Sweet and Sassy Daddies

by Natalie Ann

  For a long moment, they stared outside at the sweeping vista of field and forest with the navy-blue ocean rising up to meet baby-blue sky. Gulls whirled overhead and high above them, a lone eagle soared amongst the clouds.

  “Did you know Mona and I… dated in high school?” he said, his voice soft and filled with memories.

  Bailey’s mouth dropped. Holy cow! That explained the familiarity between them. Maybe she was wrong, and they weren’t attracted to each other. Or maybe they were, and the past was holding them back from giving their love a second chance. Oh, man, she needed to talk to Amber, ASAP!

  “Uhm, no?” she whispered, realizing she hadn’t answered. “How long did you… date?” Talk about your over-used euphemisms.

  He glanced at her, amusement sparking in his eyes. “A while. My point is we have a long history, long enough that if she was to make a life-changing decision that could directly impact our lives, it would be incumbent on her to tell me—don’t you think?”

  She tried to follow his logic, but without more information it quickly became a mind-maze and she was lost. “What do you mean? What life-changing decision, and what do we have to do with it?”

  He sighed again and turned back to the window, his shoulders hunched. “Mona has decided, in all her infinite wisdom, to run against me in the mayoral campaign.”

  “But…” How could she? Bailey swung around to gaze upon the traitor in their midst. Never mind the restaurant, what about Amber and her? This would put them on opposite sides in what could turn out to be a nasty battle. “She can’t.”

  “Unfortunately, she can,” her dad muttered. “I just don’t understand why.”

  Neither did Bailey, but she was going to find out.

  “Mona,” she called, ignoring her dad’s hissed command to stop. “Are you truly going up against my dad for mayor? How could you?”

  The room was so silent they could hear the ticking of Josie’s prized cuckoo clock in the kitchen. All eyes were trained on her and her father like they were the main act at an illusionist’s show, but Bailey didn’t care. These people were like family to her—if they’d betrayed him… well, they’d betrayed her, too. And that hurt.

  Bailey’s dad wrapped an arm over her shoulders and gave her a hug, in effect providing a united front. “Jane, I’m sorry to ruin your party, but I think Bailey and I should go.”

  Jacob stood in the kitchen doorway with Jason, their expressions grim.

  Mona and Amber stared at them as though they couldn’t understand how anyone could be less than pleased by the big news.

  Mona was the first to speak. “Don’t go, this is my fault. I should have known it wouldn’t stay a secret for long, nothing does in this town.” Her smile was bitter. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

  Her dad growled something under his breath while Jacob raised a hand for calm. “Let’s all take a deep breath and sit down to talk, okay?” He waited until he received a reluctant nod from everyone. “But not until we celebrate my girl’s birthday with some cake. Are you ready to sing?”

  As everyone broke into a discordant rendition of the song, Bailey wondered if they’d ever find harmony again.

  Chapter Ten

  A couple of hours later, after orange creamsicle unicorn cake, vanilla ice cream, and gift opening, the excitement had died down. Josie said goodbye to their guests, then took Jane off to bed, dog and cat following behind the wheelchair. Jason was the next to leave, promising to open the café in the morning.

  Good thing, because after this day was over, Mona planned to bury her head under her pillow and not come out until the election was over. She’d done some idiotic things in her life, but this took the cake.

  Jacob leaned back in his chair and patted his flat stomach. “That cake was delicious, sis. You outdid yourself.”

  Amber forked the last bite on the plate into her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss. “I wonder if Jane would mind if I take the leftovers.” She grinned.

  “Bailey’s birthday is in a couple of weeks. You can have more cake then,” Mona admonished.

  Bailey glanced sideways at her dad, then lifted her chin. “Will you make my cake, Mona?”

  “She’s probably too—”

  “Of course, honey,” Mona interrupted him with a sharp look. “Any thoughts on what you want?”

  Bailey nodded. “I was kind of thinking… the BTS logo?”

  Mona’s brows rose. She looked to Amber for clarity. “BTS?”

  Amber gave a long-suffering sigh. “The pop band, Mom. They’re only like world famous.”

