Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  After I helped the girls get caught up and set the orders up for the day, I head across the street to Reid’s brand new garage. When he rented it out last month, it was an abandoned fire station. He has spent a lot of long nights, when I let him out of bed with me, working on converting it into a fully functional repair shop. He started taking customers again last week. The new garage has the added benefit of being directly across the street from the bakery, so when I have a rare down moment, I can stare through the windows at my fiancé while he works.

  Reid is standing on a ladder and whacking at something with a hammer. Plaster and fragments of brick rain down, spreading white dust across his broad, tanned shoulders. I bite my lip and watch the way his tight ass moves every time he swings the hammer. When I can’t take it anymore, I help myself to a handful.

  He smirks down at me. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “You know I can’t focus when you point this at me,” I say, giving his ass another squeeze for emphasis.

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “Get down from there so I can kiss you,” I demand.

  He obliges, hopping down and pulling me into his arms, letting me bask in the perfect smell of him. “You know you saved me,” I say, letting my forehead fall to his chest. “You swept in and saved me.”

  He tilts my chin up and looks down into my eyes. “You saved yourself. I was just along for the ride.”

  “You’re full of it, but you’re wise to give me the credit. Maybe you’ll survive married life after all.”

  He chuckles. “You bet your ass I’ll survive. As long as these lips are mine,” he says, leaning down to kiss me softly. “As long as these tits are mine,” He says, bending his neck to kiss my cleavage, despite the fact that we’re in the middle of the street. My cheeks redden, but I don’t stop him. Let everyone see. Let them see I’m his.

  “You’re worth it. Whatever it takes to keep you. You’re mine, and I’ll fight to keep it that way. Do you understand me? Whatever it takes.”

  Roman rings the full-sized wedding bell my parents insisted on having delivered. I turned them down on so many aspects of the wedding planning that I had to give in at least in some ways. After all, this may be my day, but letting them feel like they’ve contributed is part of the healing. I’m wearing a wedding dress with a deep V neck and white lace sleeves. The dress is cinched just below my breasts and flows elegantly over my swollen belly. It’s one of the few things I’ve worn lately that doesn’t make me feel like a bloated cow, which is a big plus on my wedding day.

  I make a last minute check of my hair, which I had straightened.

  “You look perfect, darling,” says my mom.

  I smile, squeezing her hand and taking a deep breath. “I think I’m ready.”

  As if on cue, Roman rings the wedding bell again. I laugh. “Isn’t he just supposed to ring it once?”

  “I don’t even know,” says Collete, waving away the question. “It’s your time, darling. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. Savor every moment.”

  “I will,” I say, kissing her cheek. “Thank you for being here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” she says, voice growing thick. She dabs at the corner of her eye with a tissue. “Not for the world.” The regret and pain I can see in her face is hard to see, but it tells me she really does want to change. She wants to make things better between us, and when I walk out of the dressing room I can’t stop smiling, because for the first time I really and truly believe things are going to be different now, and not just temporarily. My parents are finally accept me.

  When I step outside, Vanessa is waiting for me. I invited her as a bridesmaid, but never thought she would actually come. Yet there she is, blonde hair perfectly straight, white teeth, big brown eyes, and ridiculously manicured nails. One look at her and you would know she has never worked a day in her life, but she’s my sister, and she’s here. She’s even wearing the purple bridesmaid dress I asked the girls to wear, despite the fact that it probably seemed like a dirty rag compared to what she normally wears.

  She hugs me tightly. “Hey sis,” she says lightly.

  “Thank you,” I say, squeezing her hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  She laughs. “Well, you know. I was in the area, and I figured there might be some clubs around or something.” She pauses, pulling me back and grinning. “Just kidding, sis. I wanted to be here for you.”

  I hug her one more time before heading toward the sound of Roman on the wedding bell, which he must have rung ten times by now.

  I step outside into the backyard of my new place, which we spent the last few weeks turning into a beautiful site for the wedding. Practically the whole town is outside, and there’s a collective gasp when I step outside.

  Reid

  When I see Sandra, my breath catches. She’s standing beneath a terraced archway and her brown hair is perfectly straight, catching the gold of the mid-afternoon sun and casting it off in a bright blur. Her smile is brilliant as she starts to walk toward me, arm in arm with her father. Our eyes are locked. I don’t see the huge crowd gathered. I don’t see the rose petals scattered in the grass that mark the path she will walk. I don’t even see Roman, who is still going to town on the wedding bell.

  The next few minutes pass in a blur. I mutter some words as the urging of Pastor Morris, I clasp Sandra’s hand. I’m handed the wedding band and I slide it on her finger and she slides a band on mine. Time only slows down when Pastor Morris says, “You may kiss the bride.”

  “Finally,” I growl, pulling her close and kissing her harder and deeper than I should in front of all these people. But fuck it. She’s my wife now, and I’ll kiss her however I want to.

  I hear a few snickers from the crowd as the kiss drags on, but I barely notice. When we finally pull apart I hold her close, wondering how long I have to sit through the reception before I can take her to bed.

