When We Met: A Small Town Single Dad Romance

by Shey Stahl

  Ladies, if you’re looking for Mr. Right. Don’t go looking at the bars. Check out the Texas country boys who work hard for what they want instead of partying. Find the ones who are raising two kids on their own and building their dreams in the process.

  Being responsible for the lives he created, that makes Barron all the more sexy if you ask me and Tara look like the piece of shit she is. Fuck. Tara. The reminder of her, and me being here, sends my heart to my stomach. How am I going to tell him I used to work for her? It’s going to look like I planned this, isn’t it?

  While I silently argue with myself, Barron notices me staring at him. “Hey,” he says. That gravelly, grating voice sends shivers down my spine and a tingle to my clit. Goddamn. Waiter, I’ll take a cowboy, please.

  I wave, unsure what else to do, and wrap the blanket around my shoulders. Standing, I pad my way over to him, barefoot and wearing nothing but my damn shirt from last night. No pants.

  Quickly I realize he’s seeing my bare-ass legs for the first time, and by the hooded, hungry look he’s wearing, he’s not disappointed.

  I smile unapologetically. “See? Black.” And then I wiggle my hips and wrap the blanket around me tighter. “And still thinking about that kiss.”

  “You and me both.” He frowns, the thermos in his hand hitting the concrete countertop. “Now, all I’m going to think about today is what color your bra is.”

  I laugh and take a seat across from him. “I’m not wearing one.”

  He blinks slowly, probably waiting for me to say “just kidding,” but I don’t.

  Clearing his throat, he draws in a heavy breath and then blows it out slowly. “While I’d love to see that, sadly, I have to help Morgan this morning. I work the ranch on Saturdays.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to watch the girls for you? It’s the least I can do for you letting me stay here. Oh, and how’s Sev feeling?”

  “Still sleeping, but she never got up again, so I’m assuming she’s feeling better.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “I should wake them up. They usually spend the day with Lara Lynn. I was just getting ready to take them over there.”

  “Who’s that?”

  He shifts his stance and zips his Carhartt jacket I’ve been wearing lately. I hope it smells like me, and I invade his thoughts like he does mine. “My stepmom.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “But if you want them….”

  Excitement shoots through me, and I can’t help my smile. “I’m actually dying to spend some time with them. They’re so adorable,” I gush, thinking of Camdyn’s mesmerizing dark eyes that mirror her father and Sev’s addictive personality.

  He smiles, wide, as if this is hilarious to him, or he’s laughing at me. “Uh-huh. Come talk to me tonight after you’ve spent the day with them.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can handle them?” Bitch, if I can handle models, I can handle children.

  “I’m not sure. They can be a handful.” I watch his face, waiting for him to show some apprehension for a relative stranger being alone with his children. But it’s not there. Clearly he’s still small town. “Have you ever watched kids before?”

  “No, but I was a personal assistant before I became homeless and jobless. I’m sure I can handle a three-year-old and five-year-old for a day.”

  He turns a suspicious eye on me. “Should we put a bet on it?”

  “I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

  “What I have in mind can’t…” He licks his lips. “I’m not leaving that up to chance. That’s happening.”

  I bite my lip. “Oh really?”

  He watches me, and then his attention moves when there’s a sound of an engine approaching. “How about this? You don’t have any issues with them; I get to take you dinner.”

  “And if I do?”

  “I still take you to dinner.”

  “That’s not a bet, Barron.”

  “I know. Have fun.”

  “How about if I don’t have any issues, I let you take me to dinner and show you what my panties look like on your bedroom floor?”

  He sighs again, his head tilted and jaw slack. “You do realize I’m going to be gone all day, and once again thinking about your goddamn panties.”

  “Yep.”

  “Cute.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head with a small smirk as he walks out the door. I want to keep that smirk forever and ever. I want a polaroid of it. A memory I can look back on when he knows the truth.

  I know I’m living a lie.

  Does it stop me?

  Nope.

