Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “I was talking about the view of the ocean,” he says, grinning and making me blush in embarrassment.

  No you weren’t. Asshole…

  “So what now? Am I just supposed to stay put and avoid doing anything remotely dangerous?”

  He moves to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and tilting his head back to drain it. My eyes trail down to his powerful neck as he swallows it down. Even his stupid neck is sexy. Jesus. I tear my eyes away.

  “No. I’m yours, Kay… Makayla. My job is to shadow you, no matter where that leads us.”

  He’s already moved from calling me Miss Pierson to Makayla, but I can’t bring myself to correct him.

  “That wasn’t the impression you gave me when you dragged me here against my will.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Well, I had to get… my dog from daycare and grab a shower.”

  “Your dog named Makayla. Right. I had almost forgotten.”

  His perfect composure falters for just a second when he steps toward me, still clad in only a towel, and jabs a finger at me. “I told you. The shelter already named her that.”

  It’s my turn to grin now. “Mhmm. So you just happened to pick the one dog out of a few dozen that happened to have the same name as me?” I glance at his dog who obviously has an eating problem. Her stubby legs are splayed out beneath her and she pants, eyes covered beneath the folds of her skin. “Not that she isn’t charming, of course.”

  Jesse frowns, looking at his dog in a way that is adorably protective. He kneels to scratch behind her ears and pat her bottom and oh God. If he just angled his hips a touch more toward me, I think I would have a full view of everything. I catch myself leaning to the side, like a bowler trying to urge the ball away from the gutter. I lean just a little too far forward and lose my balance. I have to jerk my body back and clutch the armrest to keep from falling.

  Jesse doesn’t even turn to look, but the way he bites his lip says he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. For the hundredth time in a just the few hours since I’ve seen him again, I can’t help thinking what a tremendous asshole he is.

  29

  Jesse

  Makayla is taking a nap on my couch and my dog is curled up beside her legs. I smile to see the old girl warming up to someone new so quickly. I look around the apartment, noticing all the small things that are out of place from her obvious snooping session. I knew she would try it, but when I check the hidden drawer in my room and see the hair I carefully wedge in the crack has fallen, I’m surprised. This woman is no ordinary snoop. Damn.

  She can’t have had much time to read the contents, but she will have already seen more than I hoped. Just holding the journal in my hands makes them shake. I slam it back down in the drawer, steadying my hand on the dresser and lowering my head, fighting the memories that are rising up.

  I’m covered in dirt and blood. My hand is warm. God, it’s so fucking warm. I’m pressing the hilt of a knife into his stomach and yanking up like I’m opening the thick burlap of a sack of potatoes. I feel resistance as it moves through him, hot blood drenching my hand. He tries to collapse, but I hold him upright, finishing the job of ending him. He wraps his arms around me as he dies, almost hugging me, like he’s afraid to die alone. I should feel something. I should feel sympathy, fear, anger, disgust. But I feel none of it. That’s what worries me. I end his life and let his corpse fall to the ground and I feel nothing. Not a fucking thing.

  I snap myself out of it, wiping the cold sweat forming on my forehead away. I went to war because I wanted to stop the pain losing my father created. I stopped the pain, but I stopped everything else, too. Being around Makayla is the first time in years I’ve felt closer to my old self, like part of me is still linked to her and how I was in those days. She’s helping me remember who I am, little by little. The worst part is I don’t know if I want to remember.

  I step back into the living room and stop in my tracks. She’s lounged on my couch, one long leg dangling from the blankets. One very naked, long leg. I take in the smooth skin that glistens softly and the way her calf tapers perfectly into narrow ankles above feet that are a little larger than average. Rather than seeing it as a flaw, I always thought it was endearing. Makayla Pierson was always seen as perfect by everyone, but she always had those slightly oversized feet. It makes me grin to remember the ways she tried to avoid me noticing when we first started dating. Always black shoes, never open faced, and usually a size too small.

