit the bumpers and end up a few feet away from the hole.

  “Yeah, but I should have at least checked to make sure that we were okay—like, we have history.”

  “Oh, is this suddenly the kinder, gentler Zack?” I rolled my eyes and watched him sink the putt.

  Zack grinned. “You used to think I was charming.”

  “You used to be charming.”

  Zack laughed and gestured for me to take my turn. I looked over the course. If I could hit the bumper just right, I could sink the ball in one—putting me just slightly ahead of Zack. I lined up my shot and got into position, looking from the ball to the part of the bumper I wanted to hit. It wasn’t impossible. I went to hit the ball, bringing the club back carefully.

  “You know, you were actually kind of hot when you were angry that day.” Zack’s comment interrupted my putt and my ball bounced, not rolling into the hole but instead veering just beyond it.

  “You’re cheating!” Zack grinned and followed me to where my ball came to rest. “Jerk.” I was trying not to smile—it was difficult to really be angry at someone for a no-stakes putt-putt game, even if they were cheating.

  “You used to cheat all the time back in the day. You tickled me once!”

  I sank my putt and shook my head at Zack with a grin, reaching in and taking out my ball. “I never had a need to cheat. I have always been the better putt-putt player.”

  Zack snorted. “So then why do I have a ribbon that you made proclaiming me the putt-putt champion of the world?”

  I laughed. “Because you insisted I make it the one time you beat me fair and square—and even then I’m not sure you didn’t find some way to cheat.”

  “Aw come on, Evie. You and I both know that if I had cheated you’d have figured it out. You’re the smarter one of the two of us.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little warmer at the compliment—even if it was nothing but the truth. Zack wasn’t stupid; he was smart himself, but even in high school he’d gotten himself into scrapes that I’d predicted long before would get him into trouble.

  “You’re right about that,” I said, letting myself get a little cocky.

  I went first at the next hole and managed to get it in two—but I was still one point away from Zack. It was strange how easily we’d fallen into old habits, and how easy it was to imagine it was just like high school again; I was almost tempted to ask Zack if he was planning to take me out to Dairy Queen after—but there was no DQ nearby.

  We kept up our good-natured argument about which of us cheated more in our previous rounds of putt-putt, and which of us was actually the better player naturally; eventually, Zack stopped me at the 10th hole. “I have an idea.”

  “That’s the signal of a disaster coming,” I joked.

  Zack grinned and tousled my hair playfully. “You say you’re naturally better than me at putt-putt. Well, prove it. If you win this game, I won’t make you go out on another date with me—I won’t have anything to do with you anymore.”

  I smiled. “I kind of like the sound of that.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about it in truth; part of me was relieved that I wouldn’t have to deal with the jumble of my feelings—but part of me had actually liked spending time with Zack. Then I remembered the altercation in the dining hall and then the more recent embarrassment of his yelling at me in front of his teammates. Even if he had apologized for both, they didn’t point to a guy I wanted to spend a lot of time with.

  “But if I win, you let me come back to your place after.” I considered it. Even if my feelings toward him had warmed a little bit, I had no intention of sleeping with Zack again any time soon, especially after hearing around campus—discreetly—that he was a player. It was clear to me that he didn’t take any of it seriously, and I had to wonder why he’d even bothered with the date at all. I knew I was better at the game than he was. I could win. I was only one point behind—and we had another 8 holes to go.

  “Okay. Deal.” I extended my hand and he shook it. “You agree, though: no cheating. If you cheat, the deal goes out the window.”

  “No cheating, just pure athletic skill.”

  I nodded again. We played in earnest, still talking and chatting, but seriously competing at the same time. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to never have Zack see me again, but I certainly wanted to prove myself against him, I wanted the advantage. And it was clear that all he was interested in was another easy lay; why else would he have made the conditions for his win that he could come back to my dorm? I was going to show him that I was no easy lay—he’d already burned that bridge. Even though I was good, Zack was legitimately good as well, and each of us got ahead and then behind through the next eight holes, until we came to the last one—where we were tied.

  “Feeling the pressure, Evie?” Zack asked me.

  “Nope, I’m just trying to decide if I should delete your number from my phone completely since you won’t be calling me anymore.” I grinned as I said it; if I hadn’t deleted his phone number when we broke up in high school, or after the spectacle in the dining hall, I certainly wasn’t going to delete it now.

