One Hot Daddy: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Kira Blakely

  But I was getting to drive a car myself now. The small pleasures in life, I thought and smiled again. I’d ditched my usual chauffeur back in California, and I decided to pretend that I was a free man. It’s not as though anyone here would recognize me. Unless the cameras had followed me to this place, too. But for now, it seemed like they’d lost the trail, and I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

  I felt truly alone in this place, and it was exhilarating.

  Seven more days of this, and then back to the grind again. Back to wearing three-piece tailored suits, attending charity events and shaking hands with people who were potentially going to be good for business. Not to mention, back to the women I had left behind. I didn’t want to have to think about Sarah or Maria. Mother had picked the two out for me as potential wives.

  “Either will make a suitable bride for you. They both come from distinguished families. Russian lineages like ours,” she had said, sipping on her brandy from a crystal glass.

  Father had nodded. “Enough of your fooling around, son. It’s time to settle down.”

  I was running away from Sarah and Maria, too. I didn’t have feelings for either one of them. In fact, that was another thing I hadn’t done in a while… had feelings for a woman. Both women were upstanding, accomplished women, and undoubtedly beautiful, but was I prepared to marry one of them? Blonde Sarah Popov designed and decorated homes for celebrities, and thin-lipped Maria Smirnov attended polo matches for a living, or so it appeared. My family didn’t care about my happiness; they just wanted me to wed whoever would benefit our family the most financially. I had spent too many years trying to find the right woman, one I could actually love. I was close to giving up now.

  I ran my fingers through my thick dark hair. Returning to California would mean facing all that, being bombarded with the pressures of pleasing my family. No wonder my temples were already graying; it was like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I didn’t want to leave just yet. I wanted to remain here, surrounded by the mountains and the forests, be lost in the namelessness for a while longer. Away from making any life-changing decisions.

  I had been driving the only high-end car available for rent in the town, a Mercedes, for miles. Not a single vehicle had passed me yet. Now, in the distance, I could see a beat-up old car parked on the side of the road. I started slowing down when I saw a woman standing beside it, with her hands on her hips, blowing misty clouds out of her mouth like she was huffing and puffing on purpose.

  Even as I drove toward her, I was quick to notice the shapeliness of her long legs, clad as they were in faded jeans. She was dressed casually, simply, like she hadn’t a care in the world. Her jet-black sweater matched her unruly dark curls, which fell around her shoulders. Her cheeks and lips were a bright pink, just like the top peeking out from under her sweater. How long had she been standing out there in the cold? Just staring at her car? Was it a flat tire?

  I slowed down to a near stop behind her, but it seemed like she still hadn’t noticed me. Lost in her own world… what was she thinking?

  It was only when I stopped the car, unclicked my seatbelt and opened my door, that she looked up at me. Her eyes caught me by surprise. A smoky hazel, would be the only way I could describe them. They were narrowed and suddenly very focused, like she was annoyed with me for having interrupted her peaceful meditation.

  “Hi,” I greeted her with a friendly wave, shutting the car door behind me. She remained standing where she was, with her hands on her hips. “What have you got here?” I asked, smiling widely at her.

  She wasn’t smiling back.

  Gemma

  When I saw him getting out of his sleek silver Mercedes, I thought I was dreaming. He was tall, with broad rippling shoulders, and his dark hair was longish, just about grazing his shoulders. He was smiling and had said something polite, while taking a few long steps in my direction. I was still slightly dazed, reeling from all my tumultuous thoughts.

  I was slightly shocked to see a stranger stepping out of a Mercedes, and more shocked because this stranger looked like he could grace a magazine cover.

  His face was chiseled — an angular jaw, a sharp pointy nose, ridged brows and a long slanting forehead. His eyes matched his hair, a shining obsidian black. He had day-old stubble and deep dimples marked both his cheeks. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt, with his sleeves rolled up. But he wasn’t fooling me, those were definitely not his work clothes.

  “Can I help you with that?” he asked, walking up to my car. I followed his every movement with my eyes. The way his long athletic legs moved, the muscles on his shoulders, how large his hands were. He placed one on the trunk of my car.

  “I can manage, thanks,” I said, forcing myself to snap out of the embarrassingly lustful thoughts I was having of him. This was no time to gawk at a stranger. I was still late for work.

  The man didn’t make a move, despite what I had just said.

  “Are you sure? Is it your tire?” he asked.

  I dropped my hands from my hips. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s my tire, and I’ll change it,” I snapped, surprising even myself with the tone of my voice.

  His dark glittering eyes focused on me, on my body. It was like he was assessing me with a keen trained gaze, trying to figure out my shape under my clothes. That smile lingered on his face, and the dimples remained. Despite the mature look on his face and the dusting of gray around his temples, those dimples added a boyish charm to his appearance. I had to shake my head to get the thoughts out of my head.

  “Is the spare in your trunk? Pop it open; I’ll haul it out for you,” he said.

