Down Under With Dad's Best Friend, page 1
Contents
Down Under With Dad's Best Friend
NEWSLETTER
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
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
Collaborations
About the Author
Down Under With Dad's Best Friend
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 252
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2021 by Flora Ferrari
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.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
Down Under With Dad's Best Friend
It was stupid to think I was ready to go on a vacation on my own, my first day in Melbourne, Australia, and I’m already lost.
I’m twenty-one years old, and I thought that after college the next thing to do would be to go explore.
Just one magical trip, one chance to travel the world before I buckle down and find a job.
But I must be hallucinating, or maybe I’ve just totally lost my mind and this is all happening in a dream. There must be some explanation other than reality.
Because the extremely handsome man in a black suit, almost unfairly hot. Like, man of my dreams kind of hot, who comes to my aid is none other than Sean Fogarty.
My dad’s best friend.
And he’s claiming I’m his girlfriend.
The man I’ve had a crush on for as long as I can remember.
I came to Melbourne to explore, he is here for business, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’d much rather explore me.
Under him or over him I don’t care because he’s claiming me as his, even if he is my dad’s best friend.
*Down Under With Dad's Best Friend is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
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Chapter One
Sean
I check the map on my phone one last time, memorizing my route. It’s not something that is unfamiliar to me, having to navigate a new city. And Melbourne isn’t even all that new to me – I’ve been here a few times before.
Still, being away from home always means having to figure out how to get around. Which is why it’s great that I’ve become an expert on just about every transport system in the world by now. Going on all these international trips, I’ve really had to be.
I look up from my phone and head inside the transport hub I’m using this time: Flinders Street station, the easiest way to get anywhere in Melbourne. Or out of it, as it happens. A new train sets off in the direction I want to go pretty regularly, every five or ten minutes, so it’s not like I have to rush to get to the platform. I stroll towards the right part of the station, thinking about getting a coffee and a sandwich or something to eat on the journey.
A couple walking in front of me move aside, and when I look up, it’s like the crowd has parted to show me to her. Some kind of angel dressed all in white, a dress that hugs her every curve. I can only see her from behind, but the cascade of blonde hair down her back as she looks up at the departure boards catches my attention. The light is shining down from the windows of the station above the grand entrance, a ray hitting her just so. I feel like I’m in some kind of ridiculous romantic movie.
Even more so when she turns around, looking up in all directions as if in search of something, and I see her face.
She’s stunning. Young and innocent-looking, probably twenty years younger than me. But that doesn’t matter. She’s gorgeous, smooth, glowing skin, bright blue eyes that seem impossibly large in her face, pink lips that are just poised to kiss. And her body under that dress is a masterpiece – curves in all of the right places, the fabric flowing over every contour.
A visceral reaction stirs inside me. The second I see her properly, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I want to make her mine. I want to possess her, to own her. Not like an object, but like a wild animal that has to be tamed. Even the very thought of other men looking at her right now, the same way that I’m looking at her, makes some kind of jealous rage bubble up inside.
It makes me stop dead in my tracks, unable to move any further. I’ve never felt something like this before. There’s a reason that I’m almost forty years old and still unmarried – most women don’t provoke any reaction from me at all. Especially not the ones who try to throw themselves at me, which is a major turn-off. Doing the line of work that I do, that’s not an uncommon thing. It just makes me feel sick, the thought of being with a woman who is so desperate she would let any man put his hands on her.
But this girl – she’s so pure. So open. I can see it in her face, she isn’t like them. In fact, in my head, I feel like I’m looking at a kindred spirit. Someone who wouldn’t appreciate all the boys that no doubt try to hit on her on a regular basis.
What she needs isn’t a boy. She needs a man.
In all the time that I’m thinking this and watching her, it feels like hours pass. But it can only be a matter of seconds, because my feet have barely stopped moving, and she is still turning around, completing a circle where she stands. She tries to step forward but then shakes her head in a tiny movement and steps to the side instead.
And that’s when I see the man barreling straight for her with his head buried in his phone, paying no attention at all to the beautiful angel in his path.