  “Whatever happened to groups with real names, like The Rolling Stones or Rush?”

  “I think they went out with Y2K,” her brother murmured, eyes flashing his amusement.

  “Ha, you’re older than me. Are you saying you’ve heard of this band?” Mona pointed her fork at Jacob, aware of Trace’s smile as he listened to their nonsensical banter.

  “The question is, hasn’t everyone?” Trace interjected. “They were even on Ellen.”

  Oh, well then. “Okay, oh wise one, what does their logo look like?” Mona crossed her arms and prepared to be entertained.

  “Already ahead of you,” he said, waving his phone in the air. “A set of doors meant to represent moving from the past to a better future,” he read from the screen. His gaze softened on his daughter’s bowed head. “I think it’s perfect.”

  Bailey looked up at his words, her young face filled with hope. “Does that mean you’re going to let me take driving lessons?”

  Trace grimaced. “Let’s worry about that after the party, okay?”

  As with most teenagers, she heard the part she wanted to hear. “Oh, thank you, Daddy.” She jumped up to give him a hug. Caught off guard, Trace’s expression went from surprise to tenderness as he enfolded his daughter in his arms, deflating much of Mona’s animosity. They may be worlds apart on the political front, but there was no denying Trace was a good father.

  Her gaze went to her own girl and her heart clenched. Amber was watching the father-daughter duo with such longing it hurt. What she’d done wasn’t fair to Amber or to Trace, but it was too late to change it now.

  If only…

  “Well, Jane and her menagerie are settled but she was hoping you and Bailey could read her a story before bedtime,” Josie said to Amber as she reentered the dining room. “Sorry, Dad, you’ve been ousted by girl power.” She looped her arms around Jacob’s neck and gave him a commiserating kiss on the cheek.

  Amber grinned and rose. “Don’t worry, Uncle, your stories are still the best. Come on, Bailey. Let’s see if we can come up with something scary for the munchkin. Joking,” she added with a laugh at Jacob’s mock-threatening expression.

  The room was quiet after they left, the vitality gone. Mona shifted in her seat, aware that she owed not just her family, but Trace an explanation. “Any more coffee left?” she asked Josie, searching for excuses to put off the inevitable.

  “I made a fresh pot after dinner,” Josie said, heading for the kitchen. “I figured we might need it after that meal.” On her way out, she glanced over her shoulder with a raised brow as though to say, there’s your opening, now what are you going to do with it?

  Mona chuckled at the not-so-subtle hint. Obviously, the time had arrived to make her announcement. She kept her gaze focused on the family portrait hanging on the wall across from her. Jacob stood tall and proud in front of his bride, while Josie’s face was effervescent, filled with love for her new husband. Jane, lovely in a butter-soft satin dress, sat in her rose and ribbon decorated wheelchair with a smile brighter than the sparkling blue waves behind them. That was the reason she’d taken on this challenge, so their community could continue to have warm and safe moments like her brother’s beach wedding.

  She’d fight tooth and nail for her family’s security, and if that meant taking on Trace Michaels, so be it.

  “I guess the news is out, so it’s no surprise I’ve decided to
run for mayor.” She turned to Trace, feeling the magnetic pull of his eyes. “I want you to know I’ve always stood behind your mandates—at least until last year when you allowed land that should have been turned into a park become a high-end spa for your wife’s rich guests. Guests that bring garbage and less than savory people to the island. And don’t get me started on the carbon emissions from all the private float planes taking off and landing on our small dock—a dock nowhere big enough to handle that kind of commerce. It’s disrupting local businesses and making it a full-time job for our authorities to keep up with the rise in crime. I want her gone.” She took a deep breath, her pulse pounding at the red fingers of anger suffusing Trace’s cheeks.

  “Wow, sis. Say it like it is, why don’t you.” Jacob whistled.

  She flushed but didn’t back down. “You know I’m right, Jake. Just last month your work truck was burglarized, and you lost half of your tools. Liz told me she had a break-in at the flower shop. Whoever it was left the cooler open, destroying hundreds of dollars in fresh flowers, and emptied the till. We never had issues like this before the spa opened.”

