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

by Whitley Cox

  In all seriousness though, I hope you’re feeling better. I’d hoped we could travel to the wedding together, but I understand if you have work to do first.

  Should he send her a winky face or hugs and kisses? She’d sent him a slew of x’s and o’s, but it was always okay coming from a woman. Women got away with being openly affectionate and cute. Would it be weird coming from him?

  Fuck it.

  He added xo to the end of his text, then hit send.

  He hadn’t even had time to push the bread in the toaster down before she texted back.

  Dear God you’re fucking sexy! More of those pictures, please!! Also, thank you! And I’m sure Willow is right. You can sing to me during the wedding ceremony, how about that?

  He laughed out loud. Wouldn’t that just be perfect? Just as the bride and groom began to recite their vows, Mason could stand up and start singing “Happy Birthday” to Lowenna.

  He kept reading.

  It is Valentine’s Day after all so we all got to the shop crazy-early to open up. Needed to make sure the shop was ready for the last-minute shoppers. There was a line around the block when we opened.

  Wow! Why wouldn’t there be a line though? Lowenna’s talent with chocolate was unsurpassed. She could do anything and do it exceptionally well. And all of Seattle was figuring that out pretty darn quickly.

  And oh shit, right! Not only was it her birthday, but it was also Valentine’s Day. He needed to get her some flowers and … ?

  Well, he couldn’t very well buy her chocolates. Lingerie? Wine?

  He’d think of something before he saw her, something awesome.

  Another text message from her popped up.

  Shop’s been slammed since we opened. CHA-CHING! And I need to get the centerpiece, guest favors and chocolate strawberries to the hotel. Not that I don’t trust my staff, but I’ll never hear the end of it if one of those bows on one of the boxes suddenly slips from off center to center. The world will surely implode, didn’t you know that? Xoxo

  There she went with more x’s and o’s. Did she mean them?

  He’d come clean with her last night about his feelings, and thank fucking God, she’d admitted she liked him too.

  He loved her, but he would take her liking him for now.

  He texted her back.

  Can’t wait to see you, birthday girl. Happy Valentine’s Day!

  Then he added a winky face, a bunch of celebration and birthday emojis and another x and o. He rolled his eyes and stowed his phone in his flannel pajama pants. The woman was rendering him into a lovesick fifteen-year-old. Even worse, a lovesick fifteen-year-old girl. Because he’d certainly never acted like this when he was fifteen, but he remembered his sister Nova overthinking everything when it came to boys.

  But he wasn’t a boy.

  He was a man, and he’d shown Lowenna such last night when he spread her thighs wide and buried his face in her sweetness. She’d wanted to take it further—and holy fuck, so did he—but he’d never fucked a woman the first time while she was drunk. Never. That was just not how he rolled.

  He also didn’t have any condoms on him.

  She can’t get pregnant, numbnuts.

  Right.

  But still. He’d been checked since his last partner, which had been quite some time ago. He scrubbed his hand over his face and sipped his coffee. Had it been since June since he’d gotten laid?

  A wine rep from Oregon had come by the bar peddling her vino and flaunting her cleavage, and she’d all but lifted her skirt and bent over in the wine cooler. How could he say no?

  Well, he had. In the wine cooler. He would never, ever fuck at work. But he did take her up on her offer to stop by her hotel room later that night and let her show him all that Portland had to offer.

  He shook his head, releasing the memory of … fuck, he couldn’t even remember that wine rep’s name. Gina? Gia? Mona? He knew it ended in an A. Either way, Gina, Gia or Mona wanted nothing more from him than orgasms, and he was content with the same from her. He’d had too many other things on his plate to think about. Like getting the bar up and running and his baby on the way.

  But now … now he had his baby. She was happy, healthy and freaking perfect, and his bar was raking in the money hand over fist. Now he wanted more than just a woman in a hotel room and a handful of orgasms. Now he wanted a future. He wanted a woman whose name he’d never forget because it was so unique and so her. He wanted a woman who made him laugh and smile and look forward to waking up each morning cupping her boob, kissing her neck and smelling her morning breath.

