Single Dad on Top (Complete Series Boxed Set), page 25
Do I?
Dang, now I’m late. I shove Dell’s drawer closed and snatch the closest dress, a lovely wraparound green number that makes my boobs look smashing. Dell’s eyes never fail to get mesmerized by them when I wear it.
I toss a pair of chocolate wedge heels on the floor and slide my feet inside. Then I snatch a pair of emerald earrings as I pass the jewelry tray. Within minutes, I’ve hurried down the hall to eat a quick bite before I have to rush downstairs to the Child Spa.
Dell is in the breakfast nook, spooning oatmeal into Grace in her high chair. She’s wearing one of the samples from the baby wear line he bought. It’s a red velour jumper dress that reads “Got Math?”
As expected, his gaze gravitates to my cleavage and lingers on the swells. I lean over to kiss Grace on her fuzzy pale head, knowing I’ve just added more boob fuel to the fire.
He clears his throat. “So, she takes a nap at eleven if you can get away.”
This makes me smile. It’s true that on my work days, I do sometimes take a break and visit him. It’s just a forty-floor ride that separates us, since my Child Spa is in the same building.
A glance at his workout shorts tells me he’s more than a little anxious for my return.
“I’ll try to slip away,” I say.
Bernard enters with a plate of fluffy egg whites and sizzling bacon. I sit down to eat them, watching Dell’s attempts to spoon oatmeal into Grace. Most of it ends up on her bib and face.
He has an empty cereal bowl. I tilt my head toward it. “You didn’t eat the last of the Cap’n Crunch, now, did you?” I ask.
Bernard reappears with a box. “I would not allow that to happen.”
“Uggh, that’s the one without berries,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
He looks at it. “My apologies. Would you like a bowl with berries?” His sneer on the word berries suggests that it’s an affront to call the dyed puffs of sugar the same name as a healthy fruit.
It’s an old joke around here already.
“Not today,” I say. “I’m late.” I swallow another bite of eggs, pick up the last piece of bacon, and lean in for a kiss from Dell. “Can’t miss the morning drop-offs!”
Grace waves her arms and gurgles happily. I kiss her again too. “Work on that army crawl, darling,” I say to her. She’s just started to figure out how to scoot across the floor with her elbows. She’ll be big-time on the move soon.
“I’ll text you when she’s asleep,” Dell says, eyebrow lifted.
I shoot him a knowing smile.
Life is good to us.
Chapter 3
Dell
After Arianna’s off, I give up on cereal for Grace and pull her out of the high chair. Bernard arrives to whisk the mess away, and I remove her bib and take her with me to the study.
She’s pretty good about playing in this bouncy contraption with a dozen buttons and buzzers while I do a quick look through the business news of the day. If she fusses, I can generally get away with holding her in my lap and reading the article summaries out loud. If I use the Goofy voice while I do it, she’ll giggle all the way through the Wall Street Journal headlines.
But when I set her down and power up my computer, a notification pops up to call my mother. A quick glance at the calendar confirms that it’s been fourteen days since I spoke with her. She keeps track.
I would prefer to wait until tomorrow, when I’m at work and Grace isn’t there to potentially alert my mother to her existence. I know it’s shameful that I’ve kept both the baby and Arianna a secret. But I’m not ready. She’ll want me to come visit, and then there’s the issue of privacy, and how I’ll explain all this, and not to mention the worst of all.
My father.
My hand stills over the cell phone charging on my desk. I don’t want Grace to know him. At all. I won’t have him saying one negative thing to her, ever. I’m not sure I can control myself if he does. A lifetime of resentment might bubble over.
Still, it’s her day. If I don’t call her by lunchtime, she will call me. And the situation might not be as good then as it is now.
I glance over at Grace. She’s happily banging the nose of a clown face that says, “A ha ha” over and over again. I taped over the speakers the first day it arrived to muffle the noise. Otherwise I’d have pitched it off the balcony within an hour.
Our conversations are never long. Mom has zero patience for long talks. Grace will be fine.
I should do it.
The phone is warm from the charger. I pick out my mother’s number from the line of previous calls, the same ten digits from my childhood. The call rings. I can picture the beige cordless on the kitchen wall. Maybe she’s upgraded since then. I haven’t actually ventured home in well over ten years. Thirteen, in fact.
“Hello?” My mother’s voice always startles me, gravelly and low. She’s getting older. I should do better about seeing her.
“It’s me, Mom,” I say. “Is this a good time?”
“Better now than never,” she says. “How is life in the big city?”
“Same as always.” I glance over at Grace. She’s sliding colored beads on a metal loop.
“You sound different. What’s up?”
I can picture her in jeans and a T-shirt with the arms cut out, probably sitting on the counter with a cigarette in her hand. That’s another strike. She can’t smoke around this baby.
“Just work things. You know, the old grind.”
“Your brother is here this week. It’s too bad you can’t come too. He’s all grown up. Twenty-three and ready to take on the world.”
Donovan. He was the winner in the name game. He could go by Don. Donny. Van. I’d had to change mine completely. I haven’t seen him since he was a kid, although I’d quietly arranged for a full scholarship for him to go to college.