  Josie returned in time to overhear and turned to her husband in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were robbed? How horrible.”

  Jacob stood to take her in his arms and mouthed, thanks a lot, to Mona. “I had insurance coverage, babe, I didn’t want to worry you.”

  She slapped his arm—hard. “We’re a team, Jacob Samuels. Don’t hide things from me, I don’t like it.”

  He grimaced. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s go into the kitchen so I can properly apologize.” He took her hand and kissed the palm, leading her away without a backwards look.

  Mona fanned her face, suddenly warm. “Well,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to get him into trouble.”

  Trace got up to pour the coffee Josie had left on the side table. “He’s a big boy, I wouldn’t worry about it.” He pulled out the chair next to hers and took a seat. “You should have come to me with your concerns, Mona. And by the way, Sally is my ex-wife. We divorced over three years ago, she has nothing to do with my present life, okay?”

  His eyes, those gorgeous blue orbs she’d dreamed of, stared at her with such a deep intensity butterflies took flight in her tummy. She hadn’t been this close to Trace in years. Her vision blurred, caught in a time warp between past and present. He smelled the same, an intoxicating mix of pine and sun and ocean breezes. She remembered the night she’d given him her virginity, the night she fell in love.

  “Do you ever go back to Sunset Beach,” she asked, half afraid of what his answer might be. If he’d ever taken…

  “No,” he answered, his voice rumbling over her emotions the way his feet had done to her heart. “Do you?”

  Her laugh lacked humor. “Back to my biggest mistake? Not likely.” She was being deliberately cruel but couldn’t help it. He’d ruined her for anyone else that summer—it wasn’t fair.

  He tipped her chin up, his thumb close to her bottom lip, causing those butterflies to beat themselves against the walls of her chest. “I still remember everything about that night. You wore a pretty white dress and your hair was done up in a ponytail. I wanted to wrap my hand in it and kiss you senseless.”

  “I think you did.” She smiled, caught up in the memories he wove like a master tailor. “I knew what you were up to with that blanket and picnic hamper, but I didn’t care. The great Trace Michaels wanted me—I could barely believe it was happening.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lip, igniting the embers of a long-ago fire. “We were good together, Mona. I’m sorrier than you can ever know that I screwed it up.”

  She yanked free, angry and embarrassed at her weakness. “Screwed Sally, you mean? You were a free agent, it didn’t matter.” Or so she’d spent the next ten years trying to convince herself. “It’s all water under the bridge now anyway. I’d sooner stick to the subject at hand. What are you going to do about the spa?”

  His dark brows drew together, and he opened his mouth as though he had something to say, before letting it snap shut. Instead, he leaned back, crossed his leg over his knee, and took a sip of his coffee before eyeing her over the rim of the cup. “I think I’ll leave the politics for the debate table. After all, you’ve known for some time who your opponent would be, I need time to study mine.” He tipped his cup at her and winked.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mona pounded the stake into the ground, wishing it was Trace’s head on a pike. Every time she thought about the evening of Jane’s birthday, her blood pressure rose. What did he think he was doing, bringing up ancient history, getting her all hot and bothered, then trying to apologize? They were way past the place where an apology was going to solve their issues. Too little, too late.

  Bam, bam. There was something satisfying about using a hammer to smash a piece of wood, the repercussions vibrating up her arm like a string of curse words. No wonder her brother had become a carpenter. It was a great stress-reducer. Maybe Sally could introduce it at the spa.

  Bam.

  Bam.

  Okay, if she were being honest, jealousy played a tiny—miniscule really—part in her determination to rid the island of that… that building down there. She glared at the offending piece of architecture. She couldn’t even call it ugly. Jacob had designed the structure, it was a work of art, really. Too bad it belonged to the biggest pain in her…

  “Excuse me, you can’t put that there,” a nasally voice squawked from behind her.