  “Big talk from s
omeone who’s destined to lose.”

  Zack lined up his putt. It was a windmill obstacle—the most difficult kind. Zack had never managed to get the ball through the windmill in the first attempt when we’d been dating before, so I had a certain amount of freedom, I thought. Normally I could get through the windmill, but it took me a stroke or two to get the actual putt sunk.

  “What happens if we tie?”

  Zack shrugged. “We go back to your place, and after that you never have to speak to me again.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Zack took his shot; somehow, and I will never know how, he managed to get it through the hole in the windmill just short of being knocked aside. I groaned.

  “Oh come on, if you’re going to lose, lose gracefully,” Zack said, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I tingled all over and told myself firmly that it was not the time to get all distracted by Zack’s charms. It was time to hope against hope that he would flub the shot into the hole and that I might have some chance at winning the game yet.

  Of course, he shot from the other side of the windmill and managed to get his shot in two strokes. I took a deep breath. If I timed it just right, and got just the right speed, I could possibly—maybe—manage to get a hole in one. I put my ball on the tee and watched the windmill for a moment. The windmill holes were always tricky; the speed of the windmill’s arms was just slow enough to be deceptive, and just fast enough to swoop down on a ball right as it got to the hole in the windmill itself. Zack was standing behind me and I could feel his presence, feel him watching me intently to see if I would actually make it. I took another deep breath and swung.

  The ball canted on its way towards the windmill, and it hit the corner of the hole—to be knocked aside by one of the arms. “Son of a bitch!” I gripped the club hard and wanted to throw it down, not because I wanted to cut Zack out of my life, but because I hated to lose. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t win, but I could, at least—as Zack said—lose gracefully. I took two more strokes to get the ball through the windmill, and then another stroke to get it into the final hole. Zack somehow managed not to gloat; I could see it hovering in the back of his eyes, the urge to flaunt his victory over me.

  “Want to grab another beer and watch the batting cages before we go back?” he asked.

  It would give me a little bit of time to get over it, at least. I agreed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “So, this is the living room,” I said, throwing myself onto the comfortable old couch as we came into the dorm room.

  Zack looked around and smiled faintly at the pictures that Jess and I had plastered on the walls. We technically had two other roommates, but they were never around; they practically lived with their boyfriends off campus.

  “Did you bring in your own furniture?”

  I shook my head. Jess and I had agreed in the first week that while the couch was comfortable, it was hideous; we spent the first weekend of classes shopping around for a good cover. Zack threw himself down next to me and put his arm over the back of the couch, dropping his hand on my shoulder casually. I started to move away, but made myself stay; he wasn’t trying anything too aggressive.

  We started talking; it felt awkward—I didn’t know what to talk to Zack about that wouldn’t steer us in the direction of the drama surrounding our reunion. He asked about the newspaper, and how I’d managed to get signed on and I told him about Professor Grant and the assignment. He laughed as I rehashed the first meeting I’d been to, mimicking some of the more contentious people on the newspaper staff. I asked him tentatively about the frat—what they did when they weren’t partying, trying to figure out just what kind of person Zack had become as a college student. He seemed the same as I remembered him in high school, but different at the same time, and it was impossible for me to figure out whether or not I actually liked him.

  “Hey! Can you guys be quiet out here? Alex has an early class.” Jess’ voice came from the direction of her room and I shook my head. Another guy? I wondered if Jess had some kind of secret pact with herself to sleep with someone in every major the college offered. Zack raised an eyebrow.

  “I have no idea who that is,” I whispered. “But I assume he was decent if she’s letting him sleep here.”

  Zack grinned. “You ever bring a guy up to your room before?” he whispered back.

  I shook my head. “You’re…you’re my first in that, too.” My cheeks burned with a blush and I looked down at my lap as I started picking at imaginary lint on my skirt.

  “That’s definitely an honor—though I don’t think I’ll share it with anyone.”

  I looked up, confused; why would he share it with anyone, anyway? Zack took advantage of my shock to lean in. He brushed his lips against mine lightly—feather-soft at first. I was too shocked to react, though I shouldn’t have been; I found myself kissing back for a moment, letting Zack press up against me, allowing him to start to guide me onto my back on the couch. It was when his hand started to trail up from my knee that I came to my senses. I pulled back and broke the kiss, sitting up quickly and then standing.

