by Izzy Slam
Summer Daddy
Copyright ©2019 Izzy Slam
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction intended for mature readers. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All characters depicted in this story are fictional, not blood related, and are consenting adults over the age of 18 years.
~Cover design by Valdas Miskinis~
Description
Paige
Project Cleanup. That’s what they called it. It had a nice ring to it, but there was nothing “nice” about what these non-earthly beings would spend the summer doing on Planet Earth. In fact, it was downright sinister: take the homeless into custody and whisk them away, back to their home planet for whatever sick fate they had in store.
A lot of people didn’t care. They were happy to get rid of what they considered to be a strain on society.
But there were plenty who did care, human rights activists being among them, as well as the homeless.
And guess which one I was?
I would have never guessed that losing my parents as a teenager would end up costing me my life. But … here I am, wandering the streets and hiding in the shadows, desperate for a place to call home as the foreign creatures begin to arrive.
And when I find someone willing to play the “protective” role in my life, I never expected all these strong feelings to surface. After all, this fake relationship is only supposed to last for the summer.
And then we’ll never have to see each other again.
Moses
I’ve thrown myself into my work over the last few years. And with the arrival of these non-earthly creatures, I became immersed in humanitarian efforts to save the homeless and find them places where they can seek asylum.
But when Paige strolls into my office in need of sanctuary, I’ve run out of safe havens. No one is available to take her in.
I’m her only saving grace.
Problem is, she’s so f*cking sexy, so sweet and innocent looking, I don’t know how I’m going to keep myself in check around her. She’s like a drug I’m instantly addicted to.
I’m terrified the aliens will find out she’s been homeless for nearly a year. So my protective instincts kick in and, with a few good connections, I find a way to make it look like Paige is the girl I raised.
But then an alien follows her home one day, and all of our plans, all of our pretending, changes on a dime.
I’ll do whatever it takes to save Paige from certain death. And I’ll make sure she knows I want her by my side, for life.
Chapter One
~Paige~
The sign points off the roof of the building, flashing in brilliant pink letters you can’t miss: The Pink Panther. Next to it is a panther dressed in an all-pink suit and winking to the traffic that passes by.
I breathe in the coastal air as I stand here, nervous about going in. Honestly, this place has the look and feel of a strip club, but rumor has it, it’s actually a safe haven for those wanting immunity from Project Cleanup. In other words, the homeless are welcome here.
Word gets around on the street, but “word” isn’t always accurate. However, given that the aliens have already begun to arrive, I can’t take any chances. They’ll be here from June to August, collecting the homeless and removing them from the streets, from Planet Earth.
I think most of them have accepted their fate. But I’m nineteen years old as of today. Unjaded and still filled with hope. I believe in the compassion of my fellow human beings.
I flick my wrist up and glance at my watch. 2:49 PM. I’ve heard the best time to speak to Moses—the guy who’s supposedly in charge—is around 3:00, and not wanting to miss him, I decide to head inside.
A guy with a long, white beard sits at a front desk, and beyond him is what looks to be the empty dining hall of a now closed restaurant. Several tables are overturned, and the floor tiles are peeling from the walls in the corners. I seem to be the only one here. I’m surprised. What a way to spend my birthday.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
I offer him a smile. “Are you Moses?”
A quick shake of the head. “I’ll call him up here for you. What’s your name?”
“It’s Paige. And thank you.”
“No problemo.”
I turn around and see a row of chairs, so I set my bag down on the floor and sit as the bearded guy places a call.
“Mo, some chick named Paige is here to see you.”
Some chick. That’s me. Just a homeless somebody that’s hopefully deserving of a home, or whatever it is they offer. I don’t really know what to expect.
I use my finger to press a wrinkle out of my skirt. I actually bought this at a consignment shop not long before my parents died last year. I typically cycle between several pairs of shorts and t-shirts since Mimi Beach hovers around 80 degrees year-round. But I’d kept this skirt and a pair of jeans. I consider myself lucky that one of my friends from high school has a distant relative that runs the local YMCA. Otherwise, I’d have nowhere to shower on a regular basis.
“Paige?”
I look up to find a man standing next to the front desk, hands deep in his pockets and …whoa, very sharply dressed in light brown slacks, shiny dress shoes, a pale blue shirt and a navy tie, with whales of all things.
“Um, yes. That’s me.”
He lifts a brow. “I’m Moses. Did we have an appointment?”
