Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 5

  He clutches my leg and peeks out at her. My little man has a huge crush on Lyla Stevens. She’s fourteen though, so I think his chances are minimal at best, even if he does have Riggins blood in him.

  “Hey Lyla,” I say, fishing in my back pocket for my wallet. I slap a twenty in her hand. “Mind watching Roman tonight? I was thinking I might indulge some. You’d need to get him home when he’s done and tuck him in.”

  She smiles down at the twenty. “Sure! Come on, Romeo. Wanna go up to the stage and see Cameron?”

  Roman scuttles out from behind me and grabs her hand, not even looking back as she leads him through the crowds. Little traitor, I think, smirking after him.

  A crowd of people are dancing near the stage, where Jason and Cameron are already strumming out an upbeat tune perfect for dancing. Jason’s raspy country twang punctuates the beat as he drawls a story about lost love and fried chicken into the microphone. I recognize almost everyone. Our town isn’t middle-of-nowhere small, but there are only just above a thousand residents. Of those thousand, a little over half come to things like this. It doesn’t take long until everyone’s face starts to look familiar.

  I see Landon Taylor dancing with Amy Stalls. He’s trying far, far too hard, and she’s politely trying to avoid getting bumped by his gyrating hips. There’s the Waverly’s, who are watching with a judgmental seriousness from the sidelines as usual. Their gray eyebrows seem permanently drawn down in a look of disappointment. Roxy Pierce is swaying and slowly dragging her hands over her young body as she dances by herself, completely ignoring the feel of the music and opting for something more sexual.

  I catch a glimpse of Timmy Page and his girl, Becca Stipe, arguing behind the stage. From the looks of it, Timmy fucked up again and he’s trying to talk his way out of it. Becca is stony faced and doesn’t seem to be budging. They’ll be hand in hand sipping milkshakes at Red’s by tomorrow though.

  I sigh, making my way through the crowd toward the coolers where I know I’ll be able to find some beer. Jason and Cameron always bring more than enough booze for everyone.

  I twist the bottle open and turn, surveying the crowd as I swill down a few gulps. I spot Tara and Mark. Seeing them doesn’t strike up any feelings of jealousy. The only feeling is protectiveness for Roman. My brother isn’t the kind of man I want in my son’s life. Mark and Tara are dancing toward the edge of the crowd. Mark is behind Tara. His hands are pressed to her hips, fingertips inching toward her crotch as she presses her ass into him, swaying her hips and closing her eyes.

  I grunt in disgust and down another gulp of the beer.

  “Real nice, isn’t it?” asks a voice beside me.

  I turn to see Sandra. She’s holding a beer by the throat and looking toward Tara and Mark too. Sandra wears a turquoise dress that is just tight enough around her ass to make me want to stare. There’s a chill in the night and it has her nipples hard. Looking at the bulge of her tits and the perfect point of her nipples is almost too much. I’ve been able to resist seriously considering fucking her so far, but I feel like I can practically picture her naked. And fuck. I’m tired of imagining. I want the real thing. It was only a few days ago that she moved in, and I’m already almost out of willpower. Not a good sign.

  I want to see her curly brown hair between my legs as she takes me in her mouth. I want to feel her soft skin under my fingertips, against my hips as I pound into her. I want her. The fact that getting hitched to her would solve all my problems doesn’t hurt, either. But that’s a shitty thought, and I try not to dwell on it. She’d have to know what was really going on, but what woman is going to agree to get married under those conditions?

  I make a dismissive sound. “She’s a big girl. She can do what she wants.”

  Sandra looks at me in that irritating way women do, like she knows I’m not saying exactly what I mean. From the looks of it, she’s not going to stop staring at me like that unless I just talk.

  “She’s making a fucking mistake, obviously,” I add grudgingly. “I guess if it was anyone other than my brother I really wouldn’t give a shit.”

  “So you do care?” asks Sandra.

  I shrug. “Not about her, no. I care that my brother is apparently a bigger prick than I realized. I care that him being with her means he’s in Roman’s life.”