  Because that’s what a real life with a real love was all about. Gross morning breath and all. He just had to find the time tonight to convey all of that to Lowenna because he couldn’t bank on her remembering it all from last night.

  The toast popped up in the toaster, and he pulled it out, tossing it onto a plate.

  He snapped his fingers.

  “Faye! That was her name.” He blew out a breath. He’d never forgotten the name of a woman he’d slept with in all his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Where the hell did I get Gina or Mona from?”

  He was about to slather on the peanut butter when Willow down the hall let him know she was awake and she was hungry.

  “Coming, baby,” he said, taking a final sip of his coffee and heading off toward the nursery. Oh, how nice it would be to share the parenting and domestic duties with someone. While he saw to the baby, she could be preparing breakfast or vice versa. Then when Willow got a bit older, he and Willow could prepare breakfast in bed for her.

  He opened the door to Willow’s room and turned on the light. She was on her belly because she’d now figured out how to roll and was giving him her best stink eye.

  He bent down to pick her up, and that’s when it hit him.

  He reared back and coughed.

  Damn, his baby was a shit machine.

  “Yeah, it would be nice to have someone to share this responsibility with too. I need latex gloves and a surgical mask.” Then he gingerly picked up his child and carried her like she was made of sewage-covered crystal over to the change table.

  The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch.

  It was also long and boring as hell.

  The bride and groom had written their own vows—because of course they had—and by the sounds of things, they’d each written a goddamn novel.

  Lowenna found herself not only nodding off, her cheek repeatedly hitting Mason’s shoulder, but as she zoned in and out, listening to the vows, she came to the hilarious realization that Brody most definitely hadn’t written his own.

  He was not a wordy or overly articulate person.

  Yes, he could speak English and do it well enough. But he spoke basic language with little to no descriptive verbiage, and the vows he was spewing at Lowenna’s sister were so fluffed up and bedazzled, the man himself was struggling to read it all, let alone pronounce all the words.

  Who in their right mind writes this garbage? For so much of my life I was in eternal darkness, destined to traverse the land blindly, only hoping for a single spark to guide my way, and then I found you. Not just a spark or a solitary flicker, but a woman as bright as the sun itself. Your smile alone illuminates the world like the glow of a billion stars. I revolve around you, my sun. You are my world, my universe, my everything.

  Gag!

  Barf!

  Was he fucking serious?

  She hadn’t felt hungover at all until that word vomit, but when Brody stumbled over the big words like illuminate and traverse, and then he called Doneen his sun, Lowenna had to cover her mouth for fear of losing her cookies in her seat.

  Like seriously? Brody didn’t have a sentimental or romantic bone in his goddamn body and he wrote that? Puh-lease.

  Doneen wrote it and then told him to read it, one hundred percent.

  By the time the wedding ceremony was over, all the guests were passing yawns back and forth as they filed out and cheered f
or the happy couple, who made their way back up the aisle. Doneen’s smile was huge, her makeup and hair flawless, of course. Brody looked happy but also a touch scared.

  Lowenna knew him well. She knew when the man finally realized he was in over his head with something, and he had that look the moment the reverend pronounced them husband and wife. Doneen threw herself at him, led the kiss, then led him down the aisle like a trained puppy.

  He’d never had a spine when he was married to Lowenna either.

  Only unlike Doneen, Lowenna had never bullied Brody, but maybe that’s what he needed?

  A hand on her thigh had her turning her attention from the commotion in the aisle to the incredible man beside her. “You okay?” he asked, linking his fingers through hers.

  She nodded and smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “I am, actually. Bored out of my tree and glad that shit is over, but I’m okay.”

  His blue eyes went wide. “I know, right, like what the fuck?”

  A hand landed on Mason’s shoulder between them, and they turned to see who was behind them. Lowenna recognized Aurora, who waved, and she was sitting with three incredibly handsome men.

