Single Dad’s Spring Break

by Rye Hart

  Hank shot me a look before he walked off, trying to find whoever the hell was in charge of this gaggle of girls. Even though there was a crowd of them forming at the corner of the hallway, there was one girl that seemed wholly unimpressed

  I turned my head and took her in as she sat at her desk. Her hands were on her knees, and her back was straight. She was scanning something on the screen as she tapped her long, slim fingers on her thigh. She was so prim and proper.

  She also didn't seem to be tripping over herself to catch my attention, which I had to say, was unusual considering the circumstances.

  My cock tightened in my pants, and I mentally cursed myself for it. Still, she was a stunner, I had to give her that. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a side-braid, resting over her shoulder. Her legs were long, and her frame was small, but with just a hint of feminine curves.

  “All right, Drake. There are a few girls here who accepted the job posting. I’m going to sit down with them while you stay here, and when I come back, we’ll have you a P.A.”

  “Who’s she?” I asked.

  The girl in the chair turned and looked at me, her beautiful green eyes connecting with mine as she cocked her head. She was studying me, her eyes running up and down my body. I was waiting for her cheeks to blush, for that goofy smile to spread across her face under my gaze like I was used to. She gave me nothing, and my interest deepened. Hank’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  “Delia Jakobson? She was one of the more qualified applicants, and the one I was planning to interview first.” Hank said.

  “Then the only way I’m agreeing to any of this is if you hire her.”

  The woman turned back to her computer screen, going back to studying whatever it was she was looking at before I had caught her attention.

  I had a plan. Hank was determined to get me a personal assistant. Fine by me. That didn’t mean I couldn’t make the girl quite after I gave her hell. The reason I wanted her was because she didn’t appear interested in me. I could trust that she wouldn't do everything in her power to get in my pants.

  This Delia didn't look like the type to fuck around, which was good because I wouldn’t feel bad about giving her hell. We were going to be spending lots of time together, and all I wanted to do was have her decide in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t work for a man like me. That was my plan.

  “Fine. I’ll go tell her boss that she’s our pick,” he said.

  CHAPTER 4

  Delia

  I had all of my paperwork ready for the interview as the elevator doors dinged open. I could hear the other women in the office squealing and giggling amongst themselves as they gathered at the corner of the hallway. I wanted to make it a point not to bombard him, not to act like his fame altered me in any way. I knew it would set me apart.

  I sat at my desk with my hands in my lap, reading the latest article on Drake Blackthorn. It was a review of his latest concert, where he had apparently climbed onto a giant speaker and picked a woman out of the crowd. That woman was pulled aside for an interview, and the things she was saying were interesting, to say the least. Tour busses and naked women, dicks hanging out and booze flowing freely, drugs being snorted, food being devoured, and the guys kicking most of the girls off the bus in the middle of nowhere.

  It was a terrible article, and it made me wonder if he had read it yet.

  As I lifted my eyes to take a breath from the article, I could hear the gaggle of women growing closer. I felt someone’s gaze on me and turned my eyes, finding none other than Drake Blackthorn himself staring at me. The miniature crowd of women surrounding him didn’t pull his attention in the slightest.

  His eyes were hooked onto mine, and I shifted in my seat. I briefly wondered what he was thinking, but from the look in his eyes, I could tell he was puzzling over why I wasn’t fawning all over him.

  I turned my eyes back to the article, picking up where I left off as I tried to clear my mind.

  I had to admit, he was sexy, in an off-limits kind of way. He was nowhere near my type and way too cocky for his own good, but he had a pull about him that was unmistakable. I could see why women went crazy for him. He was tall and strong. His legs were spread wide, showing off the girth that pressed against his jeans. Even un-erect, it still hung past the middle seam of his pants

  I side-glanced him, taking him in as he got to his feet. He began signing autographs as the women crowded around him.

  I was here for a job and nothing more, but he was going to be hard to work with. A job like this would most certainly pay for the rest of my college degree. It might even leave enough to set me up with a nice savings account to go into the real world with, but would the aggravation be worth it?

  I snapped out of my haze as my boss walked toward me.

  “You’re up,” she said. “Your turn to interview with Hank.”

  “Coming,” I said.

  I gathered up my things and left Drake to his devices with his fans. Even though he had been staring me down like prey, it didn’t look like he noticed I had gotten up and left, which told me even more about his personality. He wanted quick fixes to what he needed. He wanted my attention, but when he couldn’t get it, he switched into a toddler mindset.

  He went off and found the quickest source of attention he could find.

  I walked into the conference room, and a middle-aged man was sitting at the desk. He was balding on the top of his head, and he looked tired. I could only imagine the exhaustion dealing with Drake Blackthorn on a daily basis brought with it. I sat in the chair across from him and placed the file folder in my lap, waiting for him to ask me his first question.

