Dad Bod

by Lily Kate

  “I know what you mean.” My breath sounds ragged. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Let’s keep things that way.” Tyler leans in, his lips hot, sweet, tasting of champagne and mint, smelling of his familiar shower soap and expensive cologne. “God, I want you so badly. What do you think this is in here?”

  Tyler reaches for the knob behind me, twists, and the door opens into a bathroom. We stumble through, and before I know it, he’s lifted me onto the sink, not bothering to close the door, and spreads my legs. He pushes between them, taking my hands in his palms and stealing kisses from me, my breath barely surviving in the aftermath.

  My jumpsuit feels like paper between us, and I’m so tempted to tell him to unzip me and finish what he’s started. I can practically feel him debating the pros and cons of the exact same thing as he presses against me hard, the friction sending fissures of electricity over my skin.

  “I love you,” Tyler says, demanding. “I need to have you. Again.”

  “We shouldn’t,” I gasp as his hand reaches between my thighs and strokes. “Tyler, we’re in public.”

  “I don’t care,” he nearly growls. “If I lock the door—”

  At that moment, there’s a shrieking in the hallway followed by the mechanical tone of a cackling witch. Strobe lights flicker on, brightening our near-union on the bathroom counter for the entire hallway to see. Tyler’s hand retracts at once, but he doesn’t bother to separate. If anything, he pulls me to his chest in an instinctive protective gesture and, startled, I have no problem burying my face in his chest.

  “Dammit!” a female voice shrieks. “They need a fucking warning on this house. I spilled my drink all over myself. That witch thing is stupid.”

  Tyler stiffens at the sound, though I can’t imagine why.

  “Stay still,” I murmur in his ear. “They won’t find us here.”

  This knowledge doesn’t seem to relax him. It only takes another second until I find out why.

  “Stand still, Anastasia—” This time, it’s the male voice that sends shivers down my spine. “I can’t help you if you’re flailing all over the place.”

  I turn, my eyes locking on Tyler’s as understanding clicks into place. Anastasia—that Anastasia. My eyes hold a question in them, but I’m too surprised to speak. Plus, I’d prefer not to be found dry humping on a counter with Tyler...by his ex. At my boss’s house.

  There’s a flash of fury in Tyler’s eyes, offset by a burst of apology, but there’s no time for me to decipher either before Anastasia’s voice sounds again, and this time, it’s too close for comfort. She’s found us.

  “Tyler?” she says, this time in a measured, husky tone. “Is that you? Is that...her?”

  It’s a good thing I’m wearing a zip up one piece because my knees are still apart and my legs are wrapped around Tyler’s waist, my hands on his chest. It’s too late for me to take back the pose, so I proceed to freeze in place.

  “What are you doing here?” Tyler slips out from between my legs, moving to a more appropriate spot next to me. His arm never leaves my waist.

  “I got invited to a party,” she says. “So I showed up.”

  “I didn’t know you’d be coming,” Tyler says, and I can feel him trying to keep his cool. “How do you know Claire? And if you were coming to town, why the hell didn’t you ask to see your daughter?”

  To my surprise, Anastasia gives a tinkling laugh, though it doesn’t meet her eyes. “It’s always about Jess, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he snaps. “She’s our daughter. She wants to see you. Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way here and plan to head back without spending time with her?”

  “I have to get back tomorrow,” Anastasia says, just as snappy on her response. “Jesus, Tyler. I didn’t come here for a lesson on parenting. Loosen up, will you? Introduce me to your girlfriend.”

  I wince slightly at the term, but when Tyler doesn’t deny it, my brain begins to turn it over. I suppose we’ve both told one another that we’re in love—doesn’t that make me his girlfriend? If nothing else, it makes us a couple, I think. Even so, we’re both adults—parents—and it feels odd to call him my boyfriend. He’d have been my boyfriend in college—now, the term seems inappropriate.

  “This is Maggie, my date,” Tyler says smoothly. “Maggie, this is Jessica’s mother, Anastasia. I believe the two of you met in high school.”