Chapter Two
Candace
I don’t know what I’m doing here.
It was stupid to think I was ready to go on a vacation on my own. I’m twenty-one years old, and I thought that after college, the next thing to do would be to go explore. Not quite a gap year – just a gap summer, because I’ve got to find some kind of work to sustain myself soon enough. But just one magical trip, one chance to see the world.
And of course, I couldn’t make it simple for myself. I had to go almost to the other side of the world. I had to try backpacking in Australia – or, at least, the safer version of backpacking that my Dad insisted I promise on doing. No accepting rides from strangers or getting into trucks. No getting lost in the outback. Just one city, and just one week to spend in it.
I would love to be here longer, but it’s not like I could afford more time at the cheap hotel I picked out. And getting there was hassle enough. I got lost at least seventeen times in the airport, and I just about managed to make it here to Flinders Street last night and then walk to the hotel. But I was so tired from the flight and dazed, now I can’t even remember which direction I came from – or how to get back there.
I know that I’m supposed to get on a particular train if I want to go out to all of the tourist attractions I picked out to visit. What I can’t figure out is where to take that train from, because there are so many different lines to take that it’s making my head hurt. I struggle badly enough when I’m in New York City, and I don’t even go there on my own – what made me think I could handle Melbourne?
I bite my lip, checking the train guide I picked up again, and look around. Is it that direction I’m supposed to go in? No, that doesn’t seem right – maybe it’s over here…
I gasp in surprise as someone walks right into me, colliding with me and nearly knocking me over. Even worse is the iced coffee he’s holding, which immediately spills down the front of my dress.
My white dress.
One of only six outfits I brought with me, which was supposed to at last me all day.
I gasp again as a piece of ice slides down my chest, disappearing under the fabric of my dress, where I realize in a panic I can’t fish out. Not without making a very public exhibition of myself, at least. It slides down freezing cold, making me shudder despite the heat of the day I just left behind.
“Watch where you’re going!” the man hisses at me, and I look up to realize that he’s staring at
“Me?” is all I can think to say. As if there’s anyone else standing here in the middle of the station, covered in iced coffee. I look down at myself and see a brown stain that seems to occupy the whole of the front of my dress. I feel my cheeks flaming up – I can’t walk around like this.
“You bloody tourists, always getting in the way,” the man carries on. He’s dressed in a suit, so I guess he must be on his way to work or some kind of meeting. “What have you got in your head there, air? You stepped out right in front of me. And look – it’s on my briefcase, too!”
I look at the object he’s shaking in his hand and see that yes, as a matter of fact, there is iced coffee dripping from the outside of his leather briefcase as well. It’s also all over the floor. The takeout cup in his hand is only half full now.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, more out of habit and shock than anything else, because I’m not truly sure why he’s yelling at me. Aren’t I the one covered in coffee right now?
“Well, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to replace my coffee – and my briefcase?” he demands. I can only stare at him. I don’t have enough money with me to start doing things like that. I’m only here for a week.
I can feel my heart beating so fast in my chest. What am I supposed to do now? Is he going to cause a scene if I don’t give him some money? Could I get in trouble with the police?
“Excuse me, sir?” someone says – another male voice, but this time with a familiar American accent. “I’m going to need you to back off.”
Chapter Three
Sean
I can’t watch this happen.
I step forward when he begins yelling, clearing the distance between us – though it takes me longer than I would like, given that I have to sidestep all the people trying to cut across in front of me. When I finally do get close enough to say something, it’s in time to hear him make a ridiculous request.
He just ruined a beautiful girl’s dress, and he’s the one that’s angry about it all. Go figure.
“Excuse me, sir,” I say, drawing myself up to all of my six feet three inches. I’m gratified to see that I tower above him – not to mention that my shoulders are also noticeably wider. “I’m going to need you to back off.”
The guy opens his mouth to protest, looks at me, and seems to have second thoughts. And then, I guess because he’s an Aussie, he protests anyway.
“What’s it got to do with you?” he sneers. “What are you, her boyfriend?”