  I shook my head vigorously. “I can do it myself, thanks. You can leave now, I can manage.” My words came out in a jumble as he disoriented me further. As if the messed-up thoughts in my head hadn’t been enough. He remained where he was, with his hand on the trunk and I walked over to it. We were very close now and he stood his ground, not moving an inch. I couldn’t reach the clasp on my trunk because of him.

  “I’m just trying to help. It’ll only take a couple of minutes if you just let me,” he said, a little authoritatively now. He seemed like a man who was used to getting his way.

  “I know how much time it’ll take; I’ve done this before,” I snapped at him again. From the looks of him, I’d probably changed more tires than he had.

  “But I’m here now, and I can do it for you,” he insisted and I got a whiff of his cologne as he remained standing in front of me. A strong musky masculine smell, like cedar. A scent that suited him. Up close, I could see his rugged bronze skin, the way his shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest. I didn’t even want to allow my brain to think about whether he had a six-pack hiding under that shirt.

  He must have seen my cheeks flush because his smile widened.

  “I’m not trying to be pushy, but I think you should just let me do it,” he said, finally moving his hand from the trunk.

  “Why should I just let you do it? I’m telling you I’ve done this before and I can do it again,” I said, crossing my arms over my breasts. His gaze dropped briefly to them, and then he looked up at my face again. His smile hadn’t faltered for a second.

  “You seem like a girl who is very hard to please,” he said then, in a slow drawl. I noticed the way his eyes glimmered. What was he trying to imply?

  I shot him a fiery look and sensed my nostrils flaring. The mix of emotions from being so painfully attracted to his body, while at the same time trying to prove my point had taken complete control over me.

  “Maybe you’re just used to girls who are pleased with one grand masculine gesture. Changing my tire isn’t exactly impressive,” I said, meeting his eyes with assertiveness. His brows arched, and his lips stretched farther. For some reason, he was enjoying this. Enjoying wasting my time.

  “It’s cute that you think I’m trying to impress you,” he said, in a deep calm voice. It was like he only spoke in that even smooth decibel. It was hard to imag
ine this man angry or short tempered. But I knew better than to judge someone at face value.

  “Why are you insisting on changing my tire then?” I asked.

  His dark wavy hair shook as he laughed loudly, the sound ringing in my ears like a merry song. It was infectious and even though I had no reason to, I nearly laughed myself.

  “Because I’m trying to be helpful. Jesus! What’s happened to chivalry?” he asked, shaking his head as his laughter began to die down. When I didn’t reply, he took a step away from the trunk and extended his hand toward it.

  “Go ahead, feel free to change your own tire. I won’t stand in the way.” He looked at me with amusement in his eyes. Like he wasn’t buying that I could do it myself.

  I shrugged, in a show of passive aggressiveness, and popped open the trunk. The spare tire was at the bottom and I pulled at it, aware that my butt was sticking up in the air as I bent into the trunk. I could sense that his eyes were on me, on my butt, and that he was smiling. What was he still doing here? Why wasn’t he just driving away?

  I tugged and pulled at the tire, but I could only manage to lift it up a few inches. I’d forgotten how heavy these things were, and besides, I was self-conscious. I was worried about my sweater and top riding up, my jeans sliding down, this gorgeous man seeing my thong. I wasn’t comfortable; I couldn’t get down and dirty with this thing.

  “Do you mind just leaving?” I said in an unfriendly voice, whipping around to look at him.

  He was standing with that same dimpled smile on his face, enjoying himself.

  “Why? What’s the problem?” he asked innocently, about to break into another laugh.

  “I just need some privacy,” I said, glaring at him.

  “To change your tire?” he asked, with mock-shock. The more my nostrils flared and my cheeks burned, the more fun he was having.

  “You can go. I don’t need your help. I’ll be able to work better without the distraction,” I said in irritation. His unearthly handsome face was a distraction; that was the truth.

  “I didn’t realize I was distracting you. I haven’t even flexed my muscles yet,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  I sighed deeply and met his eyes with a fiery narrowed gaze. “You are distracting me by talking.”

  “Fine, I won’t say a word. You won’t hear a peep from me,” he said with a chuckle.

  “And also by looking at me,” I added.

  He let out a short laugh. “I can’t help myself,” he replied, running his eyes meaningfully all over my body, before resting them on my face again, “but if you insist, I’ll turn away.” With that, he turned around, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I gulped. What the hell was happening? What was this guy playing at? I turned back to the trunk and started tugging at the tire again. This time, I managed to lift it out, and just as I took a step in the other direction, it slipped out of my hands, rolling and bouncing on the ground. He turned around just in time and grabbed it with both hands.

  “You were planning on carrying it with those dainty arms all the way to the front of the car?” he asked, smiling up at me. He had a smug look on his face. I was embarrassed and pissed off.

  “You know, you could just roll it like this to the front, yeah?” he added and demonstrated it to me, rolling the tire out to the front wheel.

  “I knew that; I was just lifting it out. I can do the rest,” I said and the guy let the tire fall from his hands. He straightened his back and turned to look at me. The smile on his face had dropped a little; he looked slightly confused.

  “I don’t get what the problem is; it’s not like I’m harming you in any way,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned. Like he was worried for my welfare.