  “Yeah,” says Sandra, sipping down some of her beer. “He is that.”

  The music blares over us and people move past, making me feel like we’re rocks in a stream, unmoved by the current. Separate from the rest.

  “Was he always like this with you?” asks Sandra. “Your brother, I mean.”

  I eye her. Why is she trying to get me to open up? I’m starting to consider the possibility that she and I could start something casual. Sex with no strings attached, maybe. I don’t plan to start spilling my guts out for her though. If that’s what she wants, she can look somewhere else.

  I shrug.

  She purses her lips, laughing a little. “Right. I forgot the silent part of the strong silent type. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Am I allowed to ask how you’ve been? I mean, since the divorce. I spent so much time talking to Tara about it and never really thought about your side, until…”

  “I’ve been fine. Better.” Except for the part where I divorced her before getting full ownership of my shop. I wasn’t going to subject Roman to that shit for a day longer than I had to. After I found out she cheated it just got worse. Fast. It wasn’t a good environment for a kid, and I had to do something. Besides, there was no way in hell I wanted to have another baby with her once I saw the real her. Trying to control the damage she can do to Roman is a big enough job as it is.”

  “That’s why you practically live in your garage and never go out anymore?”

  I clutch my beer bottle a little tighter, looking down at her. She shrinks back some from my gaze, but still holds my eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

  Sandra sighs. “Look, Reid. As far as I see it, we have a common enemy, and he’s currently groping your ex-wife and my best friend. He’s also threatening to destroy something we both love. This town. So maybe we can just… I don’t know, agree to play nice for a while?”

  “Play nice…” I say softly, smirking. “You want to play?”

  She swallows, looking down. “I didn’t mean like that. I just mean--”

  I feel the beer tingling through me, dulling my inhibitions and my good sense. Normally, I wouldn’t be petty enough to dance with my ex-wife’s best friend just to piss her off. But I’ve already had a few beers, and I’m having a hard time with the whole, ‘why not’ question. The part of me that would never consider leading a girl on because I need to get married or I lose my shop is quiet, too. All that’s left is the pulsing of my cock and the knowledge that the woman in front of me is fucking gorgeous.

  “I know what you meant. Let’s dance,” I say, grabbing her and pulling her toward the dance floor.

  “But--” she stammers.

  Her voice is drowned out as we get closer to the speakers and the stage. The song has a driving beat, and I fall into it effortlessly, my hands finding Sandra’s body. Her eyelids go heavy as I touch her, mouth slightly open as she looks down to where our hips meet. She’s stiff at first, but I let my hands and body guide her, coaxing her into loosening up, inch by inch. Sandra bites her lip slowly, keeping her eyes down in the most irresistibly sexy way before flicking them up to meet mine. She runs a hand through her hair and lets herself go, rocking her shoulders and hips, finding the rhythm and riding it with me. The people around us blur into insignificance. There’s only her and those dark blue eyes locked on mine. Nothing else.

  My hand finds it’s way to the small of her back and then her ass, where I squeeze a healthy handful and press her into me. She grinds herself into me, the friction of her belly against me like bliss against my rock-hard cock.

  I bend my neck down and til
t her chin up. She closes her eyes, body still swaying and pressing to the music. Her head extends toward me, mouth open. I take her invitation, kissing her recklessly, plunging my tongue into her mouth and finding hers, swirling against her, losing myself in the moment. Fuck she tastes good.

  “What the fuck?” demands a familiar voice.

  I open one eye, not ready to break the kiss. When I see Tara staring at me, face a mask of fury with hands planted on her hips, I reluctantly pull back.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Tara asks Sandra. She punctuates her question with a hard push to Sandra’s chest.

  I move between them instantly. “Don’t put your hands on her,” I say carefully.

  “Or what?” asks Mark, moving to stand beside Tara.

  “Please, give me an excuse to break your fucking teeth,” I say dryly to my brother.

  Mark tries to smile off my threat, but I can see the hint of discomfort in his features. “Of course. My big brother, the barbarian. Everything ends with a threat.”

