I smiled tentatively.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I said reassuringly even as my mind whirled. Oh my god, my poor little charge. Her mom left and now she was acting out? Heck, any child would do the same, even if Vivian Parker had barely been present in her daughter’s life. Most days, as far as I could tell, the woman hadn’t gotten up before noon and left most of Vi’s care to a nanny who did everything, feeding, bathing, playing with her own flesh and blood.
Speaking of which, where was the nanny? Mr. Parker, reading my mind, shook his head again.
“Mrs. Bee quit,” he ground out, shoulders tense as he hugged his daughter tight. “Vi got to be too much and Mrs. Bee was sixty, she couldn’t manage anymore. So she up and left and it’s just you and me, right kiddo?” he asked the little girl, who burrowed her blonde head into his shoulder, refusing to look up. “It’s just us and we’ll be okay right, kiddo?”
My eyebrows rose although I tried not to look surprised. Mr. Parker had been raising his daughter on his own for the past couple months? That was a tough one. Even though I’m not a parent myself, I’ve babysat a lot and it’s not an easy business. Tiny humans are demanding, always needing to eat, sleep, get their diaper changed, and the twenty-four hour supervision is exhausting. So Mr. Parker’s single dad status must have been tough, beyond tough actually. He was probably bone-tired, with a headache, a walking zombie.
And he shook his head with a weary sigh.
“Alright, I’m gonna hand her over to you now because I’ve got to get to the restaurant,” he rumbled, glancing at his wristwatch. “Shit, Alexandria’s gonna have my ass if I’m late,” he growled. “Here,” he said, making to pass his daughter to me. “Vi, it’s time for Daddy to go.”
But the little girl shrieked, clinging to him, linking her small arms tightly around the big man’s neck.
“Nooo!” she screamed. “Don’t go Daddy, don’t go!”
I tried to pull the little girl from her father although it was practically impossible, she was like a barnacle glued to him. Her little legs locked around the alpha’s waist and she burrowed her face in his shoulder again.
“Nooo!” she screamed repeatedly. “No no no!”
“Come on Vi,” I said gently, getting in close and putting my hand under her arms. “Come on, we’ll make something really good for dinner okay? Remember how much you like peanut butter oh-ohs? How about I make you some and we eat them together? Come on, it’ll be fun.”
And despite the fact that I should have been completely focused on my small charge, I couldn’t help but inhale Mr. Parker’s distinctive cologne close up. He smelled so good as I wrested his daughter from his grasp, the soft wool of his cashmere sweater brushing against me, that square jaw and piercing blue eyes just inches away from my face. I blushed hotly, body heating and growing melty inside, quivering a bit at his nearness. But I steeled myself and shook my head. Get with it girl, I scolded. You’re here to help with a heartbroken child, one who has no mom anymore, and instead you’re thinking about the dad? Don’t be so shallow.
But I couldn’t help my body’s reaction because there aren’t very many hot men on campus, they’re mostly just boys, gangly adolescents with teen acne and wisdom tooth pains. And while there have been a couple boys interested, they were just that, boys, juvenile and lame. Next to Mr. Parker and his dark dominance, the guys at school reminded me of puppies, annoying, yapping at my heels, always trying to paw me. So yeah, Mr. Parker was a nice change, a real man who was assertive, assuring, always in charge.
But something was different this time. Maybe it was because I was standing mere inches away, my nose practically touching his, but Mr. Parker’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring, and a dark stain lit his cheekbones. My heart suddenly began pumping a million miles a minute. Could it be? Oh my god, was Mr. Parker aroused by me? By plain old Mandy Smith? My nipples immediately perked, insides growing wet from the realization that this perfect male animal wanted me.
But I guess it’s not that weird because I have changed a lot in the last year. Like I mentioned, I used to be really ugly and unfortunate looking. I was thin as a twig with braces, with frizzy brown hair and Coke-bottle glasses and no fashion sense. But I decided I didn’t want to start college looking like Punky Brewster’s older sister. So I got the braces removed and started wearing contacts, which was tough because it’s literally putting something in your eye, it freaked me out at first.