  “Of course we did.” Anastasia extends her hand across Tyler and offers me a shake. “I like your costume. Very fitting.”

  “Anastasia...” Tyler warns, but I wave him off.

  “You look nice,” I say, for lack of anything else to say.

  “Thanks,” she says, looking down at the itty bits of feathers that cover her privates, along with the glowing halo and the massive wings attached to her back. Apparently, she’s an angel. “I just threw this together.”

  I can barely suppress an eyeroll. She looks as if she’s stumbled off the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. There’s no way her outfit hadn’t cost a pretty penny and required some intense gluing and taping to make sure nothing inappropriate pops out when she moves.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Anastasia says, her eyes flicking toward Tyler before landing on me. “I thought this was Claire’s party. A work event.”

  “I’m Margaret’s date,” Tyler says through gritted teeth. “She invited me here.”

  “I wasn’t asking you—I know why you’re here, Fletcher told me everything. That’s who I came with. Fletch, where the hell are you hiding? Get your ass over here. They’re done humping each other.”

  “Tyler,” the man standing behind Anastasia says. He’s dressed in a suit and flimsy little vampire fangs, and is obviously trying to sound confident. However, even I can hear the fear underneath. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re not usually one for parties.”

  “I see you’ve met Anastasia,” Tyler responds smoothly. “Are you two just screwing for fun, or does one of you need something from the other?”

  I suck in a breath, but from the brief look between Fletcher and Anastasia, Tyler’s hit closer to the truth than I’d expected.

  “I needed a lawyer,” Anastasia says, “and he volunteered to help. Things...escalated from there.”

  Tyler raises his eyebrows. “And somehow, you wormed out private information about my business from my lawyer. Pillow talk?”

  Neither Anastasia nor Fletcher denied it, though Fletcher did cast a curious glance toward me. “So that’s her?”

  “Margaret,” Tyler corrects. “She is Claire’s right-hand woman.”

  “Me and Emily,” I correct, feeling stupid and pointless in this conversation. “We run the inn together. Claire’s essentially my boss.”

  Anastasia tilts her chin upward, surveying me carefully. “Ah. Not for long, I suppose?”

  “That’s enough,” Tyler snaps. “Enjoy your time here. We were just about to take off.”

  Tyler swoops me away from the situation before I can say goodbye.

  “Sorry about that,” he grumbles. “I’m ready to leave. Are you?”

  “Let me say hello to Claire, first,” I say, a bit alarmed. I tug on Tyler’s sleeve and pull him off to the side. “If this is about the way she acted toward me—I don’t care. I understand. Relationships with exes are...complicated.”

  “The hell they are,” he growls, his eyes scanning behind me as if he’s on the lookout. “Mutual respect—what’s not to understand?”

  “You know that’s not how it goes,” I plead with him. “There are emotions, and baggage, and—you have a child with her, Tyler. Listen to me.”

  He’s still looking savagely around the room, like a bull about to charge. Finally, my hands find his face, and the coolness of my palms eventually calms him a few notches.

  “Earlier tonight,” I whisper, our foreheads pressed together. “I told you I loved you. I meant it, Tyler—I meant it with everything in me.”

  “I love you,” he say
s, gruff. “I’m just upset. I’m sorry.”

  “You can be upset. But don’t interrupt me, please.” I give him a quick smile before continuing with the more difficult piece. “When I told you I loved you, I meant every part of you. I love the part of you that sneaks into abandoned bathrooms to turn me on, even when we should be mingling with colleagues.”

  This earns the slightest of smiles from him, bolstering my confidence to continue.

  “I love the part of you that’s protective of me and the girls, even when there’s nothing to protect us from. I love that you’re an amazing father, and I love everything that comes with that—I might not love Anastasia, but I’ll deal with her because I understand.”

  “Margaret...”