  But instead, he began to rattle off a bunch of things he was going to require of me.

  “Here’s what I need. I need someone who can handle Drake. Someone who doesn’t mind standing up to him and telling him what he needs to hear. What I need is someone to make Drake predictable. He’s an unpredictable man who is tanking his image with the media, and someone needs to help him clean up his act. He has a problem he won’t admit to, an attitude that can’t be adjusted, and I’m fresh out of options.”

  “Sounds like a true southern gentleman,” I said, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

  Hank sighed and rubbed his temples. “Truthfully, he's not a bad guy. Deep down and all, he's been through a lot, and it's changed him. Not for the better, obviously. He's a drunk, but won't admit to it, and someone needs to help him manage his life, to get things under control before it ruins his career.”

  I'd heard about Drake’s downward spiral after losing his wife and daughter, so I knew what Hank was talking about. Still, it didn't give him an excuse to treat people like shit.

  “That sounds very challenging,” I said. Helping a man who'd been through so much, who was still dealing with the pain, wasn't going to be easy. It's also why I agreed to the interview. If I could help him, I could make a real difference. This is the type of help I wanted to provide for people, the reason I studied psychology in the first place.

  “Every other woman I’ve interviewed wants to fall all over him, tell him what he wants to hear and inflate his ego. I can’t hire someone like that. He needs someone who isn’t afraid to pop the little bubble he’s created for himself. I’m not just looking for a personal assistant, I’m looking for someone who can help get him sober.”

  “And you think I can do all of that?” I asked.

  “To be honest, I haven’t gotten this far into the interview with anyone else yet. Don’t disappoint me now.”

  “I don’t intend to,” I said.

  “Good. I like that. Okay. Let’s start with your credentials.”

  “I’ve been working with this company for three and a half years now. Always part-time, always from home. I specialize in time management and over-the-phone counseling.”

  “Getting a degree?”

  “Yes. From Vanderbilt.”

  “What’s your degree?” he asked.

  “P
sychology with a focus on substance abuse counseling.”

  “Sounds like the perfect person for this job.”

  “I’ve never taken on a full-time client like this. If you want to hire me for the job, I’d like your permission to use it as a bargaining chip with my professors.”

  “Why? You failing a class?” he asked.

  “No. But I could use it for credit in a couple of my courses if I smooth talked them enough, which would free up my schedule to do all the things you’re requiring of me. I have online courses I’m finishing up, but I had two that required me to be on campus this year. I could get out of them with this job if I phrased it as a paid internship. That would free up my time to work with Mr. Blackthorn.”

  “If it helps you with your own time management, I’ll write a personal request and sign it myself,” he said.

  “Anything else you want to know?”

  “Yes. How familiar are you with people who have autism?”

  “Mr. Blackthorn doesn’t strike me as someone who has autism,” I said.

  “Because he doesn’t. Are you familiar?” he asked again.

  “I can’t say I have any close friends who struggle with it, but it’s something I can read up on and learn about.”

  “Good,” he said. “When can you start?”

  “As soon as you need me,” I said.

  “I’ll need you to sign the NDA before we leave the office. Congratulations. You got the job. God help your poor soul.”

  Sighing, I shook my head as I stood and took the hand Hank offered.

  I left the room and went back to my desk, then closed out the article in front of me. I got the job. Holy shit, I’d actually scored the job. Drake was still enjoying the women that were gathered around him, oblivious to the fact that someone had been hired to whip his life back into shape. I wondered if he knew the type of light Hank was painting him in during these interviews.

  Hank gave me the impression I would need to be strong to corral a man like Drake, but I knew I was up for the task. No one ran me over, not even my professors. Sometimes it bit me in the ass, but most of the time it worked in my favor. My mother, despite her difficulties, raised me to be a strong woman.

  “Drake, I want to introduce you to your new P.A.”

  I looked up at the sound of Hank’s voice as Drake’s form towered over me.

  “Hey,” Drake said, sounding uninterested in the whole thing.

  I stood up and offered my hand to him as his eyes raked up and down my form. I held my head up high, waiting for him to shake my hand. I wasn’t going to allow this man to reduce me to a piece of meat, nor was I going to allow his piercing gaze to weaken my knees.

  Though as I watched him up close, I could definitely see why women were attracted to him.

  I shook the thought from my mind as Drake finally took my outstretched hand. The worst thing I could’ve done was allow my hand to drop. Getting him to shake my hand, no matter how long I held it there, established dominance. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction. Drake following my lead instead of me following his.

  I watched a grin tick Hank’s cheek. He knew what I had done, even if Drake was still trying to dismiss me.

  “Be there at six in the morning tomorrow. We start early,” Drake said.

  He dropped my hand and walked away as my eyes glanced toward Hank.