  Tightening her grip on the hammer, Mona turned to face the object of her revulsion. “It’s public property, Sally. I have as much right to advertise as you do.” She used the hammer to point at the giant billboard with the blond bimbo’s face plastered on one side while the other extoled the virtues of a cleaner, healthier lifestyle.

  Sally glared at her from the driver’s seat of her fancy sports car. Blood-red fingernails tap-tapped the expensive paint where they rested on the windowsill. The convertible top was down, showing off snow-white leather upholstery and a carbon fiber dash. The queen bee wore a floppy white beach hat and Hollywood-style sunglasses that hid her eyes, but Mona didn’t need to see them to read her expression. The pinched lips—red to match her nails—and clenched jaw gave the story away. Ms. Michaels wasn’t happy.

  Good.

  “Mona? I didn’t recognize you in those… clothes.” Sally let her gaze drop from Mona’s baggy sweatshirt down to her Lululemon leggings with their cute flower print, and paint-splattered runners.

  Mona refrained, barely, from tugging the waistband of her sweater over her curvy hips. “These old things? I couldn’t see the sense in getting dressed up to do manual labor. Besides, I knew I’d be hot and sweaty by the time I was done. Not all of us can ride around in style.” She smiled woman-to-woman.

  “Yes, well, I would expect a businesswoman on the road to a political career to take more care with her image, but maybe that’s just me. At any rate,” she waved her queenly fingers at Mona’s campaign poster, “good luck.” She didn’t say, you’re going to need it, but she may as well have.

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Mona said, her sarcasm hitting the mark as Sally’s fingers turned white where she gripped the steering wheel. “But luck won’t win me the chair—hard work will.” Not that the other woman knew what that was. Between her daddy and Trace, Mona doubted whether she’d ever had to lift a finger in her life.

  “If you say so,” Sally replied. “No more poster boards or I’ll go to the city council- they’re an eyesore.” With that she roared off, floppy hat waving in the breeze.

  Left on her own again, Mona’s shoulders curled in defeat. She hated confrontations, and this one left a bad taste in her mouth. Or maybe that was Sally. The woman definitely rubbed her the wrong way. Even in school, she’d been the typical prom queen, while Mona and her few friends hung out in the background wishing they were her. That changed for Mona the night she’d caught Sally and Trace together, but the not-good-enou
gh feeling dogged her steps to this day.

  Sighing, she turned to take down the offending poster only to freeze at the sight of Trace leaning on the post under Sally’s billboard like James Dean in a business suit.

  “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

  He straightened and walked toward her, lean and dangerous. “Long enough to overhear you and Sally butting heads.”

  Great. Now she was going to get a lecture from him on his ex-wife. Where was that pike?

  ***

  Trace wasn’t sure if he should hug Mona or shake her. Why she would decide to virtually flip her middle finger at Sally by placing those ads in front of her place of business was anyone’s guess. The damn woman liked to court trouble.

  “I heard a rumor my competition was working her cute little butt off pounding signs and had to come out to see it for myself. Imagine my surprise when I find said butt in about the only place on the island bound to raise a stink. Why would that be, I wonder?”

  “You do realize I’m armed, right?” Mona lifted her hammer and pointed the handle at him. “Sexist comments are so unattractive.”

  He stumbled to a halt, his Italian loafers not meant for roaming hills. “Whoa, that wasn’t my intention. I have the utmost respect for women—ask anyone.” He grinned, inviting her to relax.

  She frowned but let the hammer fall to the sandy soil with a dull thunk. “I have no doubt.” She eyed his suit and tie, then glanced down at her own casual clothes. “I assume you have a reason for stalking me?”

  He’d forgotten how prickly she was in the morning. “I had a break between meetings and decided it was too nice to stay indoors, thought maybe you might like to join me for coffee.”

  The frown deepened. “What are you really up to, Michaels? We aren’t exactly bosom buddies.”

  His gaze dropped to her sweatshirt with the slogan, Bite Me, written across her chest and his blood heated. If she were willing, he was ready. Unfortunately, her moody brown eyes didn’t say, sweep me off my feet. More like, come closer and I’ll clobber you. The grin flirting with his lips became a full-blown smile. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”