  “What the fuck was up with those vows?” the man with the dark brown eyes and mischievous smile asked, shaking his head. “Like seriously, I think I might need to go puke somewhere.”

  Mason turned in his seat to better see the people behind them but didn’t release Lowenna’s hand. “I know, right? You are my sun.” He stuck his finger down his throat. “Gonna wolf my breakfast at that disgusting display.”

  The other three men chuckled.

  “So is this the infamous wicked sister?” the man with the dark eyes asked. He extended his hand toward Lowenna. “Liam Dixon. Nice to finally meet you.”

  She took his hand. “I am that sister. Wicked as they come. Don’t stand too close, otherwise when the house finally falls on me, you might get trapped too.”

  The redheaded man who was sitting next and awfully close to Aurora peered over the row. “I don’t see any ruby slippers. You can’t be that wicked.”

  Lowenna chuckled and snapped her fingers. “Oh, I knew I was missing something. Damn flying monkeys—must have left them on my other broom.”

  He laughed and patted Mason on the back. “I like her. Funny and cute.”

  There was a third man sitting next to Liam who had remained quiet. His dark gray eyes held a sadness that hit Lowenna hard in the chest. When he caught her looking at him, he smiled grimly and offered her his hand. “Atlas Stark. Liam and I work with Brody, and we hate him.”

  Direct and to the point. She liked this guy.

  She took his hand and shook it. It was warm and firm. “Nice to meet you. I hate Brody too, so we have at least one thing in common besides the gray eyes.”

  His small smile faltered, and something flashed behind those gray eyes, but then his grip on her hand tightened, his smile widened just a touch and the gray in his eyes lightened. “Observant. I like that.” He released her hand and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone. “This is the nanny. I’ve got to take this.” Then he stood up and pushed past everyone else still in the row until he found an alternate exit and disappeared outside.

  Liam linked his fingers together and stretched his hands out far in front of him. “Well, shall we go find this open bar? Put these narcissistic motherfuckers in the poorhouse one scotch at a time?”

  Zak nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  She was about to ask the guys to go easy on the bar as her parents were actually the ones footing the bill until she noticed that Zak was in a kilt instead of trousers.

  Then she forgot her words.

  Damn. Kilts were so freaking hot.

  Aurora touched Lowenna’s arm. “You coming, Lowenna?”

  She hummed, her head bobbing slowly. “Yeah, but uh, first I have to go do a few things.”

  Zak, Aurora and Liam all flicked their gazes to Mason as if something wasn’t going quite according to plan. She recognized that look well. She hadn’t been aware of it at the time, but that was the same look Doneen and Brody gave each other all the time when they were sneaking around behind Lowenna’s back. Like they had a secret, a plan, and Lowenna’s sheer existence, her continued survival, threw a giant wrench into that plan.

  Unease wormed its way into her belly, and she glanced up at Mason, slowly tugging her hand from his. “What’s going on?”

  He shook his head, his eyes big, bright and innocent. “Nothing. What do you have to do?”

  Her eyes squinted. “A few things.”

  He flashed her a grin she knew was meant to disarm her, but it didn’t work. He reached for her hand again. “Well, whatever you have planned, it can wait. Let’s go upstairs for a sec, okay?”

  She reared back. “Upstairs? As in a hotel room?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but I guarantee you, it’s not what you think.” He stood up and pulled her with him, tugging on her arm until she was forced to stand as well. “Come on.”

  “I … I have to go to my work van and grab something first though.” He couldn’t derail her plans now. He just couldn’t. She only had a small window while the happy couple were off getting their photo taken by Mitch and Tori and the rest of the guests were making their way to the reception hall for drinks and appetizers. She had to make the most of this window. She had to start her revenge.

  “Can it wait?” Mason asked, helping her meander through the last remaining guests who were filing out and heading to the other side of the hotel for the reception.