  “He means his ranch. The address is in here. Read it through and sign the NDA. I can’t leave without it.”

  I took the document and flipped through the pages, scanning the lines as quickly as I could. It looked like a basic enough non-disclosure agreement, so I signed and initialed where I needed to. I tore off the bottom of the paper that had everyone’s contact information on it; Drake’s cell number, the address to his ranch, and Hank’s cell phone number and email.

  “Good luck,” Hank said, as I handed him the papers.

  “Will you be there in the morning as well?” I asked.

  “Nope. I’m going to take a well-deserved break from babysitting. This is your show now.”

  After tilting his head toward me and bidding me a quick farewell, he scurried off in the direction of the elevator. This was going to be a bumpy ride, but it was one I was buckled in and ready for.

  Drake Blackthorn wasn’t going know what hit him.

  CHAPTER 5

  Drake

  The bourbon swirled with my coffee as I screwed the flask tight. I was still pissed that Hank hired me a fucking babysitter. I may have gotten my pick, but it was like picking the best from the worst. That was what this woman was. A glorified fucking babysitter to help get me from Point A to Point B. I didn’t need shit like that. I was a grown ass man.

  Hank could call this woman whatever the hell he wanted, but she was nothing but a babysitter, and I was going to make damn sure she’d want to quite. No matter how pretty she was, no woman was running my life. No one could run my life better than I saw fit. I’d only allowed one woman to have any level of control over me and she was gone. I’d been the man of this damn house for years, taking care of my sister and running the ranch when I wasn’t on tour. No one knew my fucking life, or the shit I went through just to keep the people I cared about afloat. Fucking tabloids could paint me however they wanted to.

  But if they walked a half a mile in my fucking boots, they’d be dead in the water.

  As I sat there, downing my coffee and bourbon, I hoped she wouldn’t show. I hoped she couldn’t find the place or got a fucking flat tire and was late. If she was late for her first day of work, I could tell Hank, and she’d be fired. He didn’t tolerate that bullshit.

  I knew. He’d lectured me over it a million times.

  I sighed as I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I brought out my flask, bypassing the coffee as I took another swig. The clock on the microwave read five-fifty-eight as a door slammed shut.

  Fuck. She was one of those annoying people who was always early.

  Pulling my ball cap low over my head, I pushed up from the kitchen table. The last thing I needed was some prim and proper woman clopping her heels through my damn house. Elsie was still sleeping, and Tammy hadn’t gotten up to fix breakfast yet. I was still exhausted from the meltdown Elsie had last night over the thunderstorm that had rolled through. Though I’d set her up in her own apartment close by to help her exercise her independence, she refused to stay there during the storm, and she and Tammy had both ended up staying the night.

  Making my way out toward the porch, I shut the door behind me. I saw the girl get out of a truck, stepping onto the pavement. She was dressed in a pair of boots, jeans, and a plain t-shirt. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had sunglasses on the top of her head. She looked different than she had yesterday. No heels or a skirt. No makeup or a nice blouse.

  It suited her.

  Her jeans molded to every single part of her; the light curve of her hips, the slenderness of her legs. Her boots were scuffed, worn down and broken in from years of wear and tear. She turned around and shut the door of her rusty truck, her tiny little ass perfectly rounded.

  Goddammit! Stop checking her out.

  Her eyes connected with mine as she grabbed her bag from the back of the truck. She was comfortable in her own skin. Maybe this woman wasn’t afraid to get dirty. Maybe she wasn’t the prim and proper little girl I had seen yesterday.

  I waited for her to come to me. I knew that little trick she’d pulled in front of Hank yesterday. Holding out her hand until I shook it. She played a good game in front of him, but she was no match for me. I was the one running the show here. This was my life. My home. My ranch. My schedule. My career.

  She didn’t own it, and neither did Hank.

  Soon enough, she stood in front of me. Staring up at me with her big doe eyes as wisps of her honey blond hair fluttered around her cheeks. She was as pretty as she was yesterday, and that was dangerous. A woman who could be pretty even when she wasn’t trying, was almost any man's downfall.

  �
��I’m already late gettin’ into the field,” I said. “The cattle need milkin’, and the chickens need to be fed. Fertilizer needs to be laid, and some of the empty fields need to be tilled again. The horses have been runnin’ all night, so they need to come in for breakfast. I’ve got a couple of foals that’ll need to be groomed, and their hooves’ll need to be picked ou—”

  “Mr. Blackthorn, I’m your personal assistant, not your ranch hand. I’ll be helping you with your schedule and various other things that have been brought to my attention.”

  Her voice was steady and girded as I leaned against the doorframe. I slowly slid a grin across my face, deadly and conniving. I watched my reflection in her eyes as she took a small step back, bracing herself as I loomed over her. She was small, which meant she was explosive. But even a firecracker made a loud boom before it was rendered useless.