Arrogant Single Dad: A Hero Club Novel

by Alyse Zaftig

  Annabelle’s bath was done. Logan appeared with a wet shirt and slightly disheveled hair. “She likes to splash,” Logan explained briefly. “After I get her settled, she likes to have a bedtime story. She wants you to read it to her.”

  Chapter 8

  “I’m up for it,” I replied.

  “Good. She’s already in her pajamas.” He pointed to a door. “She’s in there.” I followed him into Annabelle’s bedroom, which was pink. She was in dinosaur pajamas, which were cute. I couldn’t name any of the dinosaurs on them besides the stegosaurus.

  “What do you want to read?”

  “The Very Hungry Caterpillar!” exclaimed Annabelle.

  I sat down with the book and settled on the mattress. Logan was on her other side. It felt so domestic and something inside of me just felt right reading a bedtime story to Logan’s child. I made the book as exciting as I could. I knew that Annabelle had the book read to her before, but I’d done some theater as a child. I wasn’t going to be a professional voice actor, but I could do a credible performance good enough for the average three-year-old. By the time I got to the end of the book, Annabelle’s eyes were drooping. Logan quietly eased off of the bed. I did, too. Logan closed the door as gently as he could behind us.

  “Adult time. Do you still like wine?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have some Dom Perignon that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

  “Is it really that special?”

  “You’re home in Indiana. I think that’s enough for a celebration. And I need a drink.”

  I smiled up at him. “Then I’ll accept it. You must be doing well if you can afford Dom Perignon.”

  “Making money has become so much more important ever since I had a kid. I haven’t been dating much because I’m so busy with Annabelle. She’s energetic and always wants to do everything. I am basically her chauffeur. I just do business stuff on the side,” he laughed ruefully.

  “I’m kind of a workaholic,” I replied.

  “You’ve always been driven.” He went to uncork the Dom. “I have champagne flutes somewhere.” He dug around in a cabinet before producing two champagne flutes. “Here.” The bubbles fizzled up. The slight scent of sparkling wine filled the air.

  “To Annabelle getting better.” We toasted each other.

  “So what do you do?”

  “I run my own digital-first publishing business, remember?”

  “That’s right, my mom said something about you going into publishing. How has it treated you?”

  “We aim for at least 10,000 units moved of every book we publish, so we prioritize quality content. Before, publishing was by guesstimating how much demand there would be for books. Nowadays, we can gauge the demand for books and see if it’s worth it to do a print run.”

  “I don’t know much about books. I haven’t had a lot of leisure time since Annabelle was born. I listen to podcasts when I run, though.”

  “Book talk is work talk,” I admitted. “Are you a Murderino?”

  “I love true crime podcasts,” he said. “I’ll listen to a little bit of everything, though.”

  We drank our champagne in companionable silence. Once upon a time, drinking sweet wine together had been illicit and exciting. As teenagers, we’d had plenty of tipsy make-out sessions. Now, we were older and could afford the good stuff instead of relying on someone’s sketchy older brother to obtain alcohol. The wine was making me pleasantly warm. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?” I blurted out. I normally would be too shy to talk about it.

  “You wanted me to taste your pomegranate lip gloss,” replied Logan.

  “Yup.”

  “It went something like this.” Logan leaned in to kiss my mouth. He tasted like champagne; the interior of his mouth was cool from the chilled Dom Perignon.

  “You taste so good,” I murmured against his lips. The next thing I knew, I was straddling his lap and we were making out like teenagers again. I rubbed against the ridge of his erection. Then he stopped it. “I’m not really in the market for anything serious,” said Logan.

  “Neither am I,” I agreed. “I’m too busy to be involved with anyone.”

  “Then you and I will have fun during this week together and not have any strings attached.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “It’s been enough for one night,” Logan said, pulling me off of his lap. “I’m rusty at this kind of thing.”

  “So am I.” On one hand, Logan’s body and smell felt familiar to me. But on the other, it had been years since I’d straddled anybody’s waist. My thighs already felt sore from the stretching.

  “I’ll get you one of my shirts and you can go to sleep.” Logan stretched his back and went into his bedroom. He gave me one of his big shirts, which hit my thighs. “Good night.”

  I went to the guest bedroom, which was handily stocked with plenty of the kinds of things that most people would need, like shampoo and lotion. I took a quick shower before changing into Logan’s shirt. It brought back good memories. His shirts were always too big for me. We’d had a spot in the parking lot where we’d made out without the school security seeing us. Logan was overprotective sometimes. It seemed that being a dad mellowed him out a little bit. The old Logan would’ve gotten much more intense about his daughter throwing up. I guessed that once you had a full-time job as a parent, smaller bumps in the road didn’t seem as critical. It figured that Logan went for nannies instead of tossing his kid into an impersonal preschool. He was kind of a control freak, which meant that he wanted the ability to check on his kid at any time during the day. Back when we were in high school, he always wanted me to text him once I got home in my little beige Taurus. I always made it home safely. I sighed and fell asleep.

  Chapter 9

  “Good morning!” screamed Annabelle right into my ear. “Are you awake?”

  “Mmph,” I replied semi-coherently.