“What’s he up to?” I ask.
“He finished his diploma, degree, whatever. You missed his graduation.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“He’s been looking for a job all summer. Finally landed something and thought he’d spend his last free week with his family. Some children do that, you know.”
I accept the admonishment. “What’s he going to do?” Donovan was always a jokester, never taking anything seriously. I’m honestly surprised he made it through college at all.
“Got some job in some office,” she says. “Pushing damn papers around. Like you, I guess. Fancy pants.”
My parents are blue collar to the core. They don’t trust office work. And they have no idea I’ve changed my name. No one does, other than Arianna and a law firm that handled the legal paperwork. There is no connection between my former life and my current one.
Visiting them is a bit of a liability. They will call me Hasmund McDonald. I can’t imagine having any associates in Birmingham, but if one spotted me, they would call me Dell. It’s part of the reason I haven’t gone back.
But now Arianna is pushing the issue. And my mother. Maybe I can control the situation. Avoid my hometown by luring them elsewhere.
“Have you given any more thought to a little trip, maybe with Donovan?” I ask her. “To celebrate his graduation?”
“Oh, we had a cake,” she says. “Marge made it.”
“But a trip would be great for him. See a little of the world before he goes. Maybe Italy or France.”
“Hardly. It’s damn far and your father simply can’t leave the track for that long.”
“He wasn’t invited.”
I can picture her rolling her eyes. “Hasmund, you’ve got to stop the pissy kid act. He was a great father. Look how you turned out.”
Despite him, I think. “I wish you’d change your mind about a trip.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to come down here. We could have dinner up at the VA Hall. They have a pancake supper every third Saturday. Two-dollar well drinks.”
Breakfast and booze. That’s my mother.
I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s time to mention Arianna at least. Be vague about the timeline of our relationship. I’ll have to fudge Grace’s background.
“Mom, I’ve met a nice woman.”
“Well, hell!” she cries. “I knew it! I told Beatrice next door that you had to have a girl in your life. It’s in your voice.”
My voice? I clear my throat. “We’ve been together quite a while. And, well, we’ve decided to get married.”
Another screech. Then, from the depths of the house, “What in the world, woman?”
My father.
Mom calls out to him, “It’s Hasmund. He’s getting married!”
I can’t hear his response. My throat tightens. I turn to Grace, who looks like she might be getting bored with her toy. She’s stopped playing and squirms in the seat, pushing with her arms as if to lift herself out. She might fuss any second.
“So if you’d like to come up, I’d be happy to introduce you to her,” I say.
“You have to bring her here!” she says. “You have to! Aunt Marge and Uncle Travis will want to meet her. And your great-aunt Ethel and the twins and everyone from the track. Johnny is still there, you know, and Becky and Jeremy.”
“We are not going to visit the track,” I say firmly. God, that would be a disaster. Thirteen years of eradicating my past, undone in one moment.
“But Hasmund, this is a big deal,” Mom says. “Nobody ever thought you were going to settle down. You know, Barb just had her fourth kid. And Beatrice is a grandmother three times over.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she is one too, but I stop myself. I have close to eighteen months to explain once I bring up Grace, and Arianna and I have not come up with a proper cover story.
Mom’s voice has taken on a younger, girlish quality. “I’m going to have Marge make one of her double chocolate fudge cakes for this. Extra big. Nothing is too good for my boy. Married! Do you have a date? Are you going to do it here at the VA? Becky did it there and they used a bunch of candles and it looked real classy.”
I bet it did.
“We haven’t gotten that far,” I tell her. “I’m sure Arianna will want to plan things.”
“Arianna,” Mom says. “Love it. Sounds like a real down-home girl. I can’t wait. Can’t you come before Donovan is gone? I’ll set up the air mattress. If we move the sofa against the back wall, there’s enough room for it. Of course you and Donovan can sleep on your bunks in your old room. I was thinking for your lady.”
I picture Arianna sleeping between the TV console and the ragged sofa on an air mattress and try to figure out how to explain to my mother that this isn’t who I am anymore.
“I don’t really want to be around Dad,” I say. “I’m not going to budge on that.”
“Well, damn,” she says. “I can’t exactly kick him out of his own house.”
“You sure I can’t convince you to meet me somewhere? It can be close. Maybe a nice cruise? We can take one right out of Mobile.”
I can hire a private boat, easy.
“Now, Hasmund McDonald, I’ve told you I’m not going to leave your father just because you’re being irrational.”
I sigh. “Okay, Mom.”
Grace has started screwing up her face. Before she can make a sound, I pick her up, flying her through the air, the phone pressed between my cheek and shoulder.
“I should go,” I say. Grace will giggle if I do anything too fun. Cry if I stop. A bead of sweat slides down my brow. My time is up. “I have to work.”
“All right,” she says. “Donovan is here until Sunday. I expect you to come down.”
“I’ll talk to Arianna about it,” I say.
“She better say yes if I’m going to like her,” she says.
“That’s ridiculous, Mom,” I say.
