Forbidden Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 3)

by Kelly Myers

  Forbidden Daddy

  Kelly Myers

  Copyright © 2020 by Kelly Myers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Excerpt: Yes Daddy

  Invitation to join Kelly’s Newsletter

  Blurb

  Mr. McHottie lives right next door.

  He’s older, and I’m just a college student.

  Add some icing on the cake.

  He’s my landlord.

  An unexpected twist of fate throws us together.

  I’m just trying to make it through the final weeks of college before heading off to med school.

  It takes one misunderstanding to ruin everything.

  One look at the pregnancy strip,

  One twist of fate…

  And I’m wondering if Nate can be more than a fun distraction.

  Do second chances really exist?

  Chapter One

  Cynthia

  I scan my anatomy notes one last time before scooping them up and shoving the papers into my backpack.

  My friend Becca taps her foot with impatience.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say.

  My other friend Tommy grins. “Cynthia, you’ve been obsessively studying for days, you’re not going to learn anything extra by reading your notes again.”

  I roll my eyes and shrug. I’m used to their teasing. The three of us are all pre-med, so our college friendship has been four long years of studying together. It’s the spring semester of our senior year, and we’re all into medical school, so the pressure is off. Even so, I want to finish my courses on a high note so I can start med school strong this fall.

  I shrug my backpack onto my shoulder and push my long dark hair off my face. “Ok, I’m ready.”

  “Finally.” Becca turns on her heel and heads towards the stairs leading to the library exit.

  Becca’s blonde head bounces in front of me, and Tommy walks behind me. I’ve grown so used to my two best friends, it’s going to be strange next year without them. Becca is off to Texas for medical school, and I’m going to New York City. Tommy will be close by in Philly, but it won’t be the same. We won’t meet up every evening in our little corner of the library to study.

  Our college campus is small and idyllic, nestled in a small town in Upstate New York. I’m a creature of habit, so I’ve grown so comfortable in my routine here. The city will be so different.

  But it will be worth it. All I’ve ever wanted is to be a doctor. Even when I was a kid in elementary school, it was my dream. Once my fifth grade teacher made us create little posters about ourselves to present to the class, and I wrote at the very top: “My name is Cynthia Lannon, and one day I’m going to be a doctor.”

  The three of us head across the quad. Becca is gushing about some guy in her painting class.

  “And yesterday he totally initiated conversation with me,” Becca says. “But, like, he could just be nice, ya know?”

  I nod along. In our friendship, Becca is for sure the boy-crazy one.

  Tommy makes eye contact with me and rolls his eyes. I smile and shrug. I’ve grown used to Becca’s endless chatter. I can be quiet, so I’ve always been drawn to talkative friends.

  “Wanna grab dinner?” Tommy asks.

  “Oh, I’ve been dying to try that new taco place,” Becca says. “Let’s go tonight!”

  I glance down at my watch. “I dunno, it’s already late, and I still want to get a few more things done.”

  “Oh, come on, Cynthia,” Becca says. “Let loose a little!”

  “It’s not even letting loose.” Tommy twists his mouth into a wry smile. “It’s just tacos.”

  I shrug. I’m used to my friends teasing me for always choosing studying or being alone over social events. I’m an introvert, and I like to stick to my schedules, that’s all. Spontaneous adjustments to my well-laid plans are my absolute worst enemy.

  “Well, if you’re not down, I’ll just head back to my dorm,” Becca says. “Maybe I’ll even text Brad, he mentioned he might be free tonight.”

  As much as I love to plan everything well in advance, my best friend Becca loves to plan things last minute.

  “You should do it for sure,” I say. “I have a good feeling about you and him.”

  Becca sighs. “I guess it’s stupid to try and start something when we’re graduating in two months.”

  “But you can’t help it,” I say with a laugh.

  Becca nods in agreement and waves goodbye as she turns towards her dorm. Throughout her college years, Becca has had romance after romance. They never last long, and some of them have ended badly, but she is always ready to plunge into the next one. I don’t have that kind of optimism. Or bravery.

  So I’ve been single my entire life. Becca has convinced me to go on a few dates over the years, but they were always such disasters, I never tried for a second date with anyone. Becca sometimes asks me if I’m really ok graduating college as a virgin, but I always tell her it’s not a big deal.

  Sure, I thought it would have happened by now, but I’m not going to beat myself up over it. It’s not like I don’t want to fall in love or find my soulmate, but I figure it will happen when it’s supposed to. I don’t need any distractions right now anyway.

  “You want a ride home?” Tommy asks.

  I live off campus in a tiny apartment since I like my privacy.

  “No thanks,” I say. “I have my bike.”

