Dad Bod

by Lily Kate

  “You love your daughter, and you seem like a good dad,” Emily admits. “You’re a ruthless businessman who owns a lot of shit and buys a lot of other shit.”

  I nod. “That’s basically it.”

  “I’m guessing, judging by how good you are with your hands,” she says, offering up an impressive eyeroll. “That you used to do construction or maintenance. Something handy.”

  “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” I say with a smirk. “You know how things go in Harp’s Haven; we fix our own shit. Lucky thing my dad taught me the ropes, otherwise I would never have gotten the gig as a handyman at my apartment complex when I first moved to New York.”

  “Until you bought the building,” she says, understanding. “Then began your huge-ass career as a real estate guy. You own apartments, land, and...hotels.”

  Her eyes narrow on me at the last word. I turn back to the washer, accidentally nailing my fist on the lip of the machine and cursing as it stings. “What about it?”

  “Why are you back here, Tyler? That’s the one thing I couldn’t uncover. Seems to be pretty hush-hush over at the Daniels Corp.”

  “Look at that.” I give the washer a firm pat with my hand, pop the front panel back into place, and press the start button. Water gurgles out of the tank, and the machine is as good as new. “Looks like we’re done here.”

  “Fine.” Emily doesn’t press further, understanding this is as far as I’m willing to go. “But if you think you can swoop in here, mess with my friends, my family, or this town, you are so wrong, buster.”

  The threat itself makes me grin. It’s hard to take her seriously when she’s calling me buster. I quickly realize that’s a mistake, however, when I glance at her face. She’s unamused.

  “I’m serious,” she says, stepping forward and poking a finger into my chest. “If you screw this up, you will regret it, Mr. Daniels.”

  I force myself to swallow and nod. “I understand.”

  “Great,” she says, all bubbles and smiles once more. “Thanks again for fixing shit around here.”

  With that, she bounces out of the room, leaving me alone with the washer and a bundle of new worries.

  Emily has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. If I want to start something with Maggie, I have to be damn ready to finish it this time.

  A creeping sense of unease slides over my shoulder, reminding me there are a few things I should come clean about to Margaret before we take things any further. Or, attempt to progress whatever happened in that laundromat.

  “Hey, Fletcher,” I say after dialing my phone and landing one of my employees. “I’m feeling much better—screw the sick day. Can we talk?”

  Chapter 11

  MAGGIE

  “Looks like you’ve got plenty to go around,” Emily says, peering into the basket where I’ve gathered the lavender scented towels for the second night in a row. “Dare I say you packed a few extra?”

  I can feel my ears warming. “Tyler’s in the most expensive suite. I thought I’d bring an extra for Jessica.”

  “That’s real thoughtful of you. Especially when I thought you might be skipping their room tonight.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Emily kicks the washing machine and, as she does, I notice the rhythmic whirring happening inside of it. “Seemed to me like Tyler was making up for something today.”

  “He doesn’t have to make up for anything. The past is in the past.”

  “What about the present? More specifically, this morning—in case your memory is foggy. I hear you had a visitor at the laundromat.”

  I turn, lean against the purring machine, and face Emily. I leap away from it at once as the vibrations remind me of the steamy moment I’d shared with Tyler earlier today in a very similar location. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  I flinch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What happened?”

  “He kissed me,” I blurt out. “And it was so great, Emily, you don’t even know. It was sexy, and hot, and sweet, and...” I run out of descriptions. “Then it stopped, and we went back to real life.”

  “Yeah, there’s more.”

  Emily’s not looking as surprised as I expected, so I flip the conversation and narrow my eyes on her. “What happened here is the next question. Did Tyler fix the machine while you grilled him?”

  “Essentially,” she admits. “And I think you should be careful.”

  My back goes rigid. “What do you mean?”

  “I just think...” she analyzes her next words carefully. “There’s a lot to Tyler Daniels, and I don’t think you should rush into anything.”