  I crossed my brows, challenging him with my eyes again. Who did he think he was? A rich handsome tourist who could just come over here and start changing everyone’s tires and stealing hearts?

  “Why do you want to change it?” I asked, realizing that this was getting silly now.

  “Because it would already be done, if we weren’t standing here bickering over who gets to do it,” he said, with a gentle head shake that told me he thought my behavior was childish. His shoulders looked wide and strong. He could probably change my tires without even using both his hands. He had an athlete’s body and a supermodel’s face. The car he was driving gave away his financial status. It was hard for me to not judge him. It was difficult for me to not be suspicious of why he had stopped at the side of the road to help someone driving a car like mine.

  He was looking back at me with a certain softness in his eyes. Like he wasn’t telling me something, a secret reason why he wanted to change my tire. And he was also right about the other thing; if I had let him do it in the first place, we could have been over and done with this already.

  The time! What was the time? I looked at my watch and pressed my eyes shut and cursed silently in my head.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked and my eyes flew open to look at him.

  “I’m like forty minutes late for work now,” I said in a miserable voice that made him raise his eyebrows.

  “Okay, get in my car. I’ll drive you to work and you can call a tow service to come pick your car up later,” he said, and without waiting for a response from me, he was already walking away to his car.

  I didn’t want to have to admit to him that I couldn’t afford a tow service. If he was offering me a ride to work, I had no choice but to take it. I could always come back later and change the tire without him; without his hawk eyes watching my every move.

  So, I followed him, into his sleek silver Mercedes that was filled with the scent of the same intoxicating cologne.

  Vincent

  She looked small and delicate sitting inside my car, despite the quick-tempered fiery personality I had been privy to outside. I had just started my engine, and I quickly glanced at her beside me. She was sitting with her long legs crossed. I could tell her heart was racing a mile a minute. I had this sudden incredible urge to just throw my arms around her and give her a tight bear hug. She looked like she needed it.

  She didn’t turn to look at me as I started driving. She was staring out the window, and we had been in each other’s presence for a few minutes now, in complete silence. Her hair was lustrous, curly and could not be tamed. Just like her, I thought and smiled.

  “I’m Gemma. Gemma Ramsey,” she surprised me by declaring suddenly. I smiled at her, and noticed that she was looking at me like she was expecting some answers.

  “Nice to meet you Gemma. I’m… Luke Stoltz.” At the last minute, I suddenly gave her my middle name instead of my first name. I was enjoying this pleasant interlude with her, and I knew once she knew who I was, everything would change. I was on vacation, and I wanted to enjoy the company of an ordinary girl for once, without wondering if she had ulterior motives.

  Not that Gemma Ramsey seemed anything like an ordinary person. Even when she wasn’t talking, she gave off the air of having a million biting thoughts whirring around in that little head of hers. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, and she had a big mouth. No, Gemma Ramsey was no ordinary person, but I wanted to hear her voice again. She had struck a nerve in me somewhere that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. What was it about her that made me shift in my seat?

  “Where am I taking you, Gemma Ramsey?” I asked, and our eyes met again. She gave me a look like she was about to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself just in time.

  “Just keep driving, I’ll give you the directions when needed. I work at a diner,” she said, and I noticed the way she was twisting her fingers around on her lap. Despite the hardened, strong exterior, it seemed like this girl had her own set of insecurities that made her constantly nervous, jumpy.

  She wasn’t like any other woman I had met before. For starters, she wasn’t shoving her breasts at me, or smiling at me demurely from under heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

  “A diner?” I asked in some surprise.
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br />   “Did you think I did some other kind of work?” she asked, her face finally breaking into a smile. But it wasn’t a pleased smile; she was mocking me and herself.

  “Not really, I hadn’t thought anything,” I said and exchanged quick looks with her. “Although, I will say that you struck me as a kind of person who has other dreams.”

  Gemma jerked her head around to me again. When I met her eyes, they were ablaze, a dark smoky hazel in color. I had offended her somehow.

  “Just because I’m a small-town girl? You think I spend my days daydreaming about a better life or something?” Her shoulders were heaving again.

  “That’s not what I meant, I just thought maybe you had bigger ambitions, that’s all,” I said, trying to save the situation. I wasn’t lying. That was exactly what I thought. She struck me as the kind of girl who would fight for her ambitions. That a life working at a diner would never satisfy her.

  Gemma sighed; her eyes had mellowed slightly. “I’m trying to get through a college degree, in biology, at a community college here,” she said in a quiet voice, like she was admitting something she didn’t want to.

  “See, I knew it! That’s awesome,” I said excitedly. But Gemma didn’t share in my excitement.

  “That’s what I thought. I figured I could get into med school after this,” she continued, still in that quiet meek voice.

  “But that’s great, I’m sure you’re an ace student,” I said, wanting to touch her. I wanted to see that smile once more. I wanted to grab those small rounded shoulders, where her sweater had slipped off, revealing smooth porcelain white skin.

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said, looking up at me again. The smokiness in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a softer, lighter hue. She appeared to be thinking about something else. Almost like she had even forgotten that she was in my car.