  She shook her head. “I’ll be five minutes. My van is just out front in preferred parking. I swear.” She didn’t dare bring what she had into the reception with her or even into the kitchen. In the wrong hands, it could be bad news. So she made sure to get good parking out front and kept the bag in the van. She shook herself free of his grasp, readjusted her shawl and then took off toward the exit.

  She couldn’t let whatever plan Mason and his friends had derail her plan. And boy, did she have a plan. A multilevel, hit them where it hurts, hit them where it counts plan.

  By the end of the night, Brody and Doneen wouldn’t know what hit them—in more ways than one.

  17

  They rode the elevator in silence.

  Lowenna was champing at the bit to get her plan under way, only Mason appeared to have other ideas and was hauling her up ten floors to a hotel room. For what?

  So they could finally finish what they started last night, only this time he could do so with a clear conscience because she wasn’t drunk—yet?

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed nervous. Staring straight ahead, fists bunched at his sides, shoulders nearly touching his ears.

  If anybody needed a drink to loosen the hell up, it was him.

  When the elevator doors finally slid open, he let her go ahead of him. She had no idea where they were headed, so she waited for him to step off the car, and then she followed him.

  They didn’t have to go far. He stopped in front of room 1009, which was just three doors from the elevator. Then he pulled a key card from his pocket.

  Her brain raced back to last night and their fun, reckless decision to go and utilize the hotel room the fates had gifted them. Too bad her need to numb the effects of the night had reared its ugly, wine- and tequila-flavored head and she found herself on the tile floor of the bathroom praying to the porcelain gods for salvation.

  “It won’t be like last night,” he said, reading her mind.

  So this was about sex then.

  She would have taken him for more of a romantic than just whisking her upstairs in the middle of the wedding and getting it over with. Because that’s certainly how it felt.

  He slid the key card into the door, and it flashed green and then clicked, but before she could step away in protest, he opened the door and practically shoved her inside.

  All of Lowenna’s hackles instantly jolted up, and she braced herself for God only know
s what, but instead she was nearly knocked clear on her ass by the lights flashing on and over a dozen people cheering Happy birthday! at her.

  Blinking again and again and again because if she rubbed her eyes she’d look like a raccoon in no time, her gaze slid around the hotel suite, taking in everyone, all the women from Violet’s baby shower as well as more faces she didn’t recognize. All of them smiling at her with bright eyes and party hats.

  There were balloons, a banner, champagne in a bucket and what appeared to be a beautiful cake sitting on the table.

  Emotion choked her throat as she turned around to face Mason. His smile was small and almost sheepish, and when he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, it only added to his whole cavalier appeal. “Just because Dumb and Dumbass are getting married and it’s Valentine’s Day doesn’t mean it’s also not your birthday. It should be celebrated, with a party.” He reached for a stunning bouquet of flowers off the table and handed it to her, along with a gift-wrapped box and a beautiful bottle of wine. “It’s also Valentine’s Day, so you get double the celebration—at least from me.” He kissed her on the cheek, followed by a deeper, more intimate one on the lips.

  “Get a room,” Zak called before Mason lifted his head, grinning.

  Heat flew into her cheeks.

  Luna from The Rage Room wandered over from the crowd and gently placed a party hat on Lowenna’s head. “Welcome, birthday girl!” She hugged Lowenna, then whispered, “Next session at The Rage Room is on the house.”

  One by one, all the guests came up and hugged her, including people she didn’t recognize, like Liam’s brother Scott; Tori’s boyfriend, Mark; Zara’s boyfriend, Emmett; and Isobel’s boyfriend, Aaron. She recognized Mitch as he’d been busy flitting around all morning and afternoon taking pictures with Tori.

  “We can’t stay long,” Mitch said, pulling away after hugging her. “Mr. and Mrs. Asshole are just touching up makeup and hair before we’re allowed to go and make them look good.” He rolled his eyes and glanced at Tori. “Not even Photoshop can take care of their kind of ugly. That shit is inside.”