  “I’m not rushing anywhere,” I say, sounding excessively defensive. “The kiss didn’t mean we’re engaged. It just caught me by surprise, and I’d been having a tough morning already.”

  “And the rest of the day ended pretty lousy, too, didn’t it?”

  I fold towels, averting my eyes. “It wasn’t the best.”

  “Look, you know I love you. I don’t even have any real reason to dislike Tyler. I actually like the guy, oddly enough, which has me scratching my head,” she says with a laugh. “But I love you, and I’m worried. He’s in town for only a short time, and I’m not—I’m not even sure what he’s doing here.”

  I frown, puzzling on this part of the equation. “I haven’t asked about his job. I guess it slipped my mind.”

  “Bet a lot of things slip your mind when your tongue’s down his throat.”

  “My tongue! Emily,” I chastise. “Oh, right—I forgot to ask him if he’d stay longer. I’m sorry.”

  “Guess what? You don’t have to worry about it,” she says with a smug smile. “I threatened to fill his room, and he recouped his reservation. He’s sticking around, at least through the New Year—I guess we’ll have to play it by ear after that.”

  “That sucks.” If Tyler left town after this weekend, I wouldn’t have to worry about what had happened between us—he’d be gone, just like before. “It’d be simpler if he just left.”

  “I’ve never known you to do simple.”

  I shrug in agreement and consider this, wondering if I’m really upset, or if I’m just worried, like Emily suggested. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am jumping in too quickly.

  Or, I think, a new idea dawning—maybe this time around, I jump in with two feet. We could say to hell with putting labels on things and spend the next three months getting to know one another, having some fun together. As long as I know he’s leaving, I can protect myself.

  “Don’t think it,” Emily says. “I can read your mind.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “It’s different this time.”

  “Is it?”

  This time around, I’m armed with the knowledge that things between us aren’t permanent. “With an end in sight, what’s the problem with seeing how things go? There’s chemistry between us.”

  “It’s a bad idea, Maggie.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong—maybe it’s a great idea. I can finally put to rest my issues with Tyler. We can part ways as friends. If things fizzle out, I’ll never wonder again what might have been.”

  “The spark won’t die,” Emily says. “We both know it.”

  “Thanks for your advice.” I lift the towel basket, buoyed by my new idea. “I’m going to drop these off and head to bed.”

  “Sure,” she says. “But if you decide I’m right, my door is always open. And I have wine.”

  I offer her a smile, but I’m a blur as I walk out the door, my mind hazy with indecision. I climb the stairs, my legs feeling like lead as I stomp to the second floor. I deliver the rest of the towels first, and when my basket load is lightened significantly, I point my toes in the direction of Tyler’s door.

  Before I know it, I’m knocking on the wooden panel, and my heart is thumping. I have a half-apology in my throat, ready to call for a minor truce. For the sake of our girls, I tell myself. We’re two adults who should be able to get along,
and I’ll start by taking the high road.

  I knock on the door a second time, easing slowly out of the fog as I realize they’re probably not home. I didn’t see the two come back after school, and there are no lights shining from under the door.

  I give a final knock, my heart sinking. What if I’d pushed him too far this morning? Jessica did tell me that her father dates. I’m sure there are plenty of women here in town just itching to reconnect with Tyler in a special sort of way. Maybe he found one of them for tonight and dropped Jess off with her grandparents.

  Or, maybe the phone call from Anastasia meant something. Maybe there’s more to the story than I imagined, and Tyler’s not as unattached as I thought.

  With a heavy pit in my stomach, I back away. By the time I return the extra towels to the linen closet and bid goodnight to a concerned looking Emily and Luca, I feel downright melancholy.

  Mila’s just finishing up her homework with the help of Luca, and she trots behind me to our room, hopping in bed after brushing her teeth. Instead of climbing into my own bed, I follow Mila to hers and read three chapters instead of two.

  She’s sleeping halfway through the first.

