Valentine's with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 7)

by Whitley Cox

  They used way better tequila in their bonbons than the turpentine that Pablo had shown up with.

  She chased her shot with a chocolate, then did it three more times, loving the way her decadent creations banished the taste of sewage from her tongue and how her toes tingled and her limbs loosened with each drink.

  Once she’d had her four shots and four bonbons, she tucked the tequila away and headed off toward the bathroom to get ready.

  Hopefully, the booze in her system lasted until the cab got to the restaurant and she could get some wine into her system. No way in hell was she going through tonight sober.

  Roughly twenty minutes later, Lowenna stepped out of the bathroom, makeup on, hair fluffed and dress mostly on. She’d stupidly gone with a dress that had a zipper at the back, but she had no date to help her do it up.

  Maybe the cab driver would take pity on her and help her out?

  She slid into her black and white zebra striped faux fur pumps, checked her makeup in the mirror, grabbed her purse and coat and then began to close down the shop.

  Might as well get this nightmare over with.

  She flicked off the lights, set the alarm and headed to the door only to scream bloody murder when she lifted her head and came face-to-face with a man.

  That had not at all been the reaction Mason was anticipating when Lowenna saw him standing on the other side of her shop door. The woman was terrified.

  He knocked on the door. “Lowenna, it’s me, Mason.”

  She’d already grabbed a rolling pin from somewhere and had lifted it above her head. What the hell was she planning to do with that? But then recognition dawned on her, and she set the rolling pin down on a counter and made her way closer to the door.

  She unlocked it and stepped out, stumbling just a touch but regaining her footing a second later. She quickly locked the door behind her.

  “Alarm’s on,” she murmured. It was dark out and raining, but the small amount of light from inside the shop let him see enough of her. Her cheeks held color, her eyes a sparkly glow. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

  So you like the look of women who are scared out of their skin? Maybe you should discuss that with your therapist …

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his. They were standing beneath the eaves, dry enough but not for long. The wind had picked up and was now pushing the rain sideways.

  “I came to take you to the rehearsal dinner,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his heavy black wool coat.

  She blinked a few times, confusion darting behind her eyes. “But you said … ”

  “I know. But this is important to you. I moved some stuff at work around. My mom took Willow. If we’re supposed to be madly in love with each other, people are going to wonder tomorrow why I wasn’t at dinner tonight.” He reached for her coat to help her put it on, holding it out for her. She spun around, showing him her back, and that’s when he noticed that her dress was undone.

  Who was she going to ask to help her with her dress? A stranger?

  Frustration at someone else getting to see so much of her bubbled like lava in his veins.

  The zipper ran all the way from between her shoulder blades to just above her … oh, fuck, was that a G-string?

  Yes, yes it was.

  He didn’t say a word but simply pulled up the zipper, making sure he went slow as fuck and allowing his knuckles to graze her silky-soft skin.

  He felt the gooseflesh ripple along her back, and the woman actually shivered when he reached the top, a deep breath fleeing her lungs, causing her slender shoulders to slouch and a sigh to escape from the depths of her chest. He encouraged her to put her arms through the sleeves of her coat. It was, after all, still winter.

  She spun around to face him, her cheeks an even darker shade than before. “Thank you for coming,” she said, blinking back tears. She swallowed hard and sniffed, running the back of her wrist beneath her nose. “I’m so glad that I don’t have to go through tonight alone. I was dreading it.”

  She shouldn’t have to be doing any of it alone. She shouldn’t be alone.

  She should be with me.

  But he obviously didn’t say that. Instead, he apologized. “I’m sorry I was such an ass earlier, dismissing coming tonight the way I did.”

  She shook her head and hiccupped a small sob. “You could not be further from an ass in every way possible. You are amazing. You are a … a godsend and exactly who I want to be with ... ” She took a couple of deep breaths and released them through her mouth, past the bright red lipstick he now envisioned seeing rimming the base of his cock. “Tonight.”