  “Daddy says that I’m only allowed to talk to you if you’re awake,” she yelled again.

  “You probably could wake the dead screaming like that, pumpkin.” Logan was in the doorway with his arms crossed and a slight smile on his face.

  “I’m up.” I was not up. I was lying.

  “Daddy’s making pancakes when you’re up,” she continued to yell.

  “Inside voice, sweet pea,” reminded Logan gently.

  She whispered, “He does good mouse pancakes.”

  I laughed a little. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come down.”

  “Why are you wearing Daddy’s shirt?” asked Annabelle.

  “Because I stayed the night and didn’t pack anything. All I was planning on doing was going to the grocery store.”

  “I see!” screamed Annabelle. She was dancing around with impatience.

  “I’ll get the pancakes started.”

  “I get to mix the batter!” Annabelle started to run for the kitchen.

  “No running inside the house,” called Logan after her. “Take whatever time you need. She’s just excited to have a guest in the house.”

  I just wanted to put on my bra and jeans under Logan’s shirt. “I’m not going to say no to pancakes.”

  Logan went to the kitchen to prevent Annabelle from burning the house down. I quickly wiggled into yesterday’s bra and jeans. Logan’s shirt was comfortably oversized for me. I went into the kitchen to see Annabelle standing on a chair, mixing batter enthusiastically. She didn’t understand how to make the batter smooth, but Logan took it for her when it was nearly ready and incorporated the stuff at the edges. He poured three smooth circles that made a mouse.

  “Down you go,” he said to Annabelle.

  “But I want to watch, Daddy!”

  “What if we watch Peppa Pig?” I offered.

  “Peppa Pig! Down!”

  Logan helped her down from the chair. “Don’t worry, it should be the first thing you see when you turn on the TV. It’s really her TV.”

  Annabelle knew how to tur
n on the TV and get Peppa Pig. When she was safely occupied, I drifted back to Logan who was making stacks of mouse pancakes. “She’s a handful,” I commented.

  “I wouldn’t have her any other way. Romi couldn’t keep up with the demands of a child. I’ve been taking care of her since she was born.” Logan flipped a pancake. “And frankly, I think that she’s happier with just me. Romi didn’t like waking up at night to feed the baby or change her diapers. She’s already potty trained. Diapers aren’t forever. But as soon as she told me she wanted a divorce, she offered me primary custody. Some people just aren’t meant to be mothers in any way other than biologically.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to delve into Logan’s issues with Romi, who’d wanted him enough to marry him but didn’t want their child enough to stay. He probably was a little gun shy after his shotgun wedding.

  “Have you ever gotten close to marrying?”

  “Once,” I replied. “Back in school, I was dating a guy for most of my MBA. It didn’t work out. He moved to Seattle after graduation and we weren’t serious enough to take it further. He knew I was going to be based in New York and…”

  “It was like me going to U of M,” completed Logan.

  “Kind of,” I admitted. “No acrimony, just…”

  “Here one day and gone the next.” Logan ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve stuck around. I would’ve had less student debt, for one thing. But without it, I wouldn’t have been as motivated to get my human resources business off of the ground.”

  “Without my debt, I wouldn’t have tried as hard on my publishing business, either. My parents paid for my undergrad, but I was independent after I had a few years of work experience under my belt, which Harvard requires for MBA students.”

  “How long are you going to stay in New York?”

  “I have friends there. My mentors are all in New York. So indefinitely, unless something changes.”

  “I didn’t think I’d come back to Indiana, but there’s so much talent floating around Indianapolis that it made sense for me to start my human resources business here. And it’s one of the best counties in the nation to raise a family, so Annabelle has access to everything she needs.” Logan had expertly made pancakes and put them on three dishes. One was colorful and had Elsa on it, so I knew it was Annabelle’s. He quickly cut her pancakes up into small pieces while maintaining the overall shape. I helped carry the plates to the table.

  “What do you want to do today, pumpkin?” asked Logan.

  “Museum! I want dinosaurs.”

  “She likes the dinosaur stuff at the Indianapolis Children’s Museum,” explained Logan. “She’s crazy about dinosaurs.”

  “That’s cute,” I commented. I dug into the pancakes. They were plain, but Logan had put out Kerrygold Irish butter that was rich. The maple syrup was sweet and thick, too. It felt nice to sit down and have a real breakfast. Most of my breakfasts in New York consisted of a protein bar, just to put something in my stomach. Indiana had a slower pace of life than what I led. Logan had obviously sacrificed some of his business growth for the Munchkin. It was more important to him that she had a safe, healthy place to grow up than to scale his business. Maybe being headquartered in Indianapolis helped with a reasonable pace of growth that he could keep the reins on.

  When I was done, I said, “I should go.”

  “You’re going to the museum with me!” screamed Annabelle.

  Chapter 10

  “Inside voice,” said Logan.

  “But we’re going to the museum.” Her lower lip jutted out. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

  I couldn’t say no to her. “Honey, I don’t have my clothes.” I was still wearing Logan’s shirt.

  “Then you can get clothes and come back,” reasoned Annabelle.