  What if this is fate? What if I ran into that building for a reason? I didn’t know where he lived. So is it so bad that I’m suddenly sleeping on Tara’s husband’s couch?

  Yes. Probably.

  But damn it, if Cinderella could fit the glass slipper, why can’t I fit myself into their lives?

  Taking my journal in my hand, I stare out at the barren frosty land behind his house and the frozen pond beyond that. Bringing the pen to the torn paper edges, I write what I’ve been feeling these last couple of days.

  I’m not looking for love.

  I was raised by the worst examples

  – tainted love

  But is that the truth? Barron… he’s captivating, and just his smile has me thinking this is what forever feels like.

  And holy shit, he just left me alone with his kids.

  What the fuck is he thinking?

  Never underestimate the power of either.

  KACY

  After Barron leaves the house, I want to take a shower. That’d be forward of me, right? Ugh. I can’t have sex with him without taking a shower. And you better believe I’m hoping for that to happen. I have to clean up before that happens. Let’s be real. No one wants a vajungle coming at them. But I also have just a smidge of shyness that I can’t just barge into his bathroom and use it. That’d be weird, right?

  You know what’s weird? Their cat. Victor? Vernon? I don’t remember. I’ve never been a cat person and therefore can’t remember their names. All I know is that he’s staring at me, and it’s as if he knows my lie. Or sees through to my soul. “Why are you staring at me?” I ask, reaching to pet him.

  He doesn’t budge one bit, and if cats could say fuck you, this one does. He apparently finds interest in something else because he wanders away as if I’m not even talking to him.

  When are these kids getting up? I was never allowed to sleep in as a kid. My mom used to say only the early bird gets the worms and she’d be up working before the sun came up. Though I didn’t want to eat worms. I wanted to be accepted by Camille more than anything. Even if it meant sacrificing myself and everything I loved or wanted.

  On my second cup of coffee, I check the time on my phone and realize two things. Okay, three. My battery is on its last 10 percent. I haven’t bothered to charge it since I crashed into his shop. And Tara has called me four times, my mom, twice.

  I listen to the message my mom left first, my heart racing with every word. “Kacy, where are you? Tara told me you quit. I went to your apartment, and some lady said you gave her all your shit. What the fuck? Really? Over me and Royce? Unbelievable.”

  The line goes silent after that.

  Let me tell you something about Royce Reynolds, my ex. I never took him seriously. Would you take a self-made billionaire you met at a party who bought and sold companies seriously? No. You wouldn’t. Okay, maybe you would. You’d think “wow, so this is how Julia Robert’s character in Pretty Woman felt” and chalk it up to a fluke. Or come to your damn senses when you realized he was using you. Only Royce is nothing like Richard Gere’s character, sadly. Do you want to know what his way of hitting on me was? He wasn’t asking for directions. He said, and I quote, “I have a red Ferrari you’d look good sucking dick in.”

  And stupid me thought hey, this could be a good time and then fell flat on my face in love with a liar.

  Months later, we starte
d becoming exclusive, because apparently my pussy is the topnotch kind you slap a girlfriend label to, I thought okay, damn, this is pretty awesome.

  Then his red Ferrari dick found its way inside my mother.

  Inconvenient, sure, but it was just another sprinkle on the cake of “move the fuck on and get out of California.”

  Next message. Tara.

  My heart starts hammering in my chest, and I have to sit down on the couch to listen to this one. Guilty, I glance around the room as if she can see me with her family. The thing is, from the way she tells it and Barron talks about her, there’s no family with her in the picture. Her boyfriend doesn’t know she has kids, for fuck’s sake. Who leaves that out of a relationship?

  Bitch, you haven’t told him you know his wife, so clearly, you’re no angel here.

  True.

  Pressing the Play button, I listen to Tara’s message. “Kacy, I need my list of contacts sent to me,” she snaps in that same condescending tone she’s always used with me. “You have an obligation to fulfill here, and if you’d like to avoid legal prosecution, you will send me that list.”