And somehow, as if sensing my desire to transform myself, my body began a metamorphosis too. I put on significant weight and am now curvy instead of stick thin. Fortunately, I’m young so all the weight went to the right places and I’ve got big Double D’s plus a wide, swinging ass, and thick thighs. Okay, I guess I wish the thighs were a little thinner, but you know what? After eighteen years as a stick figure, I can handle a little heft down there, a little junk in the trunk.
So I guess it wasn’t so strange that Mr. Parker noticed my changed body. There were boys at school who’d asked me out, making it clear that they’d be only too happy to take me to bed, do the dirty on our first date. But I dunno, I didn’t want to lose my virginity in some tiny dorm bed, so narrow that I even have trouble sleeping in it alone. And besides, on the first date? I have nothing against pulling the trigger fast, but still, those guys were so puppy-like, I couldn’t possibly. So I was saving myself for something more, for a sensuous, memorable evening, not some drunken fling on a hard mattress.
And Mr. Parker would be a good time, I could feel it in my bones. Oh god, if he took me to bed … oh god yes, I’d be so into it, breasts vibrating with his nearness, feminine instincts immediately attuned to his masculine dominance. Heat flared in my pussy, growing embarrassingly moist and I forced myself into the present once more. Mr. Parker’s way out of your league, I scolded myself. Even now, he’s probably headed out on a date with some gorgeous vixen, not a naïve eighteen year-old like you.
So as you can tell, I still wasn’t exactly confident mentally. Sure, I had a new body and some newfound attention from the opposite sex, but inside, I’m still the same old me, Mandy Smith, no one special, nerd extraordinaire. Shaking myself back to reality, I managed to hoist Violet away from her dad finally, and the little girl burrowed her blonde head against me, still sobbing, miserable.
“Mandy,” she cried through her sobs, “I missed you.”
And my heart immediately went out to the little girl. Shame on you, I scolded myself. Thinking about your non-existent sex life when a little girl’s had her heart broken.
And immediately I clicked into maternal mode.
“Come on honey,” I said, hugging her small form close. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll get you some dinner.”
And as Violet calmed, her little fists unclenched, lifting her head to nod at me with wide, tear-stained eyes. Mr. Parker let out a deep sigh of relief then before heading over to the hall closet to grab his coat.
“Thanks so much,” he rumbled, turning to look at us once more, his hand on the doorknob, blue eyes piercing, oh so magnetic. “I know I can trust you with Vi, Mandy, you’re amazing.”
And I colored despite my resolve to be easy-breezy and casual.
“Of course, Mr. Parker, it’s no prob, I love Violet.”
And Mr. Parker looked hard at me once before smiling, white teeth flashing.
“I know you do,” he said in a low voice, “And Mandy,” he said, clearing his throat suddenly, “don’t you think it’s time you called me Pete now?”
I giggled a little. I knew Mr. Parker’s name was Peter Parker, and it was so funny. Just like Spiderman?
He grinned knowingly.
“Yep, just like Spiderman, so I go by Pete, not Peter,” he rumbled. “So call me Pete from now on,” he said with a wink before softly shutting the door behind him, exiting soundlessly like a big cat.
I rolled the name around on my lips experimentally. Pete. Pete Parker. It sounded good and I smiled to myself. I really was growing up, if
Mr. Parker asked me to call him by his first name. And you know what? I was a big girl now … and ready for big girl adventures.
CHAPTER TWO
Pete
Holy shit, when had my neighbor become so sexy? The transformation was shocking to be honest. My ex-wife and I had used Mandy as a babysitter before, even as recently as last summer. But what I remembered was completely different from what she looked like now. I had a hazy memory of a greyish person with braces and frizzy hair, really skinny. That’s all I could recall honestly, nothing more no matter how much I tried.
But shit, that was all history. Because the brunette who’d shown up at the door tonight had been ravishing, really fucking gorgeous. Huge tits curved softly beneath her sweater, and a round, juicy ass stuck out behind her, outlined in a plaid skirt. And her face, but god her face, had been the stuff of wet dreams. Big, brown eyes gazed innocently and that full pout was straight up Angelina Jolie, if not more plush, more sensuous.