  Before I realize it, I’m only a few steps from where she sleeps peacefully on the couch. Her golden hair swirls around her heart shaped face, framing the perfect picture of innocence it makes. Such an innocent face that you would never expect her to lie or snoop through someone’s apartment when they weren’t watching. Thinking about the way she tried to deceive me has me wanting to… I clench my fist. No. I’m not even going to dignify that line of thought right now. She’s a client. I don’t care how fucking gorgeous she is or how much I’d like to see those perfect lips wrapped around my--

  Shit. Maybe I’m going to think about it a little, but I’m not going to do anything. I can manage that much.

  I’m about to turn and walk away when her eyes drift slowly open and then widen at the sight of me standing over her. She notices her leg hanging out from the blanket and pulls it back under the blanket.

  “I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat,” I say.

  “You sure?” she asks. “Because it looked like you were thinking about taking a bite of me.”

  I smirk, rubbing my mouth with the back of my thumb and then biting my lip. God damn. What a fucking tease. She gives me a half-smile before it falters and she clears her throat. “Food sounds good, actually.”

  I’m a little surprised that she’s making it so easy on me, but I don’t fully let my guard down. “I know a place,” I say. “Just let me grab Makay… my dog some food.” I see her covering a smile as I head to the kitchen to grab my dog’s food. Okay, so what if the shit about the shelter already naming her was a lie. Her original owners named her Bat Girl, and I wasn’t about to walk around calling my fucking dog Bat Girl. So I named her Makayla. It was the first name to pop in my head, big deal.

  I use a can opener on Makayla’s wet food and pour it in her favorite bowl, giving it a fifteen second shot in the microwave, just the way she likes. I sprinkle a little salt on it for taste and stir in a handful of dry food. Then I set two treats for her on one of the bar stools. She has to stand on her hind legs to get to them, and it always takes her a few minutes to work up the energy to do it, but the old girl needs the exercise. I slap her plump belly as she waddles over to get her food.

  “Keep an eye on the place while we’re gone, girlie.”

  When I stand, the other Makayla is leaning in the doorway with a huge grin on her face. I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time to see she has slid back into her dress. “I never would’ve guessed you could be such a sweetheart.”

  “Shut up,” I growl, moving past her. I hear her following after me.

  “Do you always season her dog food?” she asks.

  I don’t even have to look over my shoulder as I pull open the door to know she’s still smiling ear to ear.

  “She’s picky,” I grumble.

  “You don’t think she’d eat whatever you gave her if she was hungry enough? Salted or not salted?”

  I sigh, increasing my pace as we walk toward the elevator, wanting to get out of this embarrassing line of questions. “She’s all I have. I’m not going to starve her.” I wince. That sounded way more pathetic than I intended, and judging from the look of concern on Makayla’s face, she picked up on every bit of it.

  Her smile is gone, replaced by a reluctant look of sorrow. “She’s all you have?”

  “I’m fine. Really. That sounded more pitiful than it is. I don’t need a bunch of people complicating my life.”

  I feel her looking at me, waiting for me to say more. She can
wait all she wants. I’m done talking about it. The elevator doors chime and let us out in the lobby. I motion for Makayla to wait in the elevator while I scan the room for anything out of the ordinary. Once I’m sure it’s clear, I gently guide her out by the small of her back. It’s habit, but when she doesn’t flinch away from my touch this time and lets me continue to protectively guide her to my car, I feel my cock stirring traitorously. The way the soft muscles of her back tense and relax with each step is making me think of how it would feel to squeeze her hips as she grinded into my cock, and that’s a thought I don’t need to be having.

  If being my client wasn’t enough to make her off-limits, the way I treated her ten years ago definitely is. I don’t deserve to be with her, and she definitely deserves more than my shell of a self getting entangled in her life again. But I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stay away. I might be too fucking selfish to keep my hands off her and keep my distance. I want to taste her lips again so badly it hurts, even if it’s just once.

