Sugar Daddy: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Lara Swann

  We slide into the easy friendship we were heading towards, and Maya even comes around a couple more times, too. To finish her painting, at first, then to start another one, then to paint each other…yeah, turns out that’s what happens when you entertain eight-year-olds sometimes.

  It only takes a couple of weeks to feel like we’ve gotten into a comfortable, light-hearted rhythm - totally safe - so when a sudden thought occurs to me as I’m leaving for work, I act on it almost automatically.

  “Hey, Liam.” I call out, grinning as he turns from where he’s loading his truck with what must be bakery supplies. “I’m going to a family barbecue at my parents’ place this weekend - do you guys want to come along? It would solve that problem you’ve been having.”

  “Oh? And what problem is that?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

  He’s obviously adapting well enough to Ashton, because he doesn’t seem particularly taken aback by the last minute invitation anymore.

  “The one where you turn down all these invitations to meet people because you don’t know the person inviting you well enough. This time, you know me, so there are no excuses.” I grin, enjoying how easy it is to make him laugh.

  “A family barbecue?” He repeats, smirking slightly as his gaze runs lightly up and down me. I would swear there was some smolder there too, but…that’s Liam. A conversation wouldn’t be the same without a bit of latent sexual tension. “You don’t think it’s a little early in our neighborly relationship for me to be meeting the parents?”

  The way he says that…the heated amusement there and the insinuation underneath…the way he always seems able to turn my mind in that direction.

  He’s not nearly as innocent as he likes to pretend he’s being - but I think I’m starting to get used to it. To the heat that runs down my body when I talk to him sometimes, and the blatant invitation to enjoy his sinful humor.

  And I do enjoy it.

  Now that it feels safe and off-limits again…he’s very enjoyable indeed.

  “Not at all. If I don’t turn up with my new next door neighbor soon, they might start thinking I’ve got something to hide.” I say, teasing him back.

  I almost think he might continue it - my overly active imagination wonders what would happen if he said that maybe he shouldn’t come along then—

  “I’m not exactly family.” He points out instead, still smirking at me, but returning to the original point doubtfully. “I’m not sure intruding on your family gathering is the best way to start meeting people.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “We have a pretty wide definition of family around here. I’m pretty sure Mom’s neighbors will be invited - and then anyone wandering by at the time. These things always seem to snowball…and Maya does keep asking when she’s going to see Katy and Lily again, you know.”

  His mouth twists up into a wry smile, eyes crinkling as he looks at me. “Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll think about it. Good enough?”

  “I’ll take that.” I grin, turning to go before glancing back with a smirk of my own. “But if it looks like you’re wavering…well, I’m sure if I drop a word or two to Maya, then she’ll do a better job of convincing you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” He gives me a horrified look as I walk away, and I’m still laughing by the time I get to the end of our street.

  Yeah. Having Liam next door is a lot of fun.

  * * *

  “Yes…on track….end of next month…as planned.”

  “Good. And you…yes, good…next week…and what about…”

  I’m only vaguely aware of the low voices deep in conversation as I flick through articles and information in the town archives.

  After interviewing Liam and completing that article, I’m finally working on the travel pieces Anderson bribed me with - and yes, I’ll admit, I’ve made a big deal out of it. I want something more than just writing about the experiences and encounters I had while I was out there, so yes, I might have gone a little overboard on the research. I’m just trying to find as much as I can to make these articles intriguing and relevant, even to some of the not-so-adventurous residents of Ashton.

  So the rumor that the town’s founder - John Ash - might have had some connection to France is just perfect.

  I just need to find some evidence, some proof and information about it…so now I’m diving into the kind of rabbit hole that is probably my favorite part of this job. The town archives seemed like the best place to start, but although Ash is well celebrated here and we’ve tried to keep as much many records about the founding of the town as we could, information from two hundred years ago is understandably hard to come by—

  “But this is the last time, I’m telling you.”

  Something about the tone in that voice pulls me out of my focused skimming and I pause, my head tilting toward the sound of the conversation I haven’t been paying any attention to.

  “I can’t do this again.”

  I recognize it with a sudden jolt - the Mayor - but his voice doesn’t sound anything like the warm, grandfatherly tone I think I’ve always heard from him. Right now, it’s harried, tense…maybe even a little afraid.

  What…

  “Come now, Kenneth, don’t be like that.”

  The other voice’s response sounds almost disturbingly pleasant, but the not-quite-hidden menace in it sends a shiver down my spine.

  I find myself walking slowly towards the voices, even before I realize what I’m doing, my heart rate pounding in my ears as something within me freezes up. I have no idea what I’m hearing - or whether there’s anything going on here at all - but my body is reacting to it despite the confusion swirling through my mind.

  “I mean it.” The Mayor’s low voice comes back, insistent, and clearer now as I approach the slightly ajar door of the room they’re talking in. It’s a small reading room here in the archives, and now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone actually use it before. “I can’t keep doing this - people are going to work it out - get suspicious—”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, they haven’t yet…” The other voice drawls, and I have to fight another shiver.