So yeah, my dick hardened immediately because who was this goddess on my doorstep? And when her mouth had opened to say, “Hi Mr. Parker,” I practically fell over. Mandy? This was mousy little Mandy, our old babysitter? Oh fuck, oh fuck. I wanted nothing but to cancel my date and sweep up the beautiful girl in my arms, but at that very moment, my daughter came barreling down the stairs, throwing herself into my arms. And good thing too, because my erection was getting really hard, poking up against my pants, so thank god there was a distraction, somewhere else for my babysitter to look.
But shit, back to reality. Because things have been hard for Violet lately. My wife, or ex-wife I should say, took off a couple months ago, leaving her little girl behind. I wasn’t upset about Vivian leaving to be honest, it’d been a long time coming, we hadn’t had sex in god knows how long, and barely even spoke to one another anymore. But shit, taking off with our pool boy? That was fucking unexpected because that shithead couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, and he was a fucking boy, for crying out loud. Vivian was into money and prestige, so what the fuck was she thinking, had her priorities changed?
But I grunted. Carlos had done me a favor, the final nail in a marriage that was already dead. But that didn’t mean that Violet understood any of it. Despite the fact that her mother had barely paid attention to her, Violet still knew that a major adult figure in her life had abandoned her, leaving for parts unknown. I reassured my daughter, over and over again, that her mother loved her, that Violet was her number one. But fuck, Vivian hadn’t come around for a long time, so those words were hollow and the five year-old could feel it, kids aren’t idiots.
So yeah, the tot’s been a handful since, acting out. My cute little daughter has transformed these last few months into a small monster, a tiny child who screams and yells non-stop, impossible to control. Even Mrs. Bee, our old nanny, finally had enough. The old woman has taken care of a lot of kids, hell she has five children of her own, but Violet proved too much for her. After one particularly brutal day after my daughter screamed non-stop for hours, refusing to eat, tearing through the house naked, Mrs. Bee handed in her resignation.
“Sorry Mr. Parker,” she said apologetically, her plump form clad in an apron. “Violet has been very sad lately, very difficult. Have you thought about taking her to a psychologist?”
I was stunned. My little girl needed mental help? Therapy even? Hell no! Suddenly I was overwhelmingly angry with my ex, really pissed that she’d done this, dropping her daughter like a hot coal without a thought for her well-being. And what the fuck was I going to do? I needed to work, I had shit to do, money to make, a household to support. But I couldn’t persuade Mrs. Bee to stay despite the desperate tone in my voice.
“Please,” I growled, “I’ll double your salary, even triple.”
The old woman shook her head regretfully.
“No, Mr. Parker, I’m too old and your daughter’s more than I can handle. You need someone else, someone young with more energy.”
I shook my head, frustrated. Where the fuck was I going to find someone on such short notice? Fuck, I was fucking screwed, and nothing I could say would change Mrs. Bee’s mind. But frankly, I didn’t blame her, Violet’s been so tough recently.
So after closing the door, I sat on the steps of the staircase, crouching, exhausted. It was just me and my girl, and the huge mansion seemed depressing all of sudden, gigantic and empty. Shit, maybe we should move to the city, all my daughter and I needed was a small apartment, we’d be fine without these extra rooms, spaces no one ever set foot in.
But at that moment, Violet wandered into the foyer, tear-stained with a stuffed animal clutched in her hands, and said, “Daddy?”
And I swept her into my arms. I couldn’t move my daughter, not now. Not after all the changes she’d gone through, this place was the only home Violet knew. So I resolved to make life as good for her as possible.
And it’s turned out okay, surprisingly. Violet goes to daycare for a half-day now, and I take care of her on my own for the rest of the afternoon. Fortunately, I’m an entrepreneur who makes my own hours, so it’s no problem. Getting my daughter onto a schedule, into a stable routine was more important than the fat cats who pay me the big bucks.
But I hadn’t had a break for months, and the rigid schedule was wearing me down. So when I heard that Mandy was back in town, I immediately dialed her parents’ house. Lo and behold, the teen was still babysitting and was happy to come over, even on short notice.