  It turns out I have to sit through exactly two hours and forty five minutes of hand shaking, music, dancing, and eating before I’m allowed to take my bride home and consummate the marriage. Roman is staying with Lyla at the bed and breakfast, and Sandra and I end up at her place.

  “Damn it,” I growl. “Getting into this dress is like trying to break into a fucking bank vault.”

  She bites her lip, reaching back to help me by pulling a hidden strap that loosens everything enough for me to get her out of the dress. She’s wearing the sexiest fucking white lace lingerie and stockings I’ve ever seen. I push her down on the bed, working my belt open and tossing it to the ground. I strip off my shirt and undershirt and then let my pants fall.

  “I’ve got the sexiest fucking wife on the planet,” I say.

  “You just remember that if you ever get any ideas about being unfaithful,” she says, grinning up at me.

  I plant my hands on either side of her, climbing atop her and looking down into her eyes. “There’s no woman on this Earth that could tempt me away from you, Sandra. Not a single fucking one. Don’t you ever doubt that for a second. You’re mine, sweetheart. Body and soul.” I smirk, biting my lip. “Especially body.”

  Bonus Content: Protector - A Second Chance Romance

  Thank you so much for reading Single Dad Next Door. I’ve decided to include a completely free copy of one of my most recent novels, Protector as a way of saying thank you. And in the shameless hope that you’ll enjoy it enough to check out more of my work!

  XX

  Penelope

  Prologue - Protector

  Ten Years Ago

  I lean my head into Jesse’s shoulder. In all my eighteen years I still haven’t found anything as comfortable as him. Even through the thick material of his letterman jacket and my cardigan my skin reacts to his. We’re on the hood of his old Camaro parked in a field outside the airport, far enough away from town that I can forget all the noise. I can forget the way everyone wants our relationship to fail, or the way other girls look at me now because they assume I’ve give
n my virginity to him.

  Friends I’ve had for years distanced themselves and people I never knew have come out of the woodwork to spread dirty rumors about me. All because they wish it was them. They wish Jesse had picked them. He never dated a girl longer than a week. It became something like a legend--a challenge for some girls. Who can tie down Jesse Slade? So when he asked me out, of all people, no one even bothered to hide the knowing smirks. It won’t last.

  Well screw them. Because it did. We’ve been together almost a year now. That’s all I need. I don’t need their fake friendships or their support. I have Jesse. My anchor.

  I steal a glance up at him in the same way recently engaged women are constantly looking at their rings. All these months and the fact that he’s still mine gives me a jolt of giddy excitement. He gazes out into the night, dark hair falling just above his shockingly green eyes. He’s heartbreakingly gorgeous. I could picture him in another time, donning Greek armor and a sword to lead an army into battle. He’s perfect. And he’s all mine.

  The stars are out and the night is filled with the sound of crickets and the soft whoosh of reeds.

  “I caught a bunch of those once,” I say, looking toward the fireflies floating in and out of the tall grass, winking in and out of sight. “I put them in a jar and set them by my bed that night. I fell asleep watching them, thinking how beautiful they were. Then I woke up and they were all dead because I forgot to poke holes in the lid. I cried for days.”

  Jesse laughs, flashing his perfectly white teeth. He nudges his shoulder into me. “Want me to catch some for you? I’ll make sure they don’t die.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t want to have to let you go.”

  “You won’t. Not ever,” he says.

  The rough fabric of his jeans presses against my bare thigh. His arm is wrapped protectively around me. My simple white dress has ridden up and I know I’m showing a scandalous amount of leg, but I’m in a dangerous state of mind tonight. It’s homecoming week and I know our senior year of high school is almost over. I know we could almost be over, no matter what he says.

  Jesse is being recruited by almost all the top colleges for football, and even though he says he won’t go anywhere I don’t get in, I’m not sure I believe it.

  “Hey,” he says, taking me by the wrist and flipping my palm over. He smirks down at my small hand. “You know I can palm read?”

  The eye him skeptically. “Is that so?”

  “It is,” he says, narrowing his eyes at my palm and tracing the lines with a fingertip, sending jolts of hot excitement through my body. He winces theatrically, tapping the place where two deep lines meet. “I was afraid of this.”

  “What?” I say, leaning forward.

  “This straight line here is you. The little lines branching off are the times you’ll stumble along the way. And this thick line here...that’s your soulmate. See how it curves straight into your line like that and then they join together?”

  I nod, frowning in concern. “What does that mean?”

  He leans back, letting my hand fall to my lap and making a show of looking regretful. “It means you’re going to get married some day.”

  I snort. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “Sure is. No woman is ever going to tie me down. So I guess this whole thing is doomed.”

  I slap him on the shoulder, sticking my lip out a little at him. “Don’t be mean.”

  He laughs. “Hey, the palm never lies. That was the first thing I learned.”

  I raise my hand threateningly, pulling it back to swat at him again. “Maybe you need a closer look at this palm!” I lunge for him, trying to slap at his face, but he catches me as I fall on top of him. We’re both laughing and breathless by the time we’re done, and I’m very aware of how much my dress has ridden up while I lay on top of him.