  “Yeah. Sounds about right. So fuck off. Both of you.”

  Tara looks at me and shakes her head. “You’re supposed to be watching Roman and you’re here groping this slut, drunk off your ass?”

  “Watch your mouth,” I warn. “ And Roman is with Lyla. He’s taken care of.”

  “Slut?” asks Sandra. “If I’m a slut for dancing with a single guy, what are you for fucking your ex-husband’s brother?”

  “Dancing?” asks Tara. “It looked like you were shoving your tongue down his throat to me.”

  I sigh, realizing this is going nowhere. “Tara can fuck Mark all she wants. Just like you can kiss whoever you want,” I say, pulling Sandra close and kissing her hard and deep, moving my hands across her until I don’t even hear Tara trying to get my attention anymore. When we finally pull apart, Tara and Mark are gone.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s get some more drinks.”

  Sandra’s face is flushed and her chest heaves for breath. “Don’t you have to drive Roman home?” she asks.

  “Nah,” I say. “Lyla’s taking him home and getting him in bed. She’s a good kid. She will stay over until I get home. I’ll just toss her some more money if I’m late.”

  Sandra bites her lip. “I think I just completely ruined things with my best friend. Yeah, I could use a drink.”

  I grin. “I could use a few dozen.”

  8

  Sandra

  I start the long walk to my bakery, hardly thinking about anything else on my walk besides the throbbing pain in my head and the lingering confusion about last night. Reid and I had so much to drink. I can barely remember anything. I hardly even remember getting out of bed.

  I unlock the bakery and get to work. I still have about thirty minutes before Jennifer and Lauren are due to show up. I use it to mix up a batch of dough and start separating it to sit out for proofing. I have a regimented system for proofing my dough, and I stick a timer onto the tray and set it for specific times based on the type of dough. Most bakers just set it and pull it after at least a day has passed, or two days, depending on the type of dough. I control it down to the hour, and that’s part of what makes my product so delicious.

  My employees know every last ingredient needs to be measured and added to the most careful degree. I take pride in my product, and I’ve spent countless hours experimenting with tweaking the amounts of each ingredient to find something close to perfection. But the work is never done, which is half the fun. I’m always looking for new ways to improve my recipes.

  Before long, I’ve forgotten my headache and lost myself in the work. I’m covered in flour and crusty dough up to the elbows when Lauren arrives.

  “Hey, girl!” she says cheerily. “I was hoping you’d be in today.”

  I look up from the dough I’m portioning out and smile apologetically. “I know. I’ve been a shitty boss the last couple days.”

  Lauren’s a few years younger than me, and she’s wearing the uniform with just enough of her own twist on it that I can’t quite get mad at her for it. Where she’s supposed to wear black pants she has opted for yoga pants, and where her shirt is supposed to be white without decals, hers has a small, decorative pattern around the hem. She has straight, brown hair and an upturned nose that’s just a little bit too big on an otherwise almost perfect face.

  I’ve known Lauren since I was in high school, but like everyone else I was friends with, she went to the local school here while I went to Pensworth Academy in the next district over. Pensworth was full of stuck up, wealthy beyond belief, and completely out of touch kids. I didn’t make a single lasting friend there. The only people I ever enjoyed were the kids from other schools I got to meet when we traveled for theater and band. I fell in love with this little town when we first came here my Freshman year. I met Tara, Lauren, and Jennifer at a band meet and never lost touch with them.

  Tara was my age, while Lauren and Jennifer were there as middle schoolers, but we still hit it off all the same. Now Lauren and Jennifer are working here to pay their way through their final years of college, and I can hardly believe how far we’ve all come only for it to all end because of Reid’s greedy brother. I’m not going to just lose my bakery and my ability to give my friends a job, but I’m going to lose the town I spent my childhood dreaming about moving to. It still doesn’t feel real.

  This place has been like a beacon for as long as I could remember. It was like the shining light beyond the bars of my prison, at least that was how my melodramatic teen self thought of it. If I could just get away from the dinner parties, bow ties, gowns, and fake smiles. If I could just make it here. Everything would be okay. I could forge my own identity and make my own life. Everything would be perfect.

