Filthy Daddy (Baby Daddies Book 2)

by Ted Evans

  Filthy Daddy

  by

  Ted Evans

  © 2017 Ted Evans

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  About Filthy Daddy…

  I came out of jail three years ago.

  I was trying to keep a low profile.

  My neighbor was a single mom, Willow.

  She spent too much time asking me for favors.

  I knew what she really wanted.

  Willow was trying to get under my skin.

  The last time I allowed a woman to do that.

  My ex-wife got me banged up.

  I wasn’t repeating the same mistake again.

  That was until one night she came round in tears.

  I couldn’t resist the temptation to help her.

  Until I took my next job.

  I needed the money, after helping Willow out.

  That was until I found out my target.

  The one that was on the list.

  It was Willow.

  Not only was she my target. But she was my ex-wife’s daughter!

  Author's Note:

  It's steamy with enough sexiness for you to enjoy this novel. It is standalone, and there's no cheating!

  About Ted Evans

  This is the second book in the series. It’s a dirty, hot and steamy romance with touches of humor. Just like all my other books. If you like the sound out of it, then read on…

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  Filthy Daddy is a short novella, suitable for mature readers that love to read about dirty men with filthy mouths.

  Chapter One

  Willow

  Come on, I don’t have time for this right now!

  Willow Royal is bent over her kitchen sink, staring down into the swirl of grey sludge that’s backed up in the drain. She grabs a black plunger and shoves it into the drain, pushing at the clog that’s formed. The dirty water sloshes back and forth, threatening to splash over the edge of the sink, but the clog is still stuck. And now, there’s a strange smell seeping from the bubbles that have popped from her attempt at clearing the drain.

  “Ew, Mommy. It’s stinky in here.” Frank, Willow’s almost three-year-old son is standing in the doorway, fingers pinching his little upturned nose as he voices his disgust.

  Willow drops the plunger and quickly wipes her hands on a towel before turning to Frank and hefting him up onto her hip. “I know, sweetie. Mommy’s trying to fix it. Would you like a snack?”

  “Can I watch Paw Troll?”

  “Paw Patrol? Sure, honey.”

  Willow grabs a box of fish-shaped crackers and parks Frank in front of the television, setting him up with a DVD and snack. She looks at the top of his downy little head, bobbing in time to the theme music, and feels a pang of guilt at how little it takes to make him happy. And how little she can give him. The TV is second-hand—possibly even third-hand—from a thrift shop, and the DVD was bought at a local library sale. It skips in places, but Frank doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, most of their tiny apartment is furnished in thrift-store chic. Willow swallows past the lump forming in her throat. This isn’t the life she envisioned giving her child.

  Sighing, she turns back to the kitchen. She has to get that sink fixed somehow. She can’t call the owner; she’s behind on rent right now and he’ll demand she pay up before he fixes the sink. If he ever does, that is. It’s not like she could pay anyhow, all her money has been going to pay Frank’s babysitter lately. Olivia has been demanding more and more money every week. It’s all she can do anymore to keep the sitter paid and Frank fed.

  Willow pokes at the drain again with the plunger and lets out a small happy squeal as the water begins to drain. Her happy dance is cut short though, when she realizes that the sink is rapidly filling up again, this time on both sides. The gurgling grey water is bubbling out of both drains now, filling the kitchen with a fetid stink that makes Willow gag. She clamps a hand over her mouth and hurries to the window, cranking open the sash. It gets stuck halfway and no amount of pushing with open it completely. Willow is ready to cry when she sticks her face in the crack and draws in deep breaths of fresh air.

  Kneeling on the peeling linoleum, her face pressed into the window sill and the drain still gurgling behind her, Willow finally lets her frustrated tears leak down her cheeks. She’s lost. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s alone in another strange city; the same situation she’s been in for the past three years, she’s broke, and she’s has no help. She’s been bouncing from state to state, trying to keep herself and her family safe from her past mistakes. Fear has kept her to herself all this time and now she has no one to help her out when she needs it most. Down to her last dollar and on the verge of being evicted, Willow is pretty sure she’s hit rock bottom. At least, she hopes she has, because if she has further to fall, she’s not sure she can survive the landing.

  A little hand tugging at the back of her t-shirt pulls Willow out of her thoughts. She swipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands and plasters on a smile before turning to Frank. Cracker crumbs dot his sweet lower lip and he’s holding the box in one hand. Upside-down. A school of orange fish trail across the kitchen and into the living room. Willow looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath, counting to ten before looking back down at her son.

  “I thirsty,” he burbles.

  “C’mon kiddo, let’s clean up this mess first,” she says to him.