I’m stunned at his attractiveness. His deep coffee brown eyes are hypnotizing, and his five o’clock shadow appears more like a five o’clock shadow from several days ago. With his strong jawline and strong arms, he’s making my knees feel wobbly and I’m not even standing yet. Nervous butterflies swarm through me, and I feel my luck is about to run out. If I had any to start with.
“No, we didn’t. I just …” I clear my throat and swallow hard. “I heard you might be able to help me?”
His face softens. “Oh, all right. Why don’t you come on back.”
He turns on his heels, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to checking out his ass. His pants are pulled tight against his glutes with his hands still in his pockets, and he is rocking them. Hard.
Damn.
Is this guy my saving grace? Because right now, I can hardly breathe.
He leads me inside a small office and nods me toward a plush chair, sitting at a desk directly across from me. He lifts a tablet and taps at it several times, then looks my way, smiles, and sets the tablet back down on the desk.
“Sorry about that. Too many things going on and not enough time to do them. I’m sure you know how that is.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I sort of barged in on you here.”
He steeples his fingers and sweeps his gaze over me briefly. “It’s okay. People come in at all hours. What can I do for you?”
His eyes seem to be searching mine, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a test.
Jesus.
What if he’s an alien, and the moment I mention I’m homeless, I’m sucked into an egg and rocketed off into outer space? This isn’t at all unsettling.
“If you’re an alien, you’re required by law to tell me, right?” I ask jokingly, letting out a nervous laugh.
He sort of twists his brow. “Come again?”
“Sorry. It was a bad joke.”
“I’m not an alien, Paige. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Good.” I purse my lips and blow out a hard breath. “The truth is … I don’t know what you can do for me. I don’t exactly have a place to stay these days, and, well …” I toss a hand up in the air, leaving the unfinished sentence to speak for itself.
“You heard that we home people who are in need.”
God, he makes it sound like the homeless are feral pets. I’m sure that’s how society views us, though. Why would he be any different?
“If by “home people,” I say, making air quotes, “you mean find homes for people, then yeah. I might have heard something like that.”
He drops his hands and leans back in his chair, guilt washing over his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I’ve been working on this project for months, and it’s … affected me. Deeply. I guess I’ve had to find a more clinical way of phrasing things. For my own sanity.”
Well, now I feel like an asshole. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I really shouldn’t be combative at all. I need him. Living on the streets does this to you, though. You look at everyone as untrustworthy, willing to take advantage of you.
“That came out harsh. I didn’t mean to suggest you were being insensitive. I’m sorry.”
His eyes dance around my face once more, sending tingles up and down my body. “You have no reason whatsoever to apologize, Paige. But back to the issue at hand. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all available resources. I … simply don’t have anywhere to send you.”
I feel the blood as it drains from my face, down my body and to my limbs, all the faith I had when I walked in this place washing completely away.
“Are you sure?”
He opens his mouth to say something when his phone rings. Without answering, he swipes his finger across the screen, declining the call. And when his eyes meet mine this time, they seem filled with regret.
“Sadly, yes. I’m sure. When we got word about this in the spring, I had families lined up, waiting to take people in. But as of this morning, all my homes are full. I don’t have any volunteers left. I’ve had to start contacting some of the big corporations and see if they’d be willing to invest in properties with me, where we could at least place groups of people together. As you know, all the shelters are full and … fuck.” Angrily running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he releases a frustrated laugh-growl. “We’re just running out of resources, out of space.”
I lower my head, fighting the tears as I twist my fingers together.
“You don’t have any family, do you?” he asks.
Now it’s my turn to let out a cynical laugh. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. Everything I own is in that bag.” I point to the floor and shake my head, a single tear escaping and landing on my thumb.
“Shit,” he whispers. “How old are you, Paige?”
“Nineteen,” I barely choke out.
I hear his chair sliding across the floor, and when I look up, he’s making his way to a filing cabinet across the room.
“I think I have one last resort. I’m going to give you an address. I want you to go there and wait for me. Can you do that?”
My lips part and I pull in a rush of air, feeling like I can finally breathe again. “Yes. Of course.”
From the top drawer of the file cabinet, he removes a single key attached to a foam key float as well as an envelope, which he passes my way. “Take a cab to the Intracoastal Waterway dock and ask for Henry. Let him know you need a ride to Ocean Paradise.”
“Ocean Paradise?” I don’t know if this is a business or what.
“Yes. It’s across the inlet on a small island. There’s money in there for the cab and a bite to eat if you’re hungry. But there’s also plenty of food at the house if you can wait.”
I feel a smile starting to rip my face apart. Ocean Paradise is the name of a house. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” I want to hug him right now, but I can’t tell if he’d be receptive to that.
