The Daddy Dilemma: A Brother's Best Friend Enemies To Lovers Romance (Hot Daddy Book 3)

by Tracy Lorraine

  “My eyes. My eyes,” I moan.

  Rhian rolls hers but thankfully removes her new husband from her neck so we can catch up.

  “So what happened to you last night? I came to find you to say thank you for everything and you’d disappeared.”

  “I... uh... I had one too many and took myself to bed.”

  “Alone?”

  My stomach twists. I don’t lie to my best friend, but this is one truth that I think is probably best I took to my grave. “Of course. By the time I’d had a couple of losers hit on me, I wanted to be on my own.”

  Her eyes narrow at me. She’s not buying any of this. She knows me too well. I need a swift change of subject.

  “So was it everything you dreamt it would be?”

  “And so much more. It was beyond perfect. He’s beyond perfect,” she coos.

  Shoving my fingers in my mouth, I make a show of how that kind of confession makes me feel about my big brother.

  Rhian chats away about how incredible yesterday was and I can’t help feeling like we could well have been at two different events. Nothing about yesterday made me want to follow their lead down the aisle, but listening to her animatedly reliving it, you’d think it would convince anyone to tie the knot.

  When I think enough time has passed to ask without looking suspicious, I turn to Jack. “Where’s your best man this morning?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. That seat right next to you is reserved for him. He probably spent the whole night shagging. Whoever the lucky lady is has me to thank for it you know? I made him look like that.”

  “Do you feel okay, Reese? You look a bit green.” Rhian looks at me concerned.

  “I’m fine. Just had one too many, you know?” I reply, wondering how cocky my brother would be if right now I thanked him for my sore vagina.

  5

  Brandon

  It’s the wedding breakfast and Christmas Day.

  I don’t want to go downstairs.

  Would they believe me if I faked my own death? I feel 95% dead with this hangover anyway.

  Jesus Christ, I fucked my best mate’s sister at his own wedding reception, and I didn’t just do it once. Oh no, I kept repeating my asshole mistake over and over and over.

  And it was so goooood.

  Shut up brain! Not helping.

  I feel like the biggest shit for leaving while she was sleeping but I figured we both needed some processing time before we had to see each other again.

  Having thrown myself through the shower and still feeling like absolute hell, I dress in jeans and the Christmas jumper Jack is forcing me to wear for his breakfast. There’s no escaping it any longer; plus, I think a cooked breakfast will help considerably.

  Walking into the breakfast room, I scrub a hand through my now much shorter hair which just doesn’t give the same amount of comfort as being able to hide behind the previous long locks. I’m immediately struck by the severe lack of Christmas jumpers amongst those attending. All of those seated stare at me. All of them.

  Jack bellows with laughter and points to a seat. “I was joking when I said we were wearing Christmas jumpers, you great idiot.”

  Fuck my life. If I had the energy, I’d kill the newlywed. I decide that I can look like an idiot or I can adopt my ‘player’ persona again and make out this was my plan all along.

  I look at my captive audience. “So I know this breakfast is to further celebrate the joyful union of Jack and Rhian. However, it is Christmas Day.” I twirl around in my jumper and wiggle my arse for full effect. “So to that end it’s time for the ladies to all receive a present from me.”

  Even though my head is banging, I grab a piece of mistletoe off the table and I walk around to every woman there and give them a Christmas kiss.

  Everything is fine until I head towards the bride. There is just her and the other woman I have yet to look in the face left.

  I lower myself towards Rhian. “Step away from my wife.” Jack laughs.

  “Sorry, mate. This is my revenge for the whole jumper thing. I’m stealing a kiss from your beloved.” I kiss her cheek. Rhian giggles.

  Then I head towards my seat and my eyes lock onto Reese. She’s so tense, and her pallor wears the look of the severely hungover. She looks more like a waxwork than she does herself. I swoop down to kiss her cheek.

  “And you can definitely keep your distance from my sister,” Jack yells.

  I smile at him as I kiss her cheek. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.” I wink at Jack.

  “Seriously, you’ve had your fun now.” Jack half-jokes.

  I hold my hands up and take my seat. “I’m done. Time for me to fill up on breakfast.”

  “You’re looking a bit pleased with yourself. Did you score last night?” Rhian asks, a glint in her eye.

  “Me? No. Was too plastered to do anything but fall into my own bed,” I lie.

  The breakfast is awkward given that Reese makes no effort to talk to me whatsoever. She doesn’t even ask me to pass the butter or anything. When Rhian calls her on it, she just offers the excuse of a hangover. It’s extremely obvious that in the cold light of day Reese Connors does not want to acknowledge what happened the night before (and some of the morning after). Or maybe she just wants to talk to you after in private, I consider.

  I carry on eating my fill of breakfast and start to feel much better.

  “You should have stayed the extra night with us all,” Rhian complains. “It’s not too late to add it, you know?”

  “No can do. I’m working Boxing Day evening. The sales will have started; it’ll be really busy.”

  “Yeah, all the sad fuckers who want to buy half-price Christmas crackers for next year.” Reese finally breaks her silence. “I mean, what is wrong with people?”