  Tommy nods. I glance up at him as he tosses his curly hair off his forehead. Becca has suggested more than once that I should just date Tommy, but there’s no spark between us. Tommy would be a convenient boyfriend though. He’s always around, and he understands pre-med life.

  But I don’t want to date someone just because he’s convenient.

  Tommy heads to the parking lot. He lives off-campus as well, but he has a car. I unlock my bike from the rack and swing my bag into the metal basket. I pop my helmet on my head and set off.

  It feels good to stretch my legs by pedaling after long hours in the library. I’m not super athletic, but I enjoy hiking and running and biking.

  As I pedal down the familiar streets, I reflect on how Becca is always so willing to put her heart on the line and fall in love. I don’t have low self-esteem or anything; I know that with my blue eyes and dark hair, I’m attractive enough. I didn’t think I would still be a virgin at twenty though. Not that it’s a ridiculously old age to be a virgin. I just figured I would meet some fabulous guy in college who would coincidentally also get into the same medical school and my l
ife would be perfect and neat.

  In my most vulnerable moments, it has been hard to watch Becca find connection with loads of guys, or to watch my other friends find boyfriends and fulfilling relationships while I stand on the sidelines, my nose buried in a book.

  I shake my head and focus on the road as the sky starts to get dark. I’m done feeling sorry for myself. If I had found a boyfriend freshman year and lost my virginity, maybe he would have just been a massive distraction. Maybe he would have broken my heart, and then I would have been too devastated to focus on schoolwork and I wouldn’t have gotten into my dream med school in New York City.

  Everything happens for a reason.

  I turn my bike into the driveway of my apartment. I rent the top floor of a duplex. The house is owned by the guy who lives next door in a bigger house. I fell in love with the place as soon as I saw it. It’s on a quiet street lined with pretty trees, but it’s not too far from campus. Even in the heavy winter snows, it’s easy enough to reach campus by bike or by foot if I need to.

  Plus the landlord, Nate Ramsay, lives next door and is super nice. My stomach does a little flip when I think of Nate. He’s older, but he’s ridiculously handsome. I could barely keep a straight face the day I toured the apartment. I’m not usually the type of girl to get distracted by an attractive man, but my eyes kept darting away from the kitchen with all-new appliances and towards his toned arms and chest. He also has a beard, which I find insanely hot.

  I spent the whole tour adjusting my glasses and trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

  Now that he’s been my landlord for almost two years, I’ve gotten used to it. Mostly.

  At least, I can keep my composure when he makes small talk with me or comes over to fix something in the apartment. We’ve even had nice conversations, and he always asks me about school and life. I can mostly keep my eyes focused on his chiseled face and not his body.

  He probably thinks I’m a total weirdo.

  It’s like I’m sabotaging my own love life. I don’t even try to find a spark with college guys because it’s too much trouble, and yet I have a raging crush on a much older man who is totally unavailable and inappropriate.

  Well. He might be available. He definitely doesn’t have a wedding band on his ring finger, and in all my time living next door, I’ve never seen even a hint of a girlfriend.

  I shake my head. Still totally inappropriate.

  As I slow my bike, the front wheel catches on a stone, and I tumble from the bike. I catch myself with one hand, but I land hard on my other knee.

  I bite back and curse and roll out from under the bike until I’m sitting. My palm is stinging, and I know I’ll have a bruise on my knee, but it’s nothing serious. I’m more embarrassed than in pain.

  I glance towards the sidewalk to make sure no one witnessed my pathetic fall, then I grab my bag and hoist myself up to my feet.

  I’m congratulating myself on having no witnesses to my clumsiness, when a deep voice emerges from behind me.

  “You ok? That was quite a fall.”

  Oh no. Not him. Not now. My cheeks turn bright red as I turn and see Nate Ramsay standing beside his house, a bag of trash in his hand.

  Chapter Two

  Nate

  I’m finishing up an assignment for work when I hear her bike wheels hitting the gravel.

  Over the last two years, it’s become both a familiar and an enticing sound. It’s comforting too, to know the exact second Cynthia Lannon gets home from school.

  I’ve been sequestered in my home office all afternoon. I got into the computer and software business early in life. I made a lot of money fast, but instead of going crazy in my twenties and spending it helter-skelter like some of my colleagues did, I tucked it away. I wasn’t interested in expensive clothes or fancy gadgets. I just wanted to have something interesting to do, and I wanted to establish a home.

  I got married young, which was a big swing and a miss at establishing a home. When that didn’t work out, I focused on saving up to own a property. The college town of Belmont, NY ended up being the ideal place for me. It’s quiet and out of the way, but close enough to the city that I can take the train down for business if need be.