“You’re welcome. Here’s a key to the house. Do you have a phone?”
I shake my head and pick up my bag off the floor.
“No problem,” he answers, lifting the tablet off his desk. “Just type in your full name and your date of birth.”
It seems like an odd piece of information to give him, but I don’t dare question it. In fact, all of this seems odd. He’d pulled out that key and envelope like he was just waiting for someone to give it to. Well, I’m just so freaking happy to have a place to go.
“I’ll call the cab for you if you want to wait outside. They usually get here pretty quickly.”
I nod and make my way to the door. And when I turn around to thank him one more time, his eyes are moving over me in a way that makes me burn hot from the inside out. Not that I mind. Not at all.
When I make it outside, it feels as though the sun is shining on me for the first time in nearly a year.
~Moses~
As soon as Paige leaves my office and I take a moment to collect myself, I call her a cab, then sit in contemplative silence for a while. All I can think about is her sweet, innocent body, soft but inquisitive eyes, long honey blond hair, and shimmering tanned legs. Fuck. She’s making my blood run hot again. And it hasn’t run hot in so long. I haven’t even thought about sex since Mandy ran out on me several years ago. Plus, dealing with this nightmare, worrying about all the homeless people being taken by the otherworldly creatures for god knows what kind of fate, grasping at straws to find them a home, and desperately pleading for help from complete strangers have all forced my needs to the back burner.
Several months ago, I set up this closed down restaurant as a temporary refuge for the homeless. Nothing sexy about this place at all. But the moment Paige leaves, I feel my cock grow stiff, and I remember once again what it’s like to have desires, to feel the touch of a woman, to smell her sweet scent and want to taste her lips.
God. I need her in ways I shouldn’t. But I can’t deny what I feel.
I make an attempt to call Henry so he’s not caught off guard when Paige shows up. But he hardly ever keeps his phone turned on, so I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. I’ve sent people to him before, the less fortunate who’ve needed to stay with me while I find them a more long-term solution.
But it looks as though I will be Paige’s long-term solution because I literally have no one else to call.
I tried to avoid this because from the second I laid eyes on her, I wanted to rip that skirt right off her body. I honestly don’t know how long I can go without laying hands on her. And I don’t think she wants to shack up with a man who gets an erection every time she walks in the room. But I don’t know if I can help it.
I glance at the notes document where she typed her name and birthday, feeling like a perverted old man. Jesus Christ. She just turned nineteen today. I’m twice her age. Damn near old enough to be her father. Technically, I am. So pretending to be her father won’t be that difficult. And the kinds of things I want to do to her body are probably illegal in all 50 states as well as Mexico and Canada and would likely land me in jail if I even breathed a word of them to anyone.
I can’t help but wonder what happened to her parents, if they kicked her out or died. All I know is that I want to pull her into my arms and keep every hair on her precious head safe from harm. As long as I am alive and breathing and she will allow it, Paige Wilkins will never want for a thing.
I put my immediate needs aside for the time being, flipping through my contacts as I struggle to remember the name of my connection at the records office. I’m going to need him to print out a fake birth certificate for Paige. It may not be necessary to go to those extremes, but with the way she’s affecting me, I don’t want to take any chances of the invading aliens denying she is mine.
The invaders (“guests” as they’re politely referred to by the media and the government) are hell bent on getting rid of those who
are less fortunate. Some people are convinced that they simply want to perform experiments on us humans and that the homeless are the best targets because no one will fight for their rights. Taking them won’t be a struggle. But others like myself believe that the government is using the aliens to “clean house” so to speak.
It’s all rather disgusting and I’ve never cared for politics. I only care for people. So when I see someone hurting, be it a person or a group, I do what I can to help. And at this moment, I only want to help Paige. And dammit, I want to help myself to her body.
My father was a corporate attorney before he died of a stroke two years ago. And he made a killing with some wise investments, leaving me and my sister a fortune that I can’t even come close to spending. I purchased Ocean Paradise not long after, a modest two-bedroom home that sits along the inlet, my back porch overlooking the water.
When we got word about the “guests” I immediately got to work in an effort to save the homeless from certain death. But now, my focus is lasered in on one and only one.
I find the contact I’m looking for and pick up my phone. I think Ted will help me. We haven’t spoken in nearly a year, but he and my father go way back. He’s incredibly loyal.
“Moses? Is that you?”
“You recognize my voice? I’m impressed.”
He lets out a hearty laugh. “You sound just like your father. Anyway, