Mr. September: A Single Parent Romance (Calendar Boys Book 9)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  I would have been out that door and then god knows where, doing whatever he deemed a good time.

  I could have wound up dead in a shallow grave.

  I set my bottle down and fiddle with the sicker on the side. “Seriously,” I glance up to meet his eyes, which are already on me, “thank you for saving me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t seen.”

  “There was no chance of that happening,” Olivia mutters, and Brody shoots her a glare.

  I still don’t know what she’s talking about, but she seems amused at Brody’s reaction.

  “It was nothing,” he says before he brings his bottle up to his lips and takes a long pull.

  It wasn’t nothing, not at all, but I don’t know how to make him see that.

  “I’m just glad I got there before you drank it.”

  I’m glad too, so unbelievably glad.

  “What a psycho,” Olivia grumbles. “Whatever happened to a guy actually being a gentleman?”

  “We’re not all bad.” Brody smirks, and damn, I have to agree. He’s not bad at all.

  I didn’t think the creep at the bar was too bad either though, a bit of a douche, but not the worst guy.

  How wrong I was about that.

  It just goes to show that I shouldn’t be out here. I should be home, in bed or watching a movie. Something tame like that. Places like this bar chew up and spit out naive women like me.

  “I think I should head off…” I tell Brody.

  I’m suddenly feeling out of place and a little vulnerable.

  “You okay?” he questions, his voice tender and his dark eyes gently probing mine.

  It’s sweet. He’s sweet.

  “I’m alright, I think it’s just time I called it a night.”

  He nods in understanding.

  “I’m going to call a cab.” I reach for my bag.

  “No.” he replies quickly. “I’ve got my car; I can drive you home.”

  I shake my head, even though I so badly want to say yes. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I offered. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d rather take you myself than have you get in a cab with some stranger.”

  “You realise you’re a stranger too, right?” I grin at him.

  He chuckles and runs a hand through his thick hair. “I guess that’s true, but still… I want to make sure you get home safe.”

  I chew on my lip nervously. I don’t want him to go out of his way, but at the same time, I really do want him to.

  “I live over on the east side,” I warn him.

  “I’m going that way to get home anyway.” He shrugs easily.

  “If you’re sure?”

  “Never been surer,” he replies with a wink.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brody

  “It’s just up here on the left.” Her hand comes through the middle from the back and points up the street.

  I indicate and pull my four-wheel drive BMW off to the side of the street just down from where she’s pointed to.

  It’s a quiet area, and the house she’s pointing out is a cute little bungalow.

  There’s a light on in the front window, so at least I know she’s not going into a dark house.

  “Thank you, again, for the ride,” She says softly.

  “It’s no problem, I’ll walk you up,” I say.

  I hear her protest, and Olivia’s snigger, but I ignore them both and climb out of the car.

  I open her door for her and hold my hand out to help her climb down – this might be a perfect size vehicle for me, but it’s a bit of a nightmare for people that are normal height.

  She gives me a heart-stopping smile as she places her hand in mine.

  Her feet are firmly on the ground, and I still haven’t let go.

  She doesn’t seem to mind as we stroll hand in hand towards her door.

  “This is me.” She shrugs her shoulder.

  “Nice place.”

  “It does the job.”

  We’re standing face to face, our joined hands between us, just staring at one another.

  “You’re okay to go in on your own?”

  “I think I’ll manage.”

  I chuckle. “Alright then, well I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Okay… thanks again, for tonight. For the ride… and everything.”

  “Anytime. You sure you’re okay?”

  She giggles. “Stop asking me if I’m okay.”

  I grin and nod. “Sorry, I’m just worried about you.”

  She seems reluctant to walk away, and I want to kiss her, cup her jaw, pull her flush against me, but I won’t. I’m just some guy she met in a bar, and she’s been through enough for one night.

  Our hands drop apart and I turn away reluctantly, heading back to my car.

  I get about a metre away when she calls after me.

  “That’s it? No kiss? You’ve been giving me that look, and you’re not even going to ask for my number?”

  I chuckle and turn back to face her, walking slowly backwards. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”

  “What if I don’t want you to be?” She pouts, her expression amused.

  “Sorry, Morgs, my mumma raised me right.” I chuckle.

  She pouts. “So that’s it then?”

  I shake my head at her. “I’ll call you.”

  “You don’t have my number.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  “It’s a big city.”

  “I’ve got a head start.”

  “And what might that be?” she asks, her tone sassy, and her hands finding her hips.

  I gesture up at the building behind her. “I know where you live.”

  She shakes her head in amusement. “Touché.”

  I watch her climb the few steps to her front door.

  I jump into my car and start the engine, easing forward up the street slowly until I’m right outside her place.

  “Can’t you just go kiss her already, you’ve been drooling all night,” Olivia grumbles.

  I ignore her. I’m still too busy drooling.

  Morgan has unlocked the door and is just turning the handle.

  I lower my window and call out to her, “Hey, Morgs?”

  She spins around, a smile on her face.

  I hold out my cell and snap a picture of the large sign out the front of her house, the one offering her services as a real-estate agent. “Now I’ve got your number too.”

  “That’s cheating,” she calls back to me.

  I smirk. “Maybe. But it works just as well.”

  She narrows her eyes in disapproval, but honestly, I think she looks pretty pleased with herself.

  “You can go, you know,” she says as she watches me idling in the middle of the street.

  “I’ll go when you’re inside.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m right here, seriously, it’s fine.”

  “Go inside, Morgan.”

  She looks like she wants to argue, and part of me almost wishes she would. I’ll get out of this car and put her inside that house if I have to, but instead she smirks, shakes her head at me again and disappears inside the house with a wave.

  I chuckle softly and head off down the street.

  “Well… that was different,” Olivia comments.

  “Shut up.”

  “No can do, I’m afraid.” She sniggers. “I’ve never seen you get all knight in shining armour like that before, what the hell was that about?”

  I speed off across town, back in the direction of my place. Olivia lives on my way home – in the complete opposite direction to where we just dropped Morgan.

  I raise a brow at her. “What? You think I should have let that prick spike her drink and say nothing?”

  “Of course not.” Her fist connects with my shoulder. “Don’t be stupid. But the whole walk her to her door and wait while she goes inside is very nineteen fifties of you. Don’t even get me started on the hand-holding and coy flirting.”


  “You’re telling me that asshole you’ve been dating doesn’t walk you to your door?” I attempt to change the subject.

  “I’m not dating him anymore,” she grumbles.

  “And why not?” I grin.

  She huffs out a breath. “Because he was an asshole.”

  I chuckle. “Exactly. And I bet he never made sure you got home safely.”

  She mutters something to herself, before switching the focus back to me. “So, are you going to ask her out or what?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  She groans. “Don’t be that guy, you should text her. Tonight. No one wants to wait three days to hear if someone wants to see them again.”

  I’ll definitely be texting Morgan. There’s no doubt about that. I just like to wind my sister up – she makes it too easy.

  I don’t know if I’m grateful that I had Olivia with me tonight or not; on the one hand, it stopped me from taking things too far with Morgan, but on the other hand, it stopped me from taking things too far with Morgan.

  Being a gentleman has never felt like so much of an effort as it did when I walked away from her.

  “Don’t worry, sis, you saw her right? There’s no way I’m ghosting.”

  “You’re such a guy.” She rolls her eyes.

  “What?” I chuckle. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t notice how pretty she was? Or that you didn’t think she seemed nice?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, she was super-hot, and she seems cool, I like her. Even if she has dodgy taste in men.”

  I pull up at the curb outside Liv’s place. “Are you talking about the dude from the bar, or me?”

  She smirks as she swings the door open. “Who’s to say I wasn’t referring to both?”

  “You’re such a bitch,” I retort.

  “You know it. Thanks for the ride.” She blows me a kiss, slams my door shut and strolls up the path towards her door.

  She might give me shit for it, but she knows damn well I always wait for her to get inside. It’s not just something I do for pretty girls I meet in bars.

  I wait until her front door closes and a light comes on inside before driving away.

  ***

  I tug my covers higher up my chest and stare at the glow coming from my phone.

  I saved Morgan’s number to my phone about a half hour ago and I’ve been staring at it like a chicken shit ever since.

  It’s been a while since I’ve wanted to ask a woman out on a second date – not that tonight in any way constitutes a first date, but still, it’s almost the same concept.

  I’ve been too busy the past three years with basketball to do any real dating beyond the scope of meaningless one-night stands.

  I’m out of practice.

  I could text Adam and ask him for advice – he’s a serial dater – but it’s likely to be ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’, or something equally as unhelpful and stupid.

  I should listen to my sister. She’s a female after all, and right now she’s probably my best bet.

  To: Morgan

  From: Brody

  Hey Morgan, it’s Brody… from tonight… I just wanted to make sure you were alright?

  It’s so lame, but I can’t think of anything better that isn’t going to make me sound like a desperate loser, so I hit send, despite my better judgement.

  I toss my phone on top of my covers and run my hands over my face.

  I hope she replies; I really do want to see her again.

  Maybe I should have asked for her number like a normal person instead of hijacking it from her sign.

  I groan. I’m so shit at this.

  My phone dings and I scramble to pick it up and unlock the screen.

  It’s from her.

  The corners of my mouth lift into a grin.

  To: Brody

  From: Morgan

  Hey Brody from tonight, long time no chat. I managed to get up to my bedroom and into my pyjamas with no further incident as luck would have it, thanks for asking. Did you manage to get in your pjs okay? x

  I grin at her smartass response. I know I’m being oddly overprotective, given that she’s a woman I know nothing about, but I can’t stop thinking about her and what would have happened if I wasn’t there tonight.

  To: Morgan

  From: Brody

  No need. I sleep nude.

  Her reply is almost instant.

  To: Brody

  From: Morgan

  What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on that wall…

  I chuckle. I like this woman. She seems fun, light, free.

  To: Morgan

  From: Brody

  You know, if you let me take you out on a date, you might get to see for yourself one day…

  I fidget with the edge of my sheet as I wait for her response.

  My screen illuminates, and I swipe it open as fast as I can.

  To: Brody

  From: Morgan

  Are you asking me out on a date, Brody from tonight?

  I grin as I tap out my reply.

  To: Morgan

  From: Brody

  What if I am?

  To: Brody

  From: Morgan

  Then I’d suggest you do it properly.

  I chuckle.

  To: Morgan

  From Brody

  Touché. You want to go out with me some time, Morgs?

  Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, my heart is racing as I wait for her response.

  She takes forever to reply, but when she finally does, the three words make me grin.

  To: Brody

  From: Morgan

  I’d love to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Morgan

  “For the love of god,” I mutter under my breath.

  I don’t know what the hell takes a teenage boy so long to get ready, but I woke him over an hour ago and he’s still not here.

  “C’mon, Ethan, you put on shorts, a singlet and shoes, it’s not rocket science. Do you really want to be late to your first training?” I yell.

  “Coming, Mum!” he calls back down the hall.

  I roll my eyes. Sometimes I still can’t believe someone let me have the sole responsibility of looking after a human being.

  I guess I’ve done alright, he’s survived this long, and with little to no help from his father.

  He bounds out of the room, the spitting image of the man who wants nothing to do with him most of the time, his height towering over me at only sixteen years old.

  “Had to do my hair.” He grins, his smile cocky and flicks his head, the hair he’s spent the past god knows how long styling, sliding further back off his face.

  “Oh, I bet your coach and the rest of your team won’t care that you’re late as long as your hair looks good.”

  He grins. “Thanks, Mum.”

  “For what?”

  “You said my hair looks good.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable, now get in the car before we’re late.

  “Another compliment,” he croons as I push him in the direction of the front door.

  He snags the water bottle I’ve filled for him from the bench as we pass and then jogs towards the door.

  “You need to chill, we’ve got heaps of time.”

  I hate being late, I always do everything I can to be on time, a trait my relaxed-as-shit son didn’t inherit apparently.

  We finally get into the car and we’re driving to the sports centre, Ethan rambling on and on about some new play he learnt at the training camp he went to last weekend, and how he can’t wait to see Hunter again – a kid he met at the camp that has been selected for the Tigers youth team with him.

  It’s not that I’m not proud as hell of him for making this team, because I am, there’s just only so much basketball chat one woman can handle, and I reached my limit about three years ago.

  Ethan has always been obsessed with the game.

  I think he’s moved onto talking about the training s
chedule for the season, but I can’t focus, I’m too busy thinking about the dark-haired man who swept me off my feet last night.

  I’ve learnt the hard way not to expect anything from men, they only screw you over in the end, but it’s hard not to see Brody as the perfect gentleman.

  He was sweet, considerate and protective.

  Not to mention the fact that he was completely gorgeous.

  He’s way out of my league, but he seems interested, so I’m not about to let him in on that little secret.

  “Just pull up out front, Mum and I’ll meet you back here after,” Ethan instructs as he points out the door to the building.

  “Nice try, kiddo, but I’m coming in to sign the permission forms, then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

  He groans as I pull into a park – he’s a typical teenage boy – doesn’t want his mummy going anywhere with him, but that’s just bad luck for him. He’s only got one present parent, so I’m the only option he’s got.

  He’s been even less impressed with me showing up at school and sports events lately since I overheard some of his mates calling me a ‘MILF’ – that was both flattering and incredibly inappropriate.

  “Hey, there’s Hunter,” he says as he glances around.

  He swings his door open and jogs off, bouncing a ball in front of him as he calls out to his friend.

  “I’ll just see you in there then,” I mutter.

  I grab my bag and lock the car before heading into the busy gym.

  This is the Tiger’s gym – the main team trains and plays here along with the youth teams, so Ethan has been buzzing about the possibility of getting up close and personal with some of his idols. The Tigers are his favourite team, and they’ve managed to get an ex player to coach the boys this year, much to the excitement of my son and his friends.