  What is it about that voice?

  I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard it before, so why—

  “The debt is paid, Seb. It’s been paid several times over. Tell Nicolas he’ll get his money after it comes in next month, but then I’m done.”

  “Have you forgotten so quickly how you got your illustrious position—”

  “I don’t want it.” Ken hisses back. “I never did, and I don’t want any part in this anymore. As soon as this damn sewage project is done, I’ll step down—”

  “Oh you will, will you?” The menace in the other voice is back in full force. “And what if your successor happens to look into that project in a little more detail? Or any of your pet projects over the years?”

  “Then they work it out.” I’ve never heard the Mayor sound so weary and defeated. “And I take the hit. I just don’t care anymore. It’s been too long - too long, and too much—”

  “It’s not just you, Ken.” The voice is quieter now, and I have to strain to hear, creeping forward just a little more. I’m certain now that I’m not supposed to be hearing this - I still don’t know what it is, I can’t stop and think right now, but it’s obvious I shouldn’t be here. My body is wound so tight I can’t breathe properly and the air around me feels electrified. “If someone works it out, that’s bad for all of us, and Nicolas won’t like that…he won’t like that at all.”

  Goose pimples break out all along my arms at those words. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I don’t leave. I can’t make myself, despite all the respect I have for Kenneth Ford and the voice inside my head telling me this is none of my business.

  It’s none of my business, but it’s sure as hell something.

  “No, Ken, I think you’re going to be Mayor for a good long time…long enough to sweep all this under the rug, at the very least. I’
ll talk to Nicolas about the rest of it, but you can be sure about that much.”

  “Seb, I mean it, I can’t—”

  “Ahh, come off it, Ken. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your doubts - maybe you just need a bit of a break, a vacation, something like that—”

  “That’s not going to change—”

  “You’ve gotten over these doubts before.” The tone in his voice changes again, shifting between friendly and jovial to deeply unsettling far more easily than should be possible. “Trust me on this, Ken, you don’t want to go down that path again. What happened last time was…just unfortunate.”

  There’s a long pause, and it’s only when I see spots start dancing across my vision that I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I’m not sure whether they’ve continued talking in a quieter voice…or they’re done and about to open the door right in my face. I teeter there, caught between the desire to step closer - or trying to hightail it out of here before they come out.

  When it finally comes, Ken’s voice is hoarse and sounds…almost like the words catch in his throat. “What…are you trying to say?”

  “Oh, come now, let’s not talk about such things. After all, there’s probably no need, right? I’ll talk to Nicolas and maybe this really will be the last time, hey?” Scary man’s voice has gone back to friendly again, and I can almost imagine him doing something like wrapping his arm around Ken’s shoulders as he speaks. “How is Margaret doing these days, anyway? From what I’ve heard, she’s recovered very well, all things considered.”

  Ken makes a strangled sound, and I think my heart drops into my stomach as I hear it.

  He’s not saying…

  “And your daughter?” This creepy guy continues, as if Ken hadn’t reacted. “She’s a gorgeous young woman, you know - and just had a baby too, hasn’t she? You must be so proud—you know, for all these complaints, you really do have a lot to enjoy in your life. Maybe you should focus a bit more on those things…that’s what’s really important, you know. The health and happiness of those you love.”

  I feel suddenly nauseous and a little bit faint, gagging slightly on the bile that rises into my throat.

  “What was that?” The man’s voice comes almost immediately, loud enough to startle me, and I realize I’ve half-stepped forward and almost into the door.

  “What was what?” Ken asks, his own voice dull and barely interested, the slight lift at the end of it making me feel like he’s on the verge of tears.

  The Mayor…crying? Shit.

  “I heard something. Out there.”

  Oh shit. Shit shit shit.

  I take a step back, then another one, trying to be quiet but the sudden panic making it almost impossible. I look hurriedly around as I hear movement inside the room. If I dash for the exit they’re bound to hear me - and probably see me too - but—

  “There’s no one…no one uses the archives.”

  “Unless someone was tipped off.” The other voice comes back, harsh and angry now - the first time I’ve heard that from him.

  “I didn’t—shit, Seb, you know that—”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  The door swings open just as I dart behind one of the long rows of bookshelves. I freeze, caught between wanting to move even further away and being terrified any movement might attract attention.

  “See?” Ken sounds like he’s just barely holding himself together. “There’s no one—”

  “What’s all this?”

  Stuck where I am, I can just about make out the outline of a large figure in front of me, through the rows of books. I have to bite down on my lip hard not to let out a semi-petrified squeak, but I manage to hold everything inside, totally freezing up. I can’t make out more than what looks like a rugged leather jacket.

  “I…I don’t know. Probably one of the staff left it out while updating records. They were doing that the other day.”

  I can’t see what they’re looking at - but I’m pretty sure I know. The spread of information I’ve got out about John Ash.