  He’d held his breath, only to release it forlornly when she ended that statement with tonight.

  Stowing his disappointment, he chuckled. “Well, I’m not sure I was sent by God … but I am glad I was able to make it. Help you out.”

  With teary eyes, she grinned up at him. “Well, you’re certainly a tremendous friend and a knight in shining armor, my knight in shining armor. Or in your case”—she stepped forward and opened up the sides of his coat, which he hadn’t bothered to button—“a knight in a very handsome suit. You look hot.” Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “Like seriously hot. Doneen is going to hate me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she’s going to hate me even more than she already does. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I walk in with you.”

  All he wanted to do at that moment was move into her, encourage her to slide her hands across his abdomen and wrap them around his back beneath his coat as he pinned her up against the door to her shop and took her mouth. Showed her just how crazy she made him, just how in love with her he already was, just how amazing a real boyfriend he could be.

  But instead she said the one thing broke the spell. Severed the moment of enchantment completely.

  “Of course, I’ll pay you more for tonight. I really appreciate you helping me keep up appearances.”

  Keep up appearances.

  Fuck him.

  It was like he was on the losing end in one of Luna’s rage rooms. A sledgehammer landed hard on his chest, causing his heart to shatter like a tacky crystal goblet. He shuttered his eyes for a moment, took a couple of his own deep breaths, then opened his eyes once more, flashing her the biggest, fakest, happiest smile he could muster. “Of course. We have to keep up appearances. Wouldn’t want anybody to think that I’m not ass-over-teakettle in love with you.”

  “Isn’t the saying head over heels?”

  Yeah, he was that too.

  But all he did was grunt, smile another fake smile and loop his arm over her shoulders, reaching for his umbrella that was leaning against the display window of the shop. He opened it up over them and escorted her down the sidewalk toward his warm, waiting truck.

  Mason helped Lowenna down from her seat in his truck. The woman was dressed to fucking perfection in a dark purple—though chicks would probably call it plum—dress with a deep V-neck and long sleeves. It hugged her like a second skin and came just above her knees. And those shoes—maybe he did have a foot fetish—because they were sexy as fuck. He hadn’t noticed them outside her chocolate shop, but he sure as fuck noticed them when she swung her legs out over the side of his truck and reached for his hand so he could help her down. They were wild—literally. Black and white zebra striped faux fur with a crazy-high heel. Fuck. Then all he could picture was her wearing those—and nothing else. Legs in the air, soles to the ceiling, nails raking down his back as she cried out his name and came undone, her pussy rippling around his cock as he hammered her hard into his mattress. Maybe he could hammer her hard enough, one of those shoes would fly off and conk him in the head.

  Life goals!

  When said shoes hit the ground, he didn’t let go of her hand. “You ready?” he asked, slamming the truck door, then hitting lock on the fob.

  She glanced up at him beneath her lashes. “No.”

  He released her hand an
d tugged her into his embrace. She fit just perfectly beneath his arm. “Well, neither am I. But let’s get it over with anyway.”

  After speaking with Adam and Violet at length after their final dance lesson yesterday, he decided that he needed to step up his game with Lowenna. Be honest about his feelings and see how she responded. He was tired of pretending, tired of giving her the boyfriend experience when he could simply be her boyfriend.

  As her boyfriend, as someone who loved her for her, he could help her learn how to get rid of the demons. The self-doubt, the hate and the anger. And he planned to show her that tonight, to show her what a life and a love with him could bring her—could bring both of them.

  After he handed his keys to the valet, a BMW, a Mercedes and a McLaren waiting in the queue behind him, he and Lowenna made their way toward the front doors. Yeah, this hotel definitely catered to the upper echelon of society. He blew out a breath. Show time! Then he did what he’d been longing to do since that first night. He stopped them where they stood just outside the hotel lobby, leaned down and kissed her.