  “What’s wrong?” Zack barely kept his voice to a whisper and I looked anxiously in the direction of Jess’ room.

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  Zack’s look of concern dissolved into confusion and he stared at me. “What do you mean?”

  I shook my head, smoothing my skirt against my legs. My heart was pounding, my body was tingling all over from nothing more than the kiss. I was already starting to get turned on, and my cheeks were burning. I couldn’t let him stay. I couldn’t be in the same room as him for any longer. I’d give in and then it would be the same mess all over again.

  “I’m not interested in being your fuck buddy,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I swallowed, realizing that I had broken a whisper. “I’m not…that’s not the kind of person I am.” I managed to keep my voice low.

  “You agreed. You said I could come back to your place if I won, and I won.” Zack’s confusion was turning into frustration, his brow wrinkling as he looked at me—almost looking hurt. I set my jaw.

  “I agreed to let you come back to my place. I never agreed to have sex with you. You’re right here. You’re in my dorm. That’s the letter of the agreement.” Zack frowned and started to stand up, before settling back on the couch.

  “That’s kind of mean, Evie,” he said. “You know what it means to go back to someone’s place.”

  I shook my head. “No. I said you could come back to my place. I didn’t say anything about kissing or sex or anything else.”

  Zack pressed his lips together and I could see he was getting frustrated. If he started yelling at me, it would wake Jess up for sure, and I at least could count on her—and maybe Alex, whoever he was—to get rid of Zack. I almost wanted Zack to act like an asshole; it would make it easier to get over him.

  Instead, he took a deep breath and stood. He started towards the door to the room and stopped as he would have passed me. He leaned in and I thought he was going to try and convince me; instead he kissed me on the cheek quickly and then left. I sighed, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or frustrated. I took a deep breath and locked the dorm room door, going to my bedroom and throwing myself in bed without even bothering to take off my clothes. I’d figure out what I thought about it in the morning.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next day, I finished off my article for the newspaper as soon as I got up; it didn’t help my jumbled-up feelings about Zack that I had to finish transcribing the interview with him. I listened to the tape again to make sure I hadn’t made any errors and the sound of his voice sent hot and cold tingles through me. It was nothing, I told myself. Zack just wanted to make me go on a date with him so he could get in my pants again, though why he was so determined when there were plenty of girls on campus who would be happy to oblige, I had no idea. I proofread my article twice and saved it on a jump drive along with pr
inting it out; that was the standard practice with the newspaper and I could understand why; they wanted to make sure they had a hard copy in case something happened to the digital version. It was easier to re-type something than it was to totally re-compose it.

  Before I went to my first class, I went into the student union and found Lisa’s office on the other side of the meeting room for the campus newspaper.

  “You’re the first in!” she told me cheerfully, taking the jump drive and the paper from me. She skimmed the printed copy, nodding a few times. “I’ll read it in detail later, but it looks like you hit all the high points.”

  Before I could go, someone else rushed in through the door to turn in their assignment, on their way to class. I grinned to myself; even if it wasn’t perfect—I had no delusions that I would get it exactly right the first time out—there was some accomplishment in being the first person to turn in a piece for the edition.

  I went to the dining hall and grabbed a quick breakfast—cereal and juice—and managed to make myself a smoothie to take with me to class. I had a long stretch from the morning to lunch; the first week of classes I’d had to deal with a rumbling, roiling stomach halfway through my second class of the day because I couldn’t eat much early in the morning, but right around 10 I was starving. I managed to take notes, but the entire time I was in class I kept getting distracted by thoughts of Zack. The date had been genuinely fun; while I kind of hated the way he’d gone about convincing me to go out with him, it had been nice—if a little weird—to relive our high school relationship that way.

  If he had just wanted to get into my pants, why would he have gone to so much trouble? But he had clearly been interested in getting me in bed; he’d convinced me to make the wager and had almost insisted on it when I reneged on the spirit of the agreement. I was conflicted. I still hadn’t gotten down to the decision of whether Zack was the same he’d always been or if he’d changed into some gross type of guy who just slept around and didn’t care about anyone since becoming a frat boy. I had to clear my head. I’d just have to tell Zack no the next time he asked me out. I couldn’t afford to get distracted with midterms coming and the need to keep my grades up to make my scholarships—with the added work of writing for the campus newspaper. I had to keep myself free of all distractions.