  Double shit. Triple fucking shit. I don’t usually curse, but today…right now…well, if this isn’t a situation that calls for it, I don’t know what is.

  I have no idea whether what Ken says is true or not, but there’s a long pause as the man with him thinks it over. The air is so thick I almost expect thunder to break out right within this room, before he finally - finally - grunts.

  “You sure?”

  “There’s a reason we always use that room, Seb. The only people that ever come in here are our two librarians - and they’re both on lunch. We checked.”

  Another grunt. “Alright, but all this talk of being done is making me twitchy, Ken. I’ve been looking out for you for a long time now, but you don’t always make it easy. Have some care, eh? None of us want another…accident…to happen. Not after poor Margaret—”

  “You’ve made your point.” Ken’s voice snaps back, with a flicker of his usual steel. “This meeting’s over. You can tell Nicolas he’ll get his money - and tell him what I said, too.”

  There’s a long pause as the two men seem to weigh each other up, then the guy I don’t know finally nods. “I’ll talk to him. See you next month, Ken.”

  Ken grunts, and the other man turns to leave. I watch as Ken comes into my view, seeming to straighten his shoulders until they’re ramrod-stiff before following the other man out of the room. At the threshold, though, I see him pause and glance back, looking again at the articles and books I’ve got spread over one of the tables.

  Oh god…

  From the angle of the book cases, if he looks this way, I’m pretty sure he’d see something of me, and—

  He turns and walks out before I can finish that thought, and I think every part of my body goes to jelly as I slump to the floor.

  I’d do something sensible, like find a better hiding place to wait, or try to leave the room somehow, but I just…can’t.

  I can’t move. I can’t think. Paralysis, fear, adrenaline, confusion…everything wants to overwhelm me.

  What the hell did I just see?

  It’s all I can do not to mumble and moan to myself a little bit as I sit there on the floor, propped against the book case and almost shaking with relief.

  Poor Ken…

  Poor Margaret.

  The awful man’s voice comes back to me, those words echoing…

  Poor Margaret.

  Chills run all the way through my body as I think back to her accident a few years ago. It devastated the whole town. Kenneth has always had a lot of respect and appreciation as our long-standing Mayor, but his wife…she was adored. The benevolent adoptive grandmother of the whole town, she was the center of the community - working tirelessly to host events to get people together, visiting and talking to anyone that needed a little support, making sure everyone’s views were heard and considered…

  Until three years ago.

  All I heard was that it was a farm accident of some kind - the specifics were never widely talked about and it was one thing that no one felt right speculating over or discussing too deeply - but the accident that paralyzed her from the waist down also seemed to take everything that made up the woman we loved. We all hoped…but she wasn’t the same afterward, rarely leaving the house and gradually turning down more and more of those who tried to visit and wanted to help.

  I’ve only seen her on a handful of occasions since, and the warm, vibrant personality that used to be there…I haven’t seen it since.

  It was a tragedy.

  One that people slowly stopped talking about, too painful to continue discussing or to acknowledge how helpless we all were.

  A tragedy, but…an accident. There was never any doubt about that—no one ever even mentioned…

  Until right now, no other thought has ever crossed my mind. But…

  Nausea bubbles up within me again as the implication hovers at the edge of my mind - too crazy, too impossible to actually sink in. Like everythi
ng I just heard. I can’t understand it—can’t process it—half-wonder if I just imagined the whole thing. My mind is buzzing so loudly that none of it makes sense, that everything feels distant and far away and unbelievable.

  Now that the two of them have left, even the fear and adrenaline feel distant, like a dream I had that I can only half remember. The whole thing feels that way. I can’t get my head around any other possibility.

  This is Ashton.

  Nothing happens here.

  We’ve been living our same, ordinary lives for generations.

  This isn’t the sort of place that some crazy, mind-blowing scandal can actually exist.

  My mind keeps telling me that I must have been confused, I obviously missed half the conversation and not understood the rest - that if I walk up to the Mayor’s office right now and ask him about it, there will be some simple explanation for all of this that I’ve totally overlooked. And we’ll laugh and poke fun at my over-active imagination and…and life will continue on as it’s always been.

  Totally normal.

  But just the thought of seeing the Mayor again is enough to send another tremor of uncertainty through me - and out of all of it, it’s that part that makes it real to me. His voice - the emotions there - that’s what sticks with me. I didn’t make that up, however confused I might be about the conversation.

  By the time I finally convince myself to get up and make my way out of there, my breathing has mostly returned to normal and most of the adrenaline has drained away, leaving me slightly exhausted but still way too on edge. My gut and mind are still roiling with confusion and unease, but I don’t try to sort any of that out now. Not yet. I’m not sure I can face it, not right now.

  I don’t see anyone as I leave and I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I’m finally outside again. It’s picture-perfect blue skies, the warm July sun shining down with a slight breeze in the air - and it all feels totally unreal.

  I wander through town in a daze, not even attempting to go back to the office, trying not to think too much.