  “You don’t have to apologize for her, or protect me from her. Just be honest with me, and talk to me. Don’t hide things from me, okay? I’m here for the long haul. The good and the bad and the ugly. And the fallen angels,” I add as a joke. “Please, tell me you understand.”

  He roughly takes me in his arms, pressing a kiss to my mouth with alarming ferocity. As if he’s claiming me, in public, for the world to see—and though I first try to keep him at arm’s length, eventually I melt to him, not caring who in the world sees.

  When we part, his voice is gruff, demanding. “Say hello to Claire,” he says. “And then we’re leaving. I’m taking you home—we can grab a cab.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

  I find Claire over near a table with silent auction prizes—everything from free stays at the inn to a week of pampered vacation spent in this very house—and I feign interest in the prizes as Claire finishes up a conversation with an older gentleman I’ve never seen before.

  She catches my eye a minute later, excusing herself from him before making her way over to me. Claire catches me in a hug, her eyes twinkling as she surveys my attire.

  “I saw the two of you walk in here together,” Claire says. “And I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “Our costumes?” I ask, curious. “I didn’t think they were that special. I bought them off Amazon for twenty bucks.”

  “You and Tyler—a match made in heaven.”

  “You know Tyler?”

  “Of course I do!” She gives a laugh. “We don’t have to pretend. I was going to ask him if I can make the announcement tonight—it’s sooner than I wanted, but I don’t see why I should wait. It’s excellent news, if I might say so myself.”

  “What news?”

  Her eyes cloud for a second. “Dear, I sold the inn.”

  “What?!” My heart sinks like a stone. “Claire, I thought—I thought the bookstore was getting sold off, not the inn. I thought...” I press a hand to my chest. “There’s no warning. I’m sorry, I can’t breathe. I know it’s your choice, but...”

  “I thought—I thought you knew. I’m so sorry...please, sit down.” Claire guides me to a chair. “I thought he must have told you. He requested I not say anything so he could break the news himself, and oh...damn. I’ve really screwed this one up, haven’t I?”

  “Who? What is happening with the inn?”

  “That’s the great news,” Claire says, now looking extremely confused. “Nothing is happening with it—I thought you’d be pleased. If anything, you’ll have more freedom and more financing than ever before.”

  “But...why? Who bought it?”

  “Why, him, dear...” Claire raises a hand and points across the room to a man making his way toward us. “Tyler Daniels.”

  Chapter 29

  MAGGIE

  The room tilts.

  I’m standing still, but somehow, everything is spinning around me, spiraling, and the room begins to lose focus.

  “Maggie,” Claire’s saying, when I finally pull myself out of the haze a few seconds later. “Maggie, are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit down?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I set my first, and only, unfinished glass of champagne onto the silent auction table and rest my hand there to steady myself. “I’m just—sorry, I was surprised.”

  “I’m so sorry—I do hope I haven’t gotten Tyler in trouble. He seems like such a nice man.” Claire frowns. “He did say he wanted to break the news to you personally, and I can’t believe I’ve ruined it.”

  “No, no, you didn’t ruin anything,” I say, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and giving a squeeze. “It’s nothing you did. I’m just wondering how long it’s been since the, uh, deal went through?”

  Claire’s lipsticked mouth pinches in thought. “Let’s see. He first called me a few weeks back. I seem to remember we signed the paperwork not a week later, which would mean...oh, at least two weeks now? Hence the reason I figured he’d have told you already. His ownership is effective at the beginning of next year—I assumed he’d want to begin getting things in order as quickly as possible.”

  I nod, force a swallow, and fall silent as Tyler pulls closer. He’s been dodging and ducking his way across the room at top speed, and judging by the stern set to his jaw, he knows exactly what’s happening between me and Claire.

  “Ladies,” he says, once he reaches us. “Thank you for the party, Claire—I was just about to take my leave with—”

  “You can save it,” I say, my voice hushed. “I know.”

  Claire’s face crumples in apology. “I’m truly sorry—I thought this was cause for celebration, and...”