  I snuggle lower and wrap my arms around my baby. Her heart beats against mine, and her breath blows soft puffs of air across my cheek, drying the last tears of the day.

  Chapter 12

  MAGGIE

  Saturday morning dawns bright and sunny, a perfect, crisp fall day that compliments my stormy mood. I’ve been plagued by doubt the entire week, having mostly avoided Tyler Daniels except in passing.

  It seems that we’ve come to some sort of a truce, yet some sort of a standoff. We greet each other in the morning, and we smile politely. And that’s about as far as we get. There never seems to be a great time to resume the conversation we ended at the laundromat, and the bravery I’d scrounged up the other night while standing outside of his door has disintegrated to dust.

  During one of our brief exchanges, however, Tyler had reminded me of his offer to drive everyone on our outing this weekend. Now this weekend is here, and I’m standing in front of my mirror wondering what I should wear.

  “Isn’t today about me and Jessica?” Mila sits on the bed, kicking her feet while I hold two different pairs of earrings. “I like the hoops.”

  “Me too,” I say, even though hoops aren’t my normal style. Hoops are a bit flashier, a bit bigger, a bit louder than I normally go with my jewelry.

  “Who do you want to notice you, anyway?”

  “What are you talking about?” I twirl to face my six, going on sixteen-year-old, daughter. “Can’t I look nice for a change?”

  “You always look fine,” she hedges. “But you never spend so much time picking out your outfit.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to impress myself.”

  “Emily says people only dress up when they want attention.”

  “Well, maybe you need to not listen so carefully when Emily and I are having adult conversations.”

  Mila throws herself back on the bed, outfitted in cute little jeans and a bright pink sweatshirt with the name of her rec volleyball team on it. “Let’s go, already. I want an apple.”

  “It’s not just about the apples.” I fasten the second hoop and wade over to the bed, easing onto it beside my daughter. “This is about you and Jess spending some time together.”

  “Her name is Jessica,” Mila spits out. “And I don’t want to spend time with her.”

  “She’s a nice girl, honey. Just give her a chance.”

  Mila turns her sweet face toward mine. When she speaks, the sweetness turns to a cruel sense of mischief that makes me wonder what’s happened to my naive little girl. “Do you like Tyler?”

  “What? No. Of course not. Who said anything about that?”

  “Jessica.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “That you guys want to date.” Mila reaches for me and plays with a stray curl that’s wiggled from my ponytail to dust the side of my face. “I don’t want you to date Tyler. That would mean I see Jessica all the time.”

  “Don’t worry,” I murmur, then pull myself away from her. “That’s not in the cards.”

  Despite the fragile nature of our politeness, Tyler had all the opportunities in the world to set the record straight. We’re living under the same roof. We take the same route to school. When he wants to find me, he does. Exhibit A: the laundromat.

  I can only assume that his standoffish attitude is due to the fact he doesn’t have an interest in pursuing any sort of relationship—particularly a romantic one. Too messy, too permanent. Tyler Daniels runs the other way when the C word—commitment—is broached.

  I fasten a necklace at the nape of my neck, another item I’d normally leave behind, and add a swipe of lipstick that’s slightly more red than my normal shade. Then I spritz my fancy perfume on, the one I reserve for special occasions, and take a deep breath.

  Despite all logic, I can’t help myself.

  There’s something about Tyler Daniels that drives me crazy—for better or for worse.

  “Come on, mom,” Mila yells from the front door. “You promised me an apple cider and pie.”

  “I can’t believe I had to bribe my own daughter to spend the day with me,” I say, giving myself a once over in the mirror before sliding into a pair of boots thoroughly unreasonable for apple picking. I’m wearing my skinny jeans and the softest fall sweater I own, and the boots go up to my knees with a slight heel. Ridiculous.

  “You’re bribing me to hang out with Jessica,” Mila reminds me. “I’d go with you anytime.”

  I ruffle her hair. She scowls and surveys me with a look of skepticism.

  “You smell different,” she announces. “And you can’t walk in those shoes.”