  “I haven’t unpacked yet,” I admitted to Logan.

  “I’ll drive you back to your car.” Logan was humoring Annabelle. “And we’ll see what happens from there. I have a family membership at the Children’s Museum, so I can bring in another adult.”

  I wavered. My parents had wanted me to come home to spend time with them; a tyrannical three-year-old girl was putting a wrench in the works. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  “Museum!” yelled Annabelle.

  “Just the museum,” I quickly acquiesced before Annabelle threw a full tantrum.

  “I’ll give you our address so you can drive back here. No rush.” Logan scribbled the address on a piece of paper so I could plug it into my car’s navigation system.

  After washing the syrup off of her face, Logan loaded Annabelle into the car in her carseat. I sat on the passenger side. I was back to my rental within minutes, and I waved at them as Logan drove them back home. When I got home, my dad was sleeping in front of the TV. My mom was brewing some tea. “Had a nice night, honey?”

  I blushed. “Mom!”

  “Your dad and I are old enough for R-rated movies, you know.” My mom winked. My blush grew hotter. “I’m here to get my clothes.”

  “Mhm,” said my mom knowingly.

  “Annabelle wants to go to the museum. I didn’t have any clothes with me.”

  “Which is why you’re wearing a man’s shirt.”

  I looked down at my loose shirt. “Right.” I realized then I’d left yesterday’s shirt at Logan’s.

  “Well, you’re here for a vacation. We thought you focused so hard on your business that we’d never get grandbabies.”

  My mom was being incredibly embarrassing. “I’m not talking about this with you, Mom.” I went to my room to get my suitcase and lug it out to my car.

  “Come back whenever you’re done!” called my mom as I walked out to the car. I felt my cheeks heat up again. Whatever Logan and I were doing, no grandbabies were in the picture. I had a life and a business back in New York. Even if I had a vacation fling with Logan, it couldn’t be more. I didn’t have a lot to offer Logan. I didn’t want Annabelle to get too attached to me. She was matter-of-fact about Romi always leaving. I couldn’t break her heart, too. I punched his address into my car’s GPS before driving to Logan’s place.

  When I got back to Logan’s house, I rang the doorbell.

  Chapter 11

  “I’ll get it!” screamed Annabelle. I could hear the patter of her feet as she ran for the door. “Hi!”

  I was kind of tired just watching her energetically bound around everywhere. “I need to change before I go to the museum with you, sweet pea.”

  “Okay!” Annabelle was smug that she’d gotten her own way. In another twenty years, she’d be out of college and be unleashed on the world. Heaven help us.

  I went to the guest room with my suitcase and quickly changed my shirt so I was wearing one of mine. I’d have to ask Logan how to use his washing machine so I could wash his shirt before returning it to him. I came down the stairs to see Annabelle wrestling with rain boots on the wrong feet. They had unicorns on them. “Do you want help?”

  “No, I do it myself!” she proclaimed.

  “I’m fostering her independence,” said Logan in a very dry tone. “But she’s mostly doing that on her own.”

  I grinned at that. “Noted.”

  Annabelle stood up in her rain boots which she had some trouble walking in. “I’m ready now.”

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but I dutifully followed her as she clumped down the hallway to get to the garage door.

  “My toes hurt,” remarked Annabelle.

  “Please let me help you,” I offered.

  “If you must.” This kid cracked me up. I just shook my head as I helped her switch her boots. She held onto my shoulders for balance. I was a complete stranger to her yesterday, but Logan was raising a child who knew what she wanted and went straight for it. She didn’t care that our acquaintance was less than 24 hours old. As soon as her feet were in the rain boots the right way, she danced to the van and started to climb in. The automated doors helped.

  I settled into the passenger sid
e with my purse in tow. It felt like I was already part of their family, which was a stupid thing to think. I would only be around for a week. I might as well get as much of this hilarity as I could while I was around. Being with an energetic three-year-old girl made me wonder what would’ve happened if Logan had stuck around. We could’ve had two kids by now; I’d be driving a minivan and cleaning mud off of soccer cleats. I shook my head.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I needed to keep it together. Logan didn’t need to know that I was contemplating what would have been. “I was just thinking you’re the one that got away.”

  “You’re definitely my one that got away, too.” Logan took his hand off of the gearshift and squeezed my hand. “We had something special back then, but I was too stupid to hold onto something good. I wanted to get out of Indiana so badly. Who knew I’d end up back here with a kid?” He let go of my hand; I felt bereft of his warmth and comfort.

  He kept driving us down to the museum. It was a cozy little domestic scenario. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d been to a museum in NYC. There were plenty of museums to go to; I just didn’t go. I rarely did tourist things unless my parents were there or one of my friends was in town, sleeping on my couch and trying to see the sights. I’d been ultra-focused for a long time on getting my business off of the ground. I knew my assistant could keep things going for a week, but it had taken me years to get to this point. When we walked into the museum, Logan took care of the family membership stuff. Annabelle was holding onto my hand; I was very thankful that she didn’t run around the parking garage like she ran around the house. She knew that she had to stay with adults in the parking garage because she was so short. I followed Logan into the Children’s Museum.