  Lauren puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic look. “You’re our friend first, Sandra. Boss second. We’re happy to cover for you.”

  I smile, feeling tears threatening to form.

  “Besides,” adds Lauren casually, “As our friend and boss, we know you’ll find some way to reward us.”

  I laugh. “Is that right?”

  Lauren shrugs, dragging a finger through the flour on the table idly. “I mean. If we could come in an hour later for the rest of the week, it’d really help to regain the strength we spent covering for you.”

  “Deal,” I say, smirking.

  She does a small jump of joy and hugs me. “You’re the best.”

  My smile falters a little when I realize losing the bakery is going to mean having tell Lauren and Jennifer they’ve lost their jobs too.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Lauren.

  “Nothing,” I say. “I uh, just have had a strange few days. Living next door to Reid Riggins has been…”

  Lauren quirks an eyebrow. “Sexy?”

  “Try confusing.”

  “What’s to be confused about? Which hole you want him to put it in first?”

  “Oh my God, Lauren,” I say, slapping her arm. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “No. Reid Riggins is unbelievable. You let me know if you ever need someone to watch the house for you. I’ll keep an eye on Reid too, you know, just to make sure he doesn’t come around and mess with your things, or wear too much clothing. It’s hot out, he shouldn’t be risking overheating, you know?”

  I’m about to tell her to get to work when I hear Jennifer arriving. “You’re back!” She squeals. Jennifer is shorter than Lauren and I. Her black hair is cut pixie style, framing her heart-shaped face and soft, feminine features. Where Lauren has a sort of forceful power to her personality and frame, Jennifer is delicate and fragile. She has narrow shoulders and a slight build and she’s easily the sweetest person I know.

  “Sandra just agreed to give us an extra hour of sleep every day for the rest of this week,” says Lauren.

  Jennifer’s eyes widen. “Really? You didn’t threaten to beat her up or something, did you, Lauren?”

  Lauren scoffs. “Sandra didn’t make me take it that fa
r.”

  I eye her. “Like you could take me.”

  Lauren drops into a fighting stance and fires a slow-motion punch at my face. I gently slap a flour-covered hand across her face, easily getting inside her slow-motion defense. For a moment her face is frozen, a white handprint on her cheek and flecks of white still drifting down from the impact. Then her surprise melts to laughter. Jennifer and I laugh along with her. It feels good to forget my problems, even just for a moment.

  The three of us effortlessly dive into the work. I continue prepping dough, Lauren decorates a cake for Timmy Watkin’s 14th birthday, and Jennifer sets up the display cases with fresh product. Before long, the shop is buzzing with activity as person after person strolls in and collects their daily treat. At least ninety percent of my business comes from regulars. Once I figured that out, it made ordering supplies every week extremely simple and efficient.

  It’s getting close to my lunch break when the door swings open in a way that causes me to glance up. Reid Riggins storms in, clad in a white shirt dusted with oil.

  Jennifer and Lauren freeze beside me as well, transfixed by the sight of him. “I could stare at those forearms all day,” mutters Lauren. She rushes up to the counter to greet him.

  “Reid, what a nice surprise. Can I get you anything, hon? My treat.”

  Her treat? She’s damn right it will be. I’m not about to give away free products to him, especially not so Lauren can try to get in his pants. I try not to acknowledge the jealous pang in my chest. He’s not mine. I’ve spent a lot of energy trying to convince him and myself of that. I have no right to be jealous.

  Reid completely ignores her, stepping up to the counter across from me and glaring. “Sandra. I need you to come outside, now.”

  Lauren purses her lips in a way that says she will accept her defeat, for now. Jennifer stares at me, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. It would almost be comical if the look on Reid’s face wasn’t intense enough to burn holes straight through me.

  “You… what?” I ask, feeling more than a little confused. There’s also a distant hint of pride in knowing he came for me. He looked straight past Lauren, hardly even noticing her because of me.