“So is not visiting for thirteen years!”
She’s got me there. “All right. Talk soon.”
I bring Grace down and kill the call just before the first fussy cry.
That was close.
But now I have a real dilemma. My mother expects me in a big way. Arianna wants to meet her and I don’t want everybody to start off on the wrong foot.
But I don’t see how I can go to Alabama with an eight-month-old baby and a four-month-old relationship.
Chapter 4
Arianna
I admit that even four months in, I still think about Dell — a lot — when I’m down in the Child Spa, especially if I’m feeling restless.
The place hums along, only a couple small details to attend to other than the usual routine. Everyone seems happy to see me, both the teachers and the children. It may help that I’m not here every day.
Going part-time was a good change.
I check the clock as I walk by. Just past eleven. Close enough to pass for lunchtime. I quickly text Dell.
Is the baby sleeping?
A little zing zips through me. Even though I’m marrying Dell and know him better than anybody, it’s still a thrill to proposition him in the middle of the day.
My phone buzzes.
She’s down.
I hustle along the hall to the back exit to the elevators and send another text.
Be naked.
His response is swift.
I plan to. Will you?
Another electric charge bolts through me. That man.
I step into the elevator and hold the card key up to the sensor that will let me up to the penthouse. This will alert Bernard, the butler, that I’m coming up. Given the hour, he will probably be preparing lunch.
Do I dare get naked before I go up there?
Dell has asked. The doors close and I’m alone in the elevator. I glance up at the camera in the corner. I can’t do it here.
But then I get another text. I glance down at the phone in my hand.
Get busy. I’m watching.
I text back. Can’t the guards see?
I cut the feed to our elevator months ago. I’m the only one who can activate the camera.
I remember him mentioning this now. Plus, he’s too protective of me to let some random guards watch me undress.
I’m waiting.
I look up at the camera. Dell leaves nothing to chance. I’m sure only he can see.
I kick off my shoes. Today’s dress is all one piece. It wraps around and ties at the waist. I pull on the string.
My phone buzzes.
That’s what I’m talking about.
A strong shot of desire bolts through me as the dress falls open. I shrug my shoulders and let it drop to the floor of the elevator. It’s moving now, slowly making its ascent.
My phone vibrates again.
Breasts. I must see them.
I shake my head with a smile and reach behind my back for the hooks of the bra. It isn’t easy with the phone in my hand, but I manage.
I look up at the camera, feeling shy for a moment.
A text.
Please. I can’t take it.
I drop my arms and let the bra slide to the floor.
Jesus.
We’re almost to the top. I slide the lace panties down. I’m nervous now. What if the housekeeper is in the penthouse and decides to leave? Is there a delivery person in the private hall?
I step out of the panties. The elevator glides to a stop.
But the doors don’t open.
I glance at the panel. A red button is lit up.
Emergency override.
What has he done? I’m about to text him when he sends a message.
Lift those beautiful breasts for me.
I’m caught between anxiety and desire, fear of being found and the intoxicating idea of being watched and instructed.
I set the phone on the floor in front of me and place my hands beneath my heavy breasts and lift them.
The phone lights up so I glance down at it.
Touch those nipples.
Good lord. A rush of heat rolls through me, but I do as he asks, rolling both nipples between my thumb and finger.
My breathing is harder now.
Legs a little farther apart.
I do that.
Lean back against the wall.
I take a step back. I’m lost now, forgetting anything that might disrupt the heat of this moment. Dell and I get a little wild sometimes, but we’ve never done anything like this.
Spread the folds.
I release one of my breasts and reach down.
The phone lights up again.
Beautiful. Now feel how slick you are.
I close my eyes and obey.
This is why things never get old with Dell, why he doesn’t stray. We get crazy, do incredible risky things.
Hold right there.
I do, taking in the elevator, the gentle whir of the air vent above me, a slight whiff of cleaner. I wonder if anyone is sitting outside the elevator bank on the lower floors, wondering why one of the cars is stuck at the top. This is the only one that goes all the way to the penthouse.
The doors slide open.
My eyes fly wide, but it’s him, of course it is, naked as he promised.
His chest is smooth and strong, muscles cutting across his pecs and shoulders.
When he speaks, his voice is low. “Spread wider.”
I do, and he kneels in front of me. His mouth falls against my tender folds, tongue inside me.
I gasp and hold on to the rails, steadying my back against the cool walls of the elevator. He takes my leg and slides my thigh over his shoulder, diving in more deeply.
It’s too much, the titillation of stripping for him in the public space, his commands, the way he made me touch myself.
And now, his mouth and hands and head. His hair tickles my belly. My hips roll with his movements. We move together like one person.
The intensity begins to build. I need him to work harder, faster. I grind against him, anxious, desperate.
He takes me to the edge, that precipice of no return, then he quickly pulls away, turning me around to face away.
I grab on to the rails as he slides powerfully into my body. His arms come around me, one holding on to my ribs. The other slips down, his fingers working me again.
I’m so far gone already that my body splinters right away, shuddering with sensation, the orgasm flooding out from where we join.