  When we step outside, I grimace at the traffic clogging the streets. “Let’s just walk,” I say. “I don’t want to get stuck in this.”

  “Okay,” she says, oddly compliant.

  What’s more odd is she lets me keep my hand on the small of her back, and I don’t have the willpower to move it away. I lead her down the street. I’m wearing a low-key outfit of jeans and a black t-shirt and she’s still in the small dress from her shoot the day before. I’m surprised she hasn’t already been raising a fuss over going back to get fresh clothes. Most women I’ve met wouldn’t have left the apartment without fresh clothes, but she seems to be handling it. On a whim, I decide to take her inside one of the clothing stores we pass.

  She gives me a strange look, but I rifle through the racks and quickly pick out a light green top and gray leggings. I hesitate for a second and then grab a pair of boots too. She’s looking at me like I’ve absolutely lost it now, but I push on to the register and pay for the clothes.

  The guy behind the counter gives me a receipt, and I quickly snatch the clothes and hand them to Makayla. “Go put these on in one of the changing rooms.”

  She looks down at the clothes thoughtfully and then meets my eye with a daring boldness that has my cock hardening immediately. “What about underwear?”

  I clear my throat. “Go on then. Pick some out.”

  She smirks, slinking past me and picking out the most dainty little red thong she can find and a silky black bra. She puts them on the counter and then turns, waiting expectantly for me. I shake my head, unable to do anything but huff a laugh as I pay for her underwear and watch her step into one of the changing rooms.

  The changing rooms are little more than half-doors that leave me with a tantalizing view of her calves. I find my eyes lingering on that open space as I watch the dress fall to a pile beneath her feet. She kicks it away, and then her legs bend slightly and a tiny black thong follows behind it.

  Fucking hell.

  I turn to see the cashier smirking knowingly at me.

  “Fuck off,” I growl.

  He jumps a little, suddenly finding something to do away from the register. And away from me. I don’t look toward the changing room again until I hear the door open and see Makayla emerge. She looks ridiculously good in the clothes I picked out for her, and my gaze immediately drops to the way the gray leggings hug her wide hips and emphasize the perfect gap between her inner thighs. Knowing I picked the clothes and underwear out is turning me on in an unexpected way. It makes her feel like she’s mine. And that thought feels dangerously good.

  She gets a plastic bag from behind the counter and stashes her old clothes inside and then follows me back outside.

  I put my hand on her lower back naturally again, without thinking. I just need to be touching her. It’s a compulsion and I’m glad when she doesn’t stop me. The fabric of her top is thin beneath my fingertips and I drive myself fucking wild thinking about how good her bare skin would feel against mine. As we start walking down the street, I let the movement of her hips jostle my hand a few centimeters lower until my pinky rests just on the top of her perfectly round ass. I’m hard as a rock now, and mentally willing myself to move my hand away, but my muscles are in full-scale rebellion, refusing to obey any command that takes me further from her body.

  After a few minutes of walking quietly together, I begin to let my mind wander, imagining what it would feel like to have Makayla as my own. To walk with her out in public like this, just enjoying the evening and heading out to grab a bite, knowing that we might go back to my place later, where I could do anything I’d like to her. It’s a nice fantasy, but that’s all it is. I’m too damaged and she’s too different. We’re not compatible anymore, no matter how much the sparks seem to fly at the slightest touch. Besides, a quiet life like that is more than I deserve. I’ve done and seen far too much to dream of anything but more vice-filled nights and the regret that follows every morning.

  I have a job to do. I’m going to protect her. It’s that simple. The only reason I’m even trying to keep things cordial is that it makes my job easier and lets me be more effective. That’s all.

  It’s also a total lie, taunts a small voice in the back of my head, but I push it down. It’s the truth if I fucking want it to be. I’ve had to kill men with my bare hands. If I can find a way to do that, I can find a way to stop letting my dirty fantasies get in the way of the fucking job I have to do. This is ridiculous.