  “They’re skint?” I counter.

  Reese shrugs. “So don’t buy any at all.”

  “But they want a nice Christmas next year, so they’re doing it on a budget.”

  “They might have money by next Christmas. In the meantime, they’ve got to store Christmas Crackers for a whole year. Is it even worth it?”

  “Well, obviously it is to some people. Those who want to give their family a lovely Christmas.”

  “Just saying I don’t get it.”

  “Well, you have money and you don’t have kids so why would you?”

  The moment the words are out of my mouth I want to eat them back, but it’s too late. Cutlery clatters onto her plate as she pushes back her chair. Then I can see the fight on her face as she picks her cutlery up and puts it on her plate to show she’s finished and wipes her mouth on a napkin. She just cannot lose the stick up her arse. Then she stalks out of the room.

  I look at a horrified Rhian and Jack.

  “I’ll go apologise. I’m sorry. She just pushed my buttons.”

  Last night she was helping me unbutton them. I much preferred that.

  I catch her in the hotel foyer. “Hey, Reese. Wait up. I’m sorry.”

  She swivels around and that ice-cold stare is back. “No, I’m sorry. Sorry I had too much alcohol and slept with a loser like you. What the fuck was I thinking?”

  “I’m not a loser.” She’s pissing me off now.

  “They had to do a pity makeover on you because you were too embarrassing to have at the wedding like you were.”

  That hits hard. I know it’s not completely true. My mate was trying to help me because I have let myself slide, but it still cuts.

  “Well, I think we can safely say that last night was a mistake to never be spoken about again,” I say.

  “Yep, as far as I’m concerned it never happened. Luckily, the fact I was drunk means I’ve blocked most of it from my mind anyway.”

  “I’ll be civil to you at family events but other than that my time trying to be polite to you is done. Bye, Ice Queen.”

  I turn away from her before she has a chance to add any further insults and make my way to my room to pack. I can’t get out of here fast enou
gh. My mouth curls up in a smirk at the fact she has another entire boring day of wedding celebrations to suffer through while I’m out of here.

  When I arrive home, I change out of my jeans and Christmas jumper. My parents live down South and I’ve arranged to see them over the New Year. The house is tidy and lacks any Christmas décor other than the small pile of presents next to the fireplace and the pile of received cards stacked on the coffee table that I can’t be bothered to put up. I make a coffee and open my gifts. As I thought it’s just the usual aftershave, ties, and socks. Once I’ve finished my drink I sigh and look around. Now what do I do with myself? Flicking the TV channels and finding nothing of interest, I decide to go back to bed.

  I may spend a little time thinking about my antics with the Ice Queen, but in my mind I can forget she’s a bitch.

  One month later

  It’s the end of January. I made a New Year’s Resolution to keep my new image intact and to keep the house tidy; the latter because of looking for a new roomie. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to find anyone suitable to house share with, but I’ll keep trying. At least the fact I have my savings means that I can be fussy for another couple of months.

  Appearance wise, it’s been much easier to keep my new look due to the amount of women it’s attracted. I’ve been dating over the last month. My new appearance has given me a confidence I’d been lacking before.

  The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realised I’ve been in some kind of funk for a while. Well no more. Women like Reese are not going to be able to judge me and think I’m some kind of slobby loser. I’m going to show that cow in particular. Her snobbiness has spurred me on in some weird way. I feel uber competitive. She might have the smarts in that she’s a hotshot lawyer, but that doesn’t mean I’m some dumb arse because I didn’t fly through my exams.

  The fact is, I did carpentry at college and have made things for the house on occasion. I’ve never done much with my skills because I got the job at the warehouse and got comfy. But now I’m done with playing safe. It’s time for a change. Over the last month, I’ve cleared the garage out and set it up, ready to start some carpentry. I thought I’d start with some tables and benches and set up an Etsy shop online. For now, it’ll be a hobby but I’m going to see where it takes me. Maybe I’ll become self-employed and own my own business? Then I’ll make a wooden dildo for Miss Reese Connors to stick up her arse, although that space is no doubt already occupied by a stick.

  The thing that annoys me more than anything in the universe is that I can’t forget the sex. I might have been drunk but for the most part I remember that it was so damn good. I need to get her out of my mind and so for that I need to meet other women.

  I’m on the cusp of change and it’s glorious. I’m finding my groove and not only in the wood I’m handling. Oh for God’s sake. I think of handling wood and then I’m picturing my cock in my hand as I drive it into Reese’s pussy.

  I will get that annoying woman out of my head.

  I will.

  6

  Reese

  “I just didn’t expect any of this,” Mrs Harper sobs across from me in my office.

  “I know. It all must have come as a terrible shock. But I can assure you that we’ll fight for everything you deserve.”

  “My parents told me not to marry him,” she cries. “But he seemed so perfect for me. Made me promises that I believed he would keep. I never thought he would cheat. And with our nanny.”

  I pass over a couple more tissues as she cries for everything that bastard did to her.

  “Trust me, Mrs Harper. We’ll—”

  “It’s Vivian, please.”