  Oh geez. I roll my eyes. Legal prosecution over a contact list of people who only talk to her because of her name and what her D cups look like on posters. Ridiculous. With the remaining battery percentage I have left, I quickly send the list over to her in email. Not that I’m scared of legal action from Tara but the fact is, I can’t risk anything when it comes to that crazy bitch. I can’t afford any drama from her. Literally. I only have one credit card in my name that I got when I turned eighteen, no job, and no place to live. Eventually, my trust fund my grandparents gave me will run out. Though my mom’s a shitty human, I adore my grandparents. Not because of the trust fund, but because they always looked out for me.

  Like it or not, I can’t live off that money forever. Okay, maybe I can in the South. I can totally see myself staying here and never leaving. When I left California, I had no destination in mind. I figured I’d drive until I found a town I could start fresh in.

  Staring at the wall of baby photos of Camdyn and Sev, I’m reminded this isn’t starting fresh.

  Setting my phone on my lap, I smell my armpits. “I really need to shower,” I tell myself, eyeing the space at the end of the hall where the bathroom is. Judging by the soft pink walls and the chandelier that looks like diamonds, it’s the kid’s bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s next to the girls’ bedroom, and if I turn on the shower, they might wake up and wonder what the hell I’m doing.

  Digging my jeans out, I slip into the bathroom to dress and pee. I smile at their little bathrobes on the wall, pinned up by diamond-studded princess hooks. I can tell immediately which one belongs to which. Sev’s is black and purple, and Camdyn’s has horses all over it.

  After brushing my teeth, I take a peek at myself in the mirror on the wall and frown, holding my toiletry bag to my chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I whisper to myself, hoping for an answer. This screams stalker, or crazy, I just know it. But I also can’t make myself leave. Why? My car is totaled, that’s a reason, but I don’t have to be staying here. I could insist he takes me to town and I get a hotel room. But the insane need to know this guy seems to be winning out in this scenario.

  Something deep inside my chest keeps screaming at me. And it’s not like the time I ate that questionable sushi from the gas station and thought my stomach was going to explode into my heart, and I called a doctor to ask if it was possible. We’ve already established by my map reading skills, I did not pay attention in school, so you can see how this is possible.

  This is like me thinking the universe bitch slapped me and made that buck jump in front of my car.

  Breathing in deeply, I open the door to find two pairs of curious eyes staring back at me. “Hi!” Camdyn says, smiling as if she saw me kissing her dad last night.

  I wave. “Morning.”

  Sev eyes me, blonde curls all over the place. “I gotta pee,” she rasps exhaustedly, moving past me to the bathroom. Without a care in the world, she drops her pajama bottoms and sits on the toilet, staring at the wall.

  Camdyn rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, holding it in hers as if we’re best buddies. We did spend the majority of the day coloring yesterday. “Where’s my daddy?”

  “He went to work with your uncle Morgan.”

  Camdyn nods as if she was just testing me and tugs on my hand, leading me down the hall. I glance over my shoulder to see Sev unrolling what looks to be the entire roll of toilet paper. “Are you watching us? Where’s Nana Lee?”

  “I said I’d watch you. Is that okay?” She nods, and I point to Sev over my shoulder as I’m being dragged away. “Does she need help?”

  “No.”

  In the kitchen, Camdyn scoots a chair from the island over to the cupboard and stands on it. Nervously, I watch, wondering at what point do I ask what she’s doing. I didn’t even know what was in our cupboards growing up. My nanny dealt with all that. Standing on her tippy-toes, she picks a box up and tosses it over her shoulder as she balances precariously on the edge of the counter, and I nearly have a heart attack.

  I try to catch the box she throws, but I’m more concerned that I shouldn’t be allowing this. My experience in babysitting is cleaning up after drunk people and buying condoms in the middle of the night. Or begging a doctor’s office to prescribe antibiotics without seeing the patient because of a questionable rash they don’t want anyone knowing about.

  These girls are practically babies, and Barron left me alone with them. I’m actually starting to question his common sense at this point because, obviously.