  The moment catches up with both of us and the humor leaves our faces. He’s leaned back against the rear window and I’m straddling him, arms planted beside his head, my hair creating a curtain between us and the rest of the world. All I see is him, and in that moment I think I could look at his gorgeous face for the rest of my life.

  “Would it be so bad to marry me?” I ask, feeling my heart pound in anticipation as I wait.

  He reaches up, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me down for a kiss.

  23

  Jesse

  Present Day

  Gunfire rips through the hot afternoon air, peppering the sandstone building we’ve taken shelter behind. My fucking arm is on fire; both numb and throbbing at the same time and soaked in blood. I can see what’s left of our convoy. One truck is a black ruin and the others are belching thick, greasy smoke into the air. I can see the bodies, too. Every one of them a knife to my gut, hurting more than a bullet wound ever could. Those are my men out there. Dead.

  All I can think of is how badly I want these bastards to pay. These fucking fanatical, ignorant assholes.

  It can’t have been more than five minutes ago that we ran over the first IED. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. A few minutes and so much has changed. The finality of it hits me like a fucking punch in the gut. Gone. Because I volunteered us for extra patrols. Because I thought we could use a little sharpening up after our near-miss on the catch and grab a few weeks back.

  Only two of my men are still alive, but they’re in worse shape than me. We’re sheltered behind a crumbling sandstone wall. Liam is lying on the ground, head propped against the wall, face strained and covered in dirt. He hisses as he tries to raise his rifle. Jake is clutching his shredded leg, free hand holding his rifle at the ready. My training tells me to hunker down and wait for reinforcements to clear the area. But I know there can’t be more than two of the enemy out there. I would’ve heard more gunfire by now. They are just two fucking cowards who set a trap and waited for us to walk into it.

  Most men would wait. They’d take the safe route. The smart route. But I’m not most men. And I’m not about to make the men who lost their lives wait a minute longer to get the revenge they deserve.

  “Hold these positions,” I say to Liam and Jake. “The cavalry is coming soon.”

  Without waiting for a response, I jump out from behind the wall. I run faster than I’ve ever run, feeling the bullets tear through the air inches from my body, knowing death is only a whisper away, but not caring. I’m going to get these fuckers, even if it kills me.

  I slide behind a building on the other end of the street, somehow making it there unscathed. I suck in air, risking a look around the corner of the building toward the hostiles. A man in white rags and a turban stands up from behind a broken wall, aiming a rocket launcher. I shoulder my rifle and squeeze off a three-round burst, but he launches the rocket just before I drop him. The black projectile trailed by a plume of white smoke hisses through the air, gaining speed rapidly as it rips past me. I turn my head just in time to see it collide with the wall Liam and Jake are sheltered behind. The wall explodes in a shower of rubble and dust.

  The pot of tea hisses on the stovetop, startling me out of bed. My Glock is in my hand and I’m naked as the day I was born. My body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat and my heart is racing. I glance out the floor to ceiling windows lining the far wall expecting to see sand and hostiles, but all I see is a concrete jungle.

  The war is over, I remind myself, at least for me. I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Four years ago. I lost my men four years ago and that was the point everything started to fall apart from under me. I thought getting out of the service would stop the flashbacks, but it only made them worse. The only thing that really helps is drinking enough to pass out and fucking hard enough to clear my head. I usually settle for a mixture of the two.

  I sigh, looking down at my hand and hating how good it feels to hold the gun--how well it fits my large grip. I tuck it back under my pillow and frown when I notice the pillow beside mine has a soft dent in the center. There’s a pair of lacy pink pa
nties on the floor beside the bed and a pair of black pumps.

  Apparently, I was drinking again last night. My only memories are hazy. Another bar somewhere, another woman, another night trying to distract myself from the past.

  When I got back a year ago, the war only came to me at night, haunting my dreams. Now even a clattering plate or firecrackers have me bordering on panic. They died because of you. I blink rapidly, pushing down the thought. Those same fucking words have been playing on repeat ever since that day. Time has done nothing to dull the pain they bring.

  I rub the back of my aching head, moving into the kitchen toward the hissing sound of the tea. A long-legged beauty with black hair stands in my kitchen wearing one of my t-shirts. When she reaches to grab cups from the overhead cabinets and I catch a glimpse of her bare, round ass, I realize that’s all she’s wearing. My cock doesn’t even stir. It seems like the only time I can enjoy fucking anymore is if I’m drunk.

  “Want some tea?” she asks. Her eyes wander my body hungrily, lingering on my cock.

  Hmm. She’s British. That’s a new one. “I’m okay. Why don’t you make yours to-go. You can keep the cup.”

  She frowns. “What?”

  “I’ve got a full day. So you need to leave,” I say flatly. I round the corner and head to the bathroom. I splash water on my face and look up at myself, wondering how women don’t see what I see. They don’t see the broken man just beneath the surface, the selfish killer who put revenge before his men.

  She storms into the bathroom, fists planted on her hips. “So that’s it?”

  I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “What did you expect?” I ask.

  She huffs, shaking her head at me in disbelief. “You’re a fucking asshole.”