  It was light. It was quick and more chaste than he would have liked. But they were not in a place to be sucking face and grinding like horny teenagers against a concrete column out front.

  Chaste kiss or not, she was shocked to say the least because she definitely wasn’t kissing him back.

  She also tasted like tequila.

  He pulled away and bit back his grin when color rushed into her cheeks. “Just keeping up appearances,” he murmured against her mouth, loving the surprise in the silver flecks of her eyes. “You never know who could be watching.” Then he pecked her one more time, only making her eyes grow wider, and ushered them toward the doors to the hotel.

  Mason rolled his eyes. Of course Doneen and Brody would pick a place like this to hold their rehearsal dinner. It was posh, it was pretentious, and it was overpriced.

  “They footing the bill for tonight?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

  She tossed her head back and laughed as they stepped inside. “Such a silly man.”

  “Is it Brody’s parents? Because that’s tradition.”

  She shrugged. “Well, the bride and groom sure as hell aren’t footing the bill, I’ll tell you that.”

  Hmmm …

  Le Petit Amour was on the top floor of a very swanky hotel just north of Seattle between Lynwood and Mukilteo. It overlooked the Puget Sound on one side and had an award-winning golf course and country club on the other.

  “This isn’t where the wedding is tomorrow, is it?” he asked as they made their way toward the elevator.

  She nodded, stepping inside, but not so much that she dislodged from beneath his arm. “Yep. They reserved the grand ballroom. But they refused to use the onsite catering service because Doneen didn’t like the head chef of the catering division. Said she was making flirty eyes at Brody.”

  He hit the elevator button for the restaurant, and the doors closed. “Of course she did.”

  “I think it was all in her head. Now that she knows he’s capable of cheating, she’s going to always be suspicious of him.”

  Mason snorted to himself and tugged Lowenna closer. “Sounds like those two deserve each other.”

  “Mhmm hmm, oh boy, do they ever.”

  It was a slow ride up, as their car was forced to stop for every monkey in a suit or gown that was also headed to dinner on the top floor. By the time they reached the top, there were well over a dozen people in the elevator, and Lowenna was now plastered against his side.

  Just the way he liked her.

  How could he get more people into the car on the way down? Maybe he’d have to carry her if it got too full.

  As they stood there watching the floors climb, he glanced down at her and made sure to keep his voice just above a hush. “Not that I mind, but have you been drinking?”

  She nodded and grinned. “Yep. Had four shots of tequila before I left. No way in hell am I going into this night sober. Should have grabbed the bottle and took a few shots before we handed the keys over to the valet. I think it’s starting to wear off.”

  Mason shook his head and chuckled, continuing to whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t let the big, bad sister from hell hurt you tonight. You have your protector here.” He furrowed his brows in a serious way and nodded, which only made her giggle and tuck in closer to him.

  Eventually they made it to the top, and the bronze mirrored doors slid open to reveal swank and pretension dripping from every inch of the crown molding, the velvet valances and the crystal chandeliers. The only reason he knew what any of that shit was in the first place was because the first interior decorator he’d hired for the bar after he bought it had tried to get him to implement such ridiculous things. Needless to say, she hadn’t lasted long.

  The people in front of them filed out first, leaving him and Lowenna at the back, her tight beneath his arm, right where she belonged.

  “Well,” he started, giving her a gentle squeeze, “shall we … ”

  “Get this over with?” she grumbled, stepping forward. “I guess we shall.”

  They checked with the maître d' before they were led through the restaurant toward the back and beyond some dark red velvet curtains, where the sounds of laughter and voices called them like a banshee on a cliff—to their doom.

  The maître d' held the curtain open, allowing Mason and Lowenna to step forward into the large private party room. Instantly, voices hushed and all heads turned toward them. He still had his arm casually looped over her shoulder, so he felt her entire body tense up beneath his. She also squeezed in tighter to him, if that were at all possible, and rested her free hand on his chest.