  “Okay, Vivian. You just focus on yourself and the kids. Leave everything else to me and I’ll make sure he regrets ever betraying you.”

  “Thank you, Reese. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She reaches a hand out and squeezes mine.

  When I first started this job, I thought dealing with emotional clients would be the hard part, but I find sympathising with them remarkably easy, and seemingly I’m good at it if my reputation and success rate is anything to go by.

  “Oh I’m so sorry, I’ve gone over our time once again. I do apologise for making you late.”

  “It’s really no problem. My priority is you right now.” It’s not entirely true, I’m due in a meeting that was meant to start twenty minutes ago that could determine my future success at the company, but I can hardly throw a sobbing woman out of my office. My boss will understand.

  Mrs Harper gathers her stuff, and with a few more sniffles, she heads out of my office to attempt to restart her life.

  I grab my laptop and diary and run for the meeting room.

  All chatter ceases when I step into the room.

  “My apologies. I had a meeting with a client overrun.” I aim my apology at Clive, our managing partner but I quickly glance at Rich and Harriet too.

  They all nod their acceptance and I rush to take a seat.

  My head’s still with Mrs Harper so I mostly miss the first part of the meeting; that is until Clive starts talking about restructuring. He discusses which job roles are likely to go but more importantly he moves onto what could affect me.

  “As you’re already aware, we’re looking to take on a new partner. I already have a good idea in my mind as to who would be a good fit, but we will be setting up meetings with everyone involved in the restructuring in due course.”

  Dragging my eyes from my boss, they lock with Rich’s who’s directly opposite me. His eyes narrow, assessing me just as much as I am him. It’s obvious that we’ll be at the top of the list for that partner role. We’ve both been here the longest and have the best reputations. But as much as I might want it, I know that I’m younger with less experience than him. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight like hell for it though. I believe I deserve it and I’m not going to shy away from proving my worth. Plus, I know secretly I’m Clive’s favourite. He’s told me on more than one occasion of how I remind him of how he was in his early days.

  “That position’s mine and you know it,” Rich whispers in my ear as we make our way out of the meeting.

  “Tell yourself whatever helps you to sleep at night. But I’ve got as much chance as you and you know it. You’re just threatened because I’m younger than you as well as being a woman.”

  “It’s mine, Connors. So don’t be too disappointed and try to smile like you’re happy for me when it’s announced.” Rich disappears into his office, leaving me seething. He knows damn well that I’m just as good, if not better than him.

  As usual, I work much later than I should. By the time I shut my computer down and walk out of the office I’m the only one left. I can’t be the only one in this office without a family to head home to, but it seems that everyone else, including Rich, isn’t as dedicated. Surely that should help tip the scales in my direction?

  I stop at my favourite deli on my way home and pick up something quick for dinner, and of course a cupcake for dessert. I’m usually all for vanilla, but for some reason I didn’t fancy that today and went for chocolate. I’ve got a fully functional kitchen in my apartment; it was one of the reasons I chose the place, but the oven is as clean as it was the day I moved in.

  Flicking on lights, I drop my bags to the counter ready to dish up before heading to my room to get a little more comfortable.

  Slipping off my shoes, I place them inside the floor to ceiling rack in my walk-in wardrobe before stripping off my black pencil skirt and red blouse. I fold both and then place them into the laundry basket ready to be collected.

  Pulling on a cami and a black pair of leggings, I wrap a cashmere shawl around my shoulders and walk into the en suite.

  My steps falter when I see the box I left abandoned last night after chickening out. I managed to put it out of my mind at work like I do everything in my private life, but now I’m home my situation seems more pressing than ever. It’s not even really a situation. My unreli
able body has tricked me before now and I’m sure it’ll do it again. But my period’s almost two weeks late now, so I really do need to find out if I have an issue.

  Shrugging off the shawl, I allow it to drop to the floor before stepping forward and ripping open the box like it’s a plaster I need off my skin.

  I’ll just pee on this thing, find out my body’s just screwing me for shits and giggles and move on with my life; hopefully, as the newest partner at Mortimer and Jones.

  Before I even sit down, I can’t help but pick up the shawl and hang it on the back of the door. I can’t look at that mess while I wait to see the negative sign.

  Happy that everything is in its place, I rip the foil packet and set about following the instructions.

  Putting the toilet lid down, I sit back on it and stare at the stick in my hand.

  The line appears telling me that it’s worked. My heart pounds and my hands tremble as I wait to see what happens in the other window. I’ve no idea why I’m nervous. There’s no way I’m pregnant.

  Laughing at my crazy thoughts, I allow my mind to wander back to my only sexual experience in the past six months. Brandon fucking Weston. Why out of all the men I’ve been with over the years has it got to be him who gives me a serious false alarm?

  I check my watch before I look back at the stick. It’s been over four minutes now. The result should be clear.

  I’m already ready to throw the offending stick in the bin as I look down at it, expecting to see one line in the window.

  I have to do a double take. My legs betray me and I fall back down onto the toilet with a bump.

  “No, no, no.” This test must be wrong.

  Reaching for the box, I check the expiration date. Still over a year’s life on it. “Fuck.”