  ***

  Half an hour later, crackers swept up and juice drunk, Willow snuggles on the sofa with Frank. His head is hot and heavy, lazing on her shoulder as he stares bleary-eyed at his well-watched DVD. His mumbles the lines along with the cartoon characters and soon the mumbling stops, replaced by the low, even sounds of his sleepy breathing. Willow eases up off the sofa and carries him into the single bedroom, stepping softly toward his little bed set up in the corner of the room they share. She tucks him in, pulling a brightly colored blanket over his shoulders and pressing a kiss into his soft hair.

  Back in the living room, she turns off the still-playing DVD and perches on the edge of the sofa, chewing at her lip. She stares around the room, trying to figure out if she has anything worth selling. Hiring a plumber seems to be the only way she’ll get her sink fixed and to do that she’s going to need money. Money she currently doesn’t have. A glance around the room doesn’t turn up anything worth very much. She briefly wonders if she can sell her blood. Or is it plasma? Hell, maybe she can sell her eggs.

  A sound from the other side of the living room wall distracts her and she walks over, pressing her ear to the thin wall. It sounds like…sports. Her neighbor is up then. Willow doesn’t know anything about the guy except that he sleeps late and watches a lot of television. A lot. Willow tries to remember if she’s ever seen the guy before. She doesn’t think she has. He’s even more of hermit than she is. Come to think of it, she’s not even sure it’s a guy next door. It could be a gorilla
for all she knows.

  I wonder if it’s a sink-fixing gorilla. Wait. Could I ask him for help?

  Willow heads back into the kitchen and peers into the sink again. It looks worse than it did before and the stench has definitely increased. Willow backs out of the kitchen, reluctant to poke the brewing beast in her sink again. She glances back at the shared apartment wall and chews on the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t know if Mr. Gorilla-next-door is handy or not but she doesn’t have much of a choice anymore. All he can do is say no.

  Poking her head into the bedroom, Willow checks to make sure Frank is still sleeping before slipping quietly out the front door. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the door next to hers and takes a step back, trying to look neighborly. No answer. Willow knocks again, a little louder this time, and leans forward, pressing her ear to the door. What the…? Did she seriously just hear the TV volume go up? She bangs this time, slamming the side of her fist onto the peeling wood door. She jumps back from the door when she hears heavy thumps hitting the floor and crossing to the door. Jesus, maybe he really is a gorilla.

  The thumps stop at the door and she holds her breath, waiting on it to swing open. It doesn’t. She can hear someone shuffling around and sees shadows moving across the bottom but the door stays shut.

  “Hey, I know you’re home,” she says to the door and raises her hand to knock again when suddenly, the door answers back.

  “Leave, now!”

  Chapter Two

  Liam

  He wasn’t going to answer. Simple as that. He could see the top of her head through the peephole in the middle of the door. He recognized her voice from hearing her call to her son in the hallway. It was his next-door neighbor. The blonde. She was cute. Nice tits. But he didn’t want anything to do with her. Or anyone for that matter. If he was quiet, she’d go away. He was still staring at the top of her blonde head though.

  At first, the knock on the door had sent a small shiver of fear of up his spine. He wondered who the hell it could be. He didn’t know anyone in the building. He didn’t want to know anyone in the building. Getting to know the neighbors was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Especially women; his wife had given him up to the cops with no hesitation. He knew that it was her and ever since then he’d come out of jail he’d been looking for her.

  There was just one problem.

  Police Protection Services.

  They had done a good job. His ex, Harriet, had changed her name and was living…somewhere. Liam had no idea where this was and until he found out, he wasn’t having anything to do with the blonde next door. Even if she was cute.

  He figured turning up the TV would be a good way to let his unwelcome caller know he didn’t want to be disturbed. But this girl was persistent.

  “Hey, I know you’re home!”

  “Just because I’m home doesn’t mean that I want to talk to you.”

  She peers up through the peephole and Liam is struck by her eyes. They’re beautiful; violet, wide, thickly lashed and, right now, incredibly unguarded. They tug at something deep inside him, but he’s quick to stomp down on the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He’s not about to get wrapped up with some female, especially not with the girl next door. She could be a younger version of Harriet. Not that they’d been married that long. But long enough for her to figure out that he wasn’t just a drifter. He got his money from somewhere and the moment she discovered the truth she didn’t hesitate in getting a new life and keeping his last pay packet.

  He watches as she leans forward, her hands flat on the door, stretching up on her toes to get closer to the peephole. “Hey, I could, I mean, I need some help...I live, just, uh…next door,” she says. Her voice is practically in his ear. She’s got the slightest of accents, a little Midwestern ring with a touch of small town. Nope.

  “I’m busy.”

  Damn! Can’t she take a hint?. I’ve been living next door to her for six months. Six long months and not once have I invited her in.

  “It would really take just a minute.” She’s peering up at the peephole like she can see him on the other side. The feeling that she’s staring deep into his eyes makes him shift back and step away from the door.

  “Wait!”

  He takes another step back. “I said I’m busy.” He makes sure to stomp across the floor so she can hear him walking away.