  In a burst of emotion, I pull Claire to my chest and squeeze her tight. “You’ve been nothing but a wonderful employer to me, and a kind friend. Mila and I both love you. You’ve done nothing wrong—thanks, for everything.”

  “Maggie!” Claire squeezes my arm, holding me tight for a long moment until she catches the look in my eye, and then, without further ado, she lets me go.

  “Maggie!” This time it’s Tyler calling my name as I dip away from him, weaving through the guests.

  I spin out of control past a goblin and a scantily dressed bunny, running head first into Emily as I reach the front door.

  “I’m going home,” I say. “Sorry. I’ll catch a cab—have fun.”

  “Is everything okay?” Her eyes widen. “I’ll go with you. Let me find my shoe, and grab Luca, and—”

  “Really, it’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder to find Tyler charging at us, breaking through the crowd, and I free my arm from Emily. “Trust me. I’ll find my own way home. Enjoy the party and tell Claire I’m sorry.”

  “What?” she exclaims, but I’m already gone. As I press out the front door, I hear her spin on Tyler and confront him. “What did you say to her?!”

  Tyler mumbles some response, enough of a response to get Emily to back off, I imagine, since he charges out after me into the night. I’m storming past the graveyard when he catches up, and I’m already flagging down a waiting taxi. Claire thinks of everything at her parties, including complimentary rides home.

  “Wait, please,” I say, ducking my head into the taxi as I feel a hand encircle my wrist.

  “Maggie.” Tyler pulls me from the cab, but I’m expecting it, so I brace myself. “Where are you going?”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I whirl on him. “Was everyone in on the secret except me?”

  “What are you talking about? Anastasia—”

  “Oh, don’t play stupid.” I cross my arms, backing away from the gorgeous cop before me. I’m aware how ironic this must look to anyone arriving at the party. “This has nothing to do with Anastasia.”

  Judging by the note of understanding in his eyes, clicking into place with the scene in the party, Tyler’s jaw clicks back and forth. “The inn.”

  “Yeah, the inn,” I practically spit. “When were you going to tell me you bought it?”

  “Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Happy about being the last person to know?!” I shake my head. “We’ve been spending every spare minute we have together for the last few weeks. I told you I loved you, Tyler. Why are you keeping things like t
his from me?”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Apparently Anastasia knew,” I say, and suddenly it makes sense. I jab an accusatory finger at his nametag. “No wonder she thought I was your date. The reason you had a nametag is because Claire invited you, and you just let me think I was taking you as my date.”

  “You were taking me as your date, Maggie—I wouldn’t have come here without you.”

  “Why’d you buy it, huh?”

  My question takes him aback. “The inn?”

  “No, your shirt. Of course the inn.”

  “Because...” he stumbles for an answer. “It’s a good investment opportunity.”

  “Bullshit. I know Claire wasn’t looking to sell it—she was looking to sell the bookstore. Did you buy that, too?”

  At his noncommittal response, I simply shake my head.

  “Oh, no wonder. That’s how Julia seemed to know you. I thought she just liked you because you bought a few books there, but no.” I shake my head more firmly. “You bought the entire damn shop.”

  “It’s my money,” he says, his temper flaring. “What does it matter to you?”

  “Matter to me?” I screech back. “It’s only my place of employment, my place of residence—the place Mila’s spent every moment of her childhood. No, Tyler, I know you’re not stupid enough to think that this means nothing to me.”

  A moment of utter silence follows and then, in a pained voice, he says, “I had to do it.”

  I wait for him to explain, forcing myself to bite my tongue instead of lashing out like I normally would.

  “Fletcher, the man upstairs with Anastasia, brought the bookstore and its plot of land to the board of directors for my company as a possible location to build a hotel. They would’ve gone for it, and I would’ve had my hands tied. I couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”

  “Isn’t it your company?”

  “It’s business. In business there are politics,” he explains, tight-lipped. “Things don’t work like that.”

  “I told you to go ahead and try,” I say, my voice a low murmur. “If you think you can compete with our inn, go ahead.”