  “I walk just fine,” I say, wondering since when I’ve felt the need to justify my fashion choices to a six-year-old. “And this is the smell of perfume.”

  “I don’t like it...” Mila warns, unsure. “Don’t get weird, mom.”

  I brush past her, locking the door and leading the way to the lobby. When we reach it, both Emily and Luca’s heads bounce up from behind the desk. Apparently, they’re getting along today.

  “Babe.” Emily lets out a low whistle. “You’re one hot mama.”

  “Babe,” Mila repeats with a giggle.

  I raise my eyebrows at the two of them. “It’s nothing! You’re just surprised I’m not wearing yoga pants.”

  “I happen to think you look great in yoga pants.” The low, throaty tone comes from mere steps away. “Are you ladies ready? Jessica’s out front waiting.”

  I spin around, any normal response swallowed by my surprise at Tyler’s appearance. While I might’ve secretly dressed up for the event, Tyler has dressed down—and it’s everything I never knew I needed on a man.

  Worn jeans line muscular legs and ride low on a trim waist. His torso is outfitted with a luxurious-looking soft gray sweater. It’s long sleeved with buttons at the top, a slight hint of chest hair curling from underneath. He looks entirely edible.

  “Mom,” Mila says. “Say something.”

  “Er, yeah, we’re ready,” I mumble. “Are you sure you want to drive?”

  “No offense,” he says, leaning closer, “but I don’t think your car can make it to the orchard.”

  I manage a nod, still struck off balance by this entirely opposite side to Tyler Daniels. The past week he’s been so sharp, so professional. This bright smile and crinkled blue eyes remind me of the sunny days we had many years ago.

  His rumpled hair looks as if he’s just rolled out of bed, and it’s blissfully different than the carefully groomed style he wears during the week. And that damn sweater—I thought my shirt was soft, but his looks like a cloud.

  Before I know it, I’m leaning forward to examine it, not aware that my thumb and forefinger have grasped his sleeve and rubbed back and forth, feeling the material, until it’s too late.

  Mila reaches up
and yanks my arm away. “Mom,” she says, one eye on me, the other on Jessica as the latter appears in the doorway. “You’re embarrassing me. Don’t touch people.”

  I look up, flushed, and retract my hand. “Sorry. Um, I guess we should head out?”

  Jessica wanders inside, watching us with curiosity. It’s all I can do to keep my face a blank slate. Underneath, however, I feel electrocuted, as if the short brush of my skin against Tyler’s sent a jolt straight through me. It’s a sizzle that stings long after the shock.

  Tyler doesn’t seem to have noticed. His face is mildly amused, but he shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “Let’s go.”

  Mila looks to Jessica. “Is your dad embarrassing, too?”

  Jessica bites her lip and looks up at Tyler. “Sometimes.”

  Tyler’s eyes flash to mine, a look of cunning hope there, and I have to catch my breath. This is the first sign of a budding friendship that I’ve yet to see from the girls. I’m hesitant to rock the boat, and apparently, so is Tyler.

  “Come on,” Jessica instructs. “I get the front seat. We’re taking our car because it’s nicer. My dad says yours is a death trap.”

  I’m about to ask if Jessica is old enough to sit in the front seat, but before I can say a thing, Mila snaps back.

  “That’s not true,” Mila says. “And anyway, spending money on cars is dumb.”

  “You need cars,” Jessica says. “How else are you supposed to get around?”

  “They’re not a good investment.” Mila parrots all the logic I’ve used to explain why we can’t get a newer, nicer vehicle. “They cost too much money.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Tyler says. “Adults ride in the front. And Jessica, you’re not old enough to sit up there anyway.”

  The debate is settled, and the next thing I know, we’re piled into Tyler’s shiny black Audi and headed for the orchard. During the drive, I’m all too aware of the close proximity between Tyler and myself. All I’d have to do is lean over, rest my arm against the middle console, and we’d make contact.