  He flops back onto his threadbare sofa and picks up the remote, flicking through the hundreds of channels the box provides to him. Watching television is about the only thing he does now and occasionally drinking at the local bar. Then when he’s hungry he’ll sit in the diner. Just so that he doesn’t feel alone. Even in jail, he never ate alone, and Liam wants to think of his time as temporary, until he finds her.

  Until he gets Harriet and makes her pay for what she did.

  He hasn’t figured out how he’ll make her pay. But he’s an outlaw. Once a conman and now waiting to find the person who brought him down. He expects to figure it out when the moment comes.

  He’s got a stash of cash and his apartment is paid up for the next six months. No one knows he’s here and that’s how he plans to keep it. He’s going to sit on his couch, watch TV, drink beer and eat pie for the next few months before packing it in and moving on somewhere else.

  He drops the remote onto the low table in front of him and looks back at the door. He crosses the room again, quietly this time, and looks through the peephole. The hallway is empty. He runs his hand over his dark, closely cropped hair and sighs deeply. Glancing back over his shoulder at the television he watches a ball soaring across the screen before bouncing off the edge of the goal and the fans start to boo and hiss. That pretty much sums up his life. The booing and hissing follows him into the hallway before he cuts it off with the door.

  Just a few steps to the right and Liam is standing in front of his neighbor’s door. He should turn around while there’s still time. He doesn’t need to get mixed up with anyone, especially a little blonde with long eyelashes. He raps his knuckles on the door twice and steps back when it’s yanked open before he’s had the chance to drop his hand.

  The little blonde is looking up at him, her eyebrows pulled together as she tries to place him. Damn, she is a pretty little thing, round in all the right places and her hair looks like it would slip through his fingers like silk. She must notice the way he’s checking her out because she steps back and pushes at the door, trying to put it between her and him. Like he couldn’t get in if that’s what he wanted. He must have had a hundred pounds on her.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. You came banging on my door earlier. I live next door.” He gestures down the hall with his thumb.

  “Oh! Yes! Oh my God, thank you. Come in. I’m Willow.” She’s babbling at him and stepping back, waving him inside. She must be insane, inviting a stranger into her home. He should a have a talk with her about that. Well, if he knew her he’d have a talk with her about that. But he doesn’t know her. Or care about her. So, no talk.

  “Liam.”

  He steps inside and takes in the room in one sweeping look. Cheap furniture, old television, a couple of banged-up toys in the corner. This girl is definitely down on her luck. He really hopes she’s not going to try and feed him some sob story. He’s already regretting coming over here and he’s only two feet inside the door.

  She pushes the door closed and walks across the room. Liam trails behind her, checking out the way her ass sways in her worn-out jeans. She’s babbling at him again.

  “…and it just stopped going down. I’m sorry about the smell. I tried the window but it only opens a few inches. I can’t afford a plumber and I don’t know if you know anything about sinks but...” she trails off and motions to the sink.

  Liam steps over the sink, his lip curling up at the smell. God, what a reek. He wonders how long it’s been like this. He wonders why she just didn’t call maintenance. He wonders what the hell h
e’s doing over here. Fuck it, he’s here, might as well take a look. If he fixes it she might leave him alone. Giving an exasperated sigh, he flips open the lower cabinet doors and slides under the sink.

  There’s a wrench that just fits the pipe shoved to the back of cabinet so it must be a recurring problem. He grabs it and gives the pipes a tap, listening for a gurgle. He can hear what’s-her-name, Willow, babbling at him again but he can’t understand what she’s saying. Damn, chatty chicks drive him crazy. He eyes the U-bend in the pipe and slides back out.

  “You got a bucket?”

  “Uhhh…” She’s looking around the room like a bucket’s going to drop out of the sky.

  “Bowl? Pot? Anything that will hold water?” He shakes his head and heaves himself off the floor when she doesn’t move, snatching a pot off the stove and shoving it under the pipe before applying the wrench and opening it up. Fetid water gushes into the waiting pot along with a little plastic car that plops out. He fishes it out with the edge of the wrench and flicks it onto the counter. “Don’t let your kid stick crap down the drain.”

  “I didn’t let him drop stuff in there on purpose,” she huffs.

  He shrugs and reconnects the pipes. When he finishes up he hands the wrench to Willow. “Here, you’ll probably need this again.” He runs cleans water through the drain and washes his hands. Willow is watching him, not saying anything but he can see the red flush high across her cheeks. His remark about her kid pissed her off then. Tough shit.

  Liam stalks across the kitchen and to the front door, Willow right behind him. He can tell she wants to say something and he wants to be out before she can open her mouth. He reaches for the door knob but before he can twist it open she’s there, her hand on his, warm and soft across the back of his knuckles. It’s been a very long time since anyone has put their hand on his. He’s not sure he likes the feeling.