  We reach Z Shack, my favorite burger place. It’s jammed between a dry-cleaner’s and one of those scammy loan places. The windows are tinted, but when we step inside the bright lights of a dozen huge TV screens provide all the light the place needs. Servers in black shirts and jeans scramble around, grabbing to-go boxes and making milkshakes or taking orders.

  I guide Makayla to the register, reluctantly taking my hand from her back to grab a menu and show her. “Just about everything is good,” I say. “But the Swamp Thing is my favorite.”

  She gives me a strange look. “Sounds appetizing.”

  “It is. Pulled barbeque pork and a burger patty with Z sauce.”

  “What’s Z sauce?” she asks, having to raise her voice as the patrons cheer over something that happens in one of the games playing over the TVs.

  “Delicious,” I say, smirking.

  She rolls her eyes, but smiles. She reaches for her wallet and I stop her with a quick hand. “It’s on me,” I say.

  “No, it’s okay, I can pay,” she says. “You already bought me this outfit. Which is really nice by the way. Thank you.”

  “For what I’m charging you, the least I can do is buy you a burger and a change of clothes.”

  She bites her lip and gives in, waiting behind me. I take the liberty of ordering the Swamp Thing for her. I know she’ll love it. She doesn’t complain when I add Oreo cheesecake milkshakes to the order either.

  We find a place to sit while we wait for our food. Makayla is frowning at me, looking a little confused. “Do you normally eat like this?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Well, it’s just that you’re… you know. I don’t get how you can eat like this and still be…”

  “Still be…” I prompt, trying not to revel in her discomfort too much.

  “You know,” she says. “You just. Well. You’re put together nicely.” She clears her throat and sits back, eyes widening a little as she likely replays what she just said to her own horror.

  I bark a laugh. “Is that movie star slang?”

  “I’ve never been in a movie. Just television.”

  “You’re not happy doing television?”

  She shakes her head as she fiddles with the roll of silverware on the table, plucking at the sticker holding the napkins together. “I love working on the show.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” I say sarcastically.

  She laughs, stealing a glance at me and looking back down. “Really. I can’t complain. There are so many
people who would kill to be doing what I’m doing.”

  “That means you have to like it?” I ask.

  She scowls at me. “No. It’s just that it makes me feel selfish for not being satisfied.”

  “Fuck that,” I say. “If you want it, don’t stop going after it.”

  She finally looks up at me, saying nothing for a long moment. A young girl drops our food off. Makayla’s eyes widen as she takes in the burger and shake. “This does look good.”

  We spend a few minutes quietly enjoying our food. I forgot how much she and I always clicked. I hate talking while I’m eating, and she was always the same. We could just eat in relative peace, enjoying our food and talking after. She glances up at me, eyes sparkling as if she just thought of the exact same thing. There’s a glob of orange Z sauce at the corner of her mouth as she smiles.

  I reach across the table and swipe it away with my thumb without thinking, licking the sauce from my finger. My unthinking gesture feels a hell of a lot more seductive than I planned, and judging by the way her chest is practically heaving, she thought so too. My cock stirs and I shift in my seat.

  I’m about to apologize and set the record straight, to tell her that I don’t get involved with clients, but something outside the window catches my eye. A flash of gold. I just barely see the two pointed goat horns on a golden mask tucked in a man’s inner jacket pocket. I jolt upright, jostling the table. I rush outside the restaurant and hear Makayla coming after me.

  “Wait here!” I growl at her.

  I burst out the door, find the man, and slow my pace just enough to avoid catching his attention before I want to. I walk right up behind him, putting my hand on the back of his neck. The street is relatively crowded, and I can avoid causing a scene if I play my cards right.

  “Make a sound and I’ll snap your fucking neck,” I say into his ear, still walking beside him.

  He moves his eyes toward me. “You must have the wrong guy,” he says. He’s probably in his twenties. He’s relatively built and his mannerisms mark him as former or current military to me. What the fuck is a soldier doing playing this stupid game?