  “Do you like pancakes?” Camdyn asks, jumping gracefully down from the chair to the floor.

  I smile, relieved she’s no longer balancing her tiny body on the edge of a counter. “Who doesn’t?”

  She points to the stove, picking her pajama bottoms out of her butt. “Can you turn that thing on?”

  “The stove?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sev holds up the pancake mix. “We need you to make des.”

  Taking the box from her, I notice Sev has what looks to be hives on her face or chickenpox. “What happened?” Awesome. I’m alone with them for five minutes and she’s sick? What am I going to tell Barron?

  “I gets hives,” she tells me, itching her arms.

  “You do? Is that normal? Please tell me that’s normal.”

  “She gets them.” Camdyn points to a cabinet by the sink. “Sometimes. Daddy gives her allergy stuff.”

  “That sounds like I shouldn’t do that.” I kneel next to Sev and look at her arms and face, running my fingertips over the raised bumps. “Do they itch?”

  “No,” she says, itching her arms. “Can I have pankicks now?”

  “Pancakes,” Camdyn corrects, opening the fridge door to retrieve what I think is the rest of the ingredients for the pancakes—milk, eggs, which she drops, and butter. She scowls at the mess, trying to get the milk on the counter. “Dang it.”

  Reaching for it, I scoot the milk away from the edge and pick up the eggs off the floor. Some are salvageable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask Sev.

  Sev stares at me, her beautiful blue eyes wide. “My bunny itches.”

  “Bunny?” Do they have another animal I haven’t met yet?

  “She means her butt.” Camdyn swings the door to the refrigerator closed. It rattles with the clanking of the beer bottles inside.

  “Oh. Uh.” And before I can help her out, she sits down on the floor and wiggles around, effectively itching her bunny like a dog would.

  “I need help,” Camdyn notes, grunting as she tries to place the eggs and milk on the counter.

  “Be right there.” I make my way over to Camdyn, and we proceed to make pancakes. It’s while we’re eating them and the girls are being silly snorting syrup, giggling over the cat getting it on his paws, and freaking out that I realize this is the best morning I’ve had in years. They’re everything pure and
good. Innocent. And so unlike their mother. I’m convinced they take after Barron.

  After breakfast, the girls get dressed and stand in front of me.

  “Do you like goats?”

  “Like a goat?” I raise an eyebrow. “A real goat?”

  The girls stare at one another. Sev shrugs, trying to get the stocking hat on her head. Camdyn’s brow furrows. Maybe she’s thinking she should help her sister, or she’s wondering why I don’t know what a goat is. Or both. “Yeah?”

  I nod. “Of course I want to see a goat. Are they friendly?”

  “Theys our pets,” Sev tells me, still struggling with her hat. Finally, she rips it off and throws it on the ground, then steps on it.

  “Do you need help?”

  Her scrunched, angry brow softens when I kneel next to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Can I keep them? Can they be mine? Please?

  I help her get her hat on. “There you go. Now show me these goats then,” I say, reaching for my scarf. This city girl is going to be country for a day.

  Dressed as though we’re heading to the Antarctic and probably too many layers for the girls, we head outside to brave the cold. The wind whips my face the instant we’re outside, and I squint at the harshness. So much for sunshine and palm trees. “Is it always this windy here?”

  Camdyn shrugs, her eyes on the snow and the hair peeking out from under her stocking cap blowing in her face. “Yep.”

  “Where are these goats?”

  “At the barn.” Camdyn points toward what looks to be a barn across from the shop. I’ve learned from the girls this morning that Barron’s dad, stepmom, aunt, and brother all live on the Grady Ranch. It’s divided up in sections, and in the middle is a fully operational ranch that’s been in the Grady family for over a hundred years. “The barn is next to Papa B’s house. I’ll show you.”

  Sev is beside me, still itching her arms and face. I kneel next to her and zip her jacket. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I feel her forehead, thinking maybe she’s getting sick. Barron said she threw up last night. She’s warm but not hot. Crap. Maybe I should find Barron and ask him what to do.