“Yes,” I say, going with the momentum and hoping she won’t mind as I slip a protective arm around her shoulders. “And you’ve just ruined my girlfriend’s dress. Now, the thing is, I know how much it cost, because I paid for it. It was a special birthday gift. So, if anyone’s going to be paying anything, it’s you. Do you have a couple of thousand dollars on you?”
His expression falters a sneer that doesn’t quite have enough gas to stay in place anymore. “What? It’s not my fault. She wasn’t looking!”
“Thing is, I was,” I tell him, gesturing over in the direction where I came from. “I watched you walk right into her because you were so busy looking at your phone. Now, come on. We haven’t got all day. Are you going to do a wire transfer, or have you got the cash?”
He stutters, turning a deep purple color. “I’m not paying you anything!” he says.
“Then,” I say, leaning in close to his face. “I suggest you get out of my face before I decide to make you pay.”
His mouth moves a couple of times like he wants to say something else. But I guess he can’t think of anything, because a moment later, he directs one last glare at the girl and then stalks away, angrily striding out of the station.
“Are you alright?” I ask, taking my arm from around her shoulders and turning to look at her. I don’t want to lose that contact between us – I could feel the heat of her skin against my bare arm, and I wanted more. But I don’t want to come on too strong and scare her off, especially not after coming up against that asshole.
“I, um,” she says, swallowing hard. Looking at her now, I can’t help but think she looks a little familiar. Is it just because I’m staring at the woman of my dreams? I don’t know what it is about her that rings a distant bell in my head.
But that thought can wait – because she obviously isn’t alright.
“Are you staying somewhere near here?” I ask. “Your hotel?”
She looks up at me blankly, then down at herself, as if she’s taking in the coffee stain again. We’re not getting anywhere. I remember passing by a nice little café a couple of streets away, back out of the main tourist area by a short walk. She needs to sit down, get something sweet in her, and maybe some water. I take a chance and reach out to touch her forehead, lo and behold, she’s burning up.
That could easily explain the confusion before, and the fact that she’s deep in shock now. She’s dehydrated.
“Come with me,” I say, using the same authoritative tone that I use at work. It seems to get through to her because when I turn to lead her away, she comes with me.
Time to get some fluids in my mystery girl, and with any luck, I might actually get to learn her name – and maybe even her number.
Chapter Four
Candace
I feel like my brain is broken.
I must be hallucinating, or maybe I’ve just totally lost my mind and this is all happening in a dream. There must be some explanation other than reality.
There I was, dealing with this awful guy who spilled his drink all over me, a shock of ice to my overheated body. I couldn’t work out whether it was welcome, or a nightmare. And then this man strides over to rescue me, like something out of a movie.
This extremely handsome man in a black suit, jacket slung over one of his arms and an expensive-looking black briefcase in one hand, a black tie loosened around his neck. He has a shock of dark hair with a small touch of grey above a chiseled face, so much taller than me and well-built. I would probably think he looks like Batman if it wasn’t for the fact that I know exactly who he is.
Sean Fogarty.
And that’s where it all starts to fall apart. Because I know there’s no logical reason at all for me to run into Sean Fogarty, of all people, in Melbourne. And there’s definitely no reason for Sean Fogarty to look at me first like a stranger, and then put his arm around me and claim that I’m his girlfriend.
So, I’ve lost my mind. But I might as well go with it. I don’t know if I have any other choice. It feels like my brain isn’t working at all, and at least this man did just save me from being threatened by a stranger. Whoever he is.
I follow him when he commands me too, feeling exhausted by it all. I just want to sit down and rest, but I don’t complain. For some reason, I feel as though I can trust him. Maybe it’s because my brain keeps telling me, against all the odds, that this is Sean. My Dad’s best friend.
I haven’t even seen Sean since I was a little kid. He and my Dad both travel for work, and it was probably the last time they were both in New York that I saw them together. Since then, they’ve met up around the world, and I’ve seen my Dad post pictures of them together plenty of times. When I grew older, I started to realize that my Dad has probably the hottest best friend in the world. Almost unfairly hot. Like, man of my dreams kind of hot.