So yeah, Mandy’s a lifesaver. My little girl had leapt immediately into the curvy brunette’s arms, looking like she belonged there, some peace in my house after months of chaos. And it looked so right, so amazing, that I almost canceled my date, texting Alexandria to tell her something came up.
But I couldn’t because Alexandria’s been nagging me for months to get out, and if I canceled I’d never hear the end of it with endless whiny voicemails, pleading emails, and countless messages left with my secretary. So yeah, now I’m stuck meeting the woman at a restaurant, one of those places where entrees cost thirty bucks, of which Alexandria would eat approximately one fifth and then wave the rest off, focusing on her wine. She’s one of those high-maintenance types, the kind with weekly appointments at the salon for hair and nails, always seen with vampy red lipstick even when working out. In my old life, I would have been fine with it, hell, this used to be my “type.” But something’s changed since, I’m not into it anymore. It just seems empty, really fake and shallow now.
So I showed up at the restaurant, not expecting much, and Alexandria didn’t disappoint. She was six feet tall in those heels, dressed in some kind of slinky dress that was part-haute couture, part-showgirl.
“Hiya,” she purred, her green eyes running all over my big form. “How are you, Pete? Long time no see.”
I grunted low in my throat before giving her a peck on the cheek.
“Great,” I rumbled. “And you?”
She laughed throatily.
“I’m good, we haven’t seen each other, in what, six years?”
And I nodded. Yeah, I’d dated Alexandria before settling down with Vivian, and six years sounded about right.
“Guess life repeats itself, huh?” I ground out.
“Oh yes, it does indeed,” she purred meaningfully, running a long red nail down my sleeve. At that moment, the hostess called our name, leading us to the table, but like I said, Alexandria hasn’t changed at all.
“We can’t sit here!” she exclaimed, looking down at the table. It was set beautifully with white linen and a bouquet of flowers, silverware sparkling in the low light. There was nothing wrong. But Alexandria purred, “I want to be out in the open, you know see and be seen.”
And my stomach dropped. Fuck, this was one of the reasons why I’d stopped seeing the blonde, this need to be seen at all the right places, the right events, groomed to the nines on the arm of a powerful man. Couldn’t we just have a nice dinner in the corner? There was a beautiful view of the water, stars sparkling
in the twilight.
But Alexandria wasn’t one for natural beauty, she was a social vampire and nothing but “the best” was enough her. So I turned to the hostess and pressed a fifty into her hand.
“Another table?” I rumbled.
And the woman’s eyes lit up.
“Of course, of course, let me see what else there is,” she said, looking around the restaurant. Fortunately it was pretty empty and she led us over a huge table right in the middle where you had a clear view of all the guests, a three sixty sightline.
“Oh this is perfect!” gushed Alexandria. “Thank you so much.”
And I grunted, settling into the booth. This dinner was gonna be fucking painful, I could tell, dating is overrated. But I forced myself to eat and talk, looking exactly like an alpha enjoying himself with a beautiful woman.
“And then,” Alexandria said, leaning over conspiratorially, “Patty was locked in the bathroom, did you hear?”
I shook my head. Honestly the blonde’s babble was so annoying, like a bee that never stopped buzzing, and I’d tuned her out, nodding at all the right moments, but barely responsive.
“Oh you!” she breathed. “Of course you heard, Patty Martin was locked into her bathroom by her own husband because he suspected her of cheating with Grady Owens, his frat brother from college. Isn’t that so juicy? Oh my god!” she squealed.
I forced myself to look interested although this women’s gossip was so fucking boring.
“Oh really? How did he know she was cheating?” I asked smoothly.
“I told you!” Alexandria squealed once more. “He found a pair of boxers in their laundry basket with another man’s semen stains!” she chortled, laughing so hard.
This was fucking disgusting on so many levels. First, the thought of another guy’s dirty laundry was just fucked up, that shit was nasty. Second, semen stains? Who the fuck was dumb enough to chuck that into someone else’s laundry? And last, Alexandria herself, the dumb bitch was cackling loudly at her “friend’s” misfortune, relishing this Patty person’s problems. Even though I’m no angel, at least I keep to myself instead of busting up like a barrel of monkeys in the middle of a nice restaurant.
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