  “Lowenna,” a woman in her mid-fifties said, standing up from her spot at the table to approach them. “Doneen told us all you had to cancel.”

  What the fuck?

  Lowenna embraced the woman and pecked her on the cheek. “Well, I managed to get all my work done on time, so I decided to come. Helps that I had a ride.” She glanced up at Mason, fear and anger duking it out for top spot in her stormy gray eyes. “Mom, this is Mason.”

  “Oh!”

  “Mason, this is my mother, Adeline Chambers, and my father, Conrad, is at the end there with the blue and silver tie.” Her father gave a wave and a smile.

  Mason took Adeline’s hand, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. Women deserved a handshake with confidence behind it just as much as a man did. It frustrated his mother to no end when she’d meet a man and he would give her a limp-fish handshake as if he figured his true handshake would crush her delicate feminine fingers. She’d raised Mason to give women proper handshakes because it meant you saw them as equals.

  Which they were.

  If anything, women were the stronger, fiercer sex. He’d learned that very early on in life. Women were meant to be revered and respected. And he revered and respected the shit out of the woman in his arms right now.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Chambers.”

  She was a lovely woman, with the same coloring as Lowenna, same expressive eyes too. But her hair held strands of silver throughout and was longer and styled into a fashionable updo at the back of her head.

  Adeline’s smile was enormous as she took Mason’s hand. “So lovely to meet you, Mason. We had no idea Lowenna was seeing anybody. Is this new?”

  He glanced down at Lowenna and squeezed her against him again before bending down and pecking her on the top of the head—a move he planned to do a lot tonight. “A few months, I’d say. But I fell hard and fast. When you know, you know.”

  Adeline’s eyes glittered. “Well, welcome. We’re so happy you were able to join us. We can certainly make room at the table for two more.” She began shuffling chairs and asking people to scoot over. But the maître d' was on top of things and had two penguin-suited waiters bringing in a couple more chairs and a two-top square table. In no time, Mason and Lowenna were seated at one end of the table, close to Lowenna’s paren
ts.

  And he didn’t even have to be introduced to them to know that they were also across from the bride and groom. The steam rising up from bridezilla’s ears could have powered a locomotive, and the dark red stain on the cheating groom’s cheeks rivaled a candy apple.

  “I wish you’d told me you were bringing a guest,” Doneen said through gritted teeth once they were all situated. “Is he coming to the wedding too?”

  Lowenna nodded. “My apologies. And yes, he is. I did tick plus one on my invitation.”

  “Then you must have received the wrong invitation card.”

  Lowenna shrugged and patted Mason’s thigh beneath the table, which immediately made his cock jerk. This was the first bit of affection she’d initiated. It must be show time. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. Mason is my boyfriend, it’s serious, and I would like to have him with me at your wedding.”

  Doneen’s pale gray eyes shifted to Mason. “Well, this just means that someone I invited who I wanted to have a plus didn’t get to have one.”

  Lowenna shrugged again. “Sorry, sis. Not my problem. I didn’t send out your invitations.”

  Mason loved that Lowenna wasn’t cowering or letting her sister bully her. He’d never taken Lowenna for a doormat, but he certainly thought she put up with too much from her bitch of a sister. It was nice to see that she was able to stand up for herself.

  “Wine?” A waiter behind them held two bottles, one of red, one of white.

  Lowenna nodded. “Red, please.”

  “Certainly.”

  Mason spied the liquor menu in front of him and snatched it quickly, flicking to the back. He pointed to the scotch—the expensive shit. “I’ll have this, please.”

  The waiter’s eyes were the only thing that betrayed him, and even then, just barely. They flared slightly before he masked his reaction and nodded. “Certainly, sir.” Then he was gone.

  Mason stowed the liquor menu back on the table and let his gaze slowly drift up to Brody’s face. Still red as a fucking tomato.

  This was going to be fun.