  My sister lives only an hour away, so I can visit her and her family when I want to, and she’s the only family member I care about seeing.

  I spent ten years making this house into my perfect space, and renting out the duplex next door for extra income.

  Sometimes I do look around my office, perfectly designed to fit my large desk, my three computers, and everything else I need and sigh. Now that there’s nothing left to do on the house, I sometimes feel like I’ve entered a very early retirement. Yes, I still work and exercise and travel, but I have no driving purpose in life.

  I glance out the window. That’s the reason I find myself spying on Cynthia so often. I have no other distractions, so of course my eye wanders over to the adorable college student renting out my apartment.

  I’ve been renting to college students for about ten years, ever since I purchased the property. The size, price and location is perfect for students who prefer to live off-campus. When I need a renter, I just post it on the campus bulletin, give a few tours, and then go with the person who seems the most responsible. If something is broken, I head over and fix it, but that’s the extent of my interaction with the tenants.

  Cynthia was different from the start. Almost two years ago, she showed up for her tour with a backpack so big, I thought she was going to keel over. She explained right off the bat that she was pre-med, and the massive bag made sense. She was wearing loose-fitting jeans, but when she bent over to inspect the cabinets in the bathroom, the fabric hugged her curves. I looked away, mortified that I was caught staring at a girl who had to be about twenty years my junior.

  The compelling thing about Cynthia, I decided after that apartment tour, was that she didn’t demand to be looked at. She wasn’t decked out in the usual glitz that girls her age used to attract attention. She didn’t wear bright clothes or expressive makeup. Her large blue eyes were hidden behind glasses. It wasn’t that she was insecure. It was that she seemed to only want to be taken seriously as a student.

  Of course she got back to me with her application in record time, so I gave her the apartment. I figured I would lose interest. I was just having an off day. Maybe my wandering eye was just a hint that I needed to jump back into the meager dating pool for the single over-thirties in town.

  I didn’t lose interest. If anything, my interest only grew as Cynthia settled in next door. About a month after she moved in, the dishwasher was having issues, so I went over there to check it out. I admired the way she had organized her space. She had a big desk pushed up against the window, and the kitchen was as neat as a pin. It wasn’t totally devoid of personality though. She had postcards of paintings taped up on the walls. Mementos from museums she had visited, she explained.

  She had been wearing leggings and an oversized turtleneck sweater that day, and I had never seen anything so enticing. As I worked on the dishwasher, she observed me with a keen eye, her eyes sparkling from behind her glasses. She asked me what I was doing as I pulled out my toolbox, and she said she wanted to be able to learn to fix it herself the next time it acted up.

  I secretly prayed she wouldn’t learn a thing. I wanted more excuses to chat with her. Lucky for me, as smart as Cynthia was, she wasn’t exactly handy around the house. I didn’t go over often, but every now and then, a doorknob would come loose, or the window would be jammed. Every time I swung by to fix a minor problem, I noticed something else enticing about Cynthia. The way the ends of her dark hair curled, just a bit. The way she always smelled faintly of lilacs. The way she talked fast when I asked her about a topic she was passionate about.

  Often, it had occurred to me just how pathetic it was for me to be lusting after a twenty-year-old.

  I can’t help it though. Cynthia’s not just a pretty face and a gorgeous body. She’s
got a brain, and she’s charming and engaging. It’s easier to talk to her than it is to talk with any of the divorcee’s I usually date. Plus, she’s not jaded or cynical. My last serious relationship was five years ago, and it was with a woman my age who had also gone through a nasty divorce like myself. The two of us were so skeptical about long term relationships and monogamy, we didn’t even try that hard. You couldn’t even really call us an actual relationship.

  After that, I took it easy from anything serious for a while. And now, I don’t even look at other women. Not when I have Cynthia right next door.

  She’s graduating soon though, and I think about that fact way more than I should. She told me she got into medical school in New York City. I was happy for her, especially given the way her face lit up when she casually shared the news. But the city might as well be the other side of the world. I’ve gotten used to seeing her right here, outside my window. What will I look forward to when I can no longer catch glimpses of her?

  Just a few short months and Cynthia Lannon will be gone from my life. It’s probably for the best. Nothing is ever going to happen between us.

  Although, there have been moments when I thought there was something. I’ll catch her looking at me in a certain way, or we’ll get caught up in a conversation, and it will just feel so natural and easy.

  And I hate myself for knowing this, but she’s never had a boyfriend. I’ve noticed there has never been a guy visitor to her place. It’s not like I have a 24-hour watch on her window, but I’m fairly certain there’s been no sleepovers. She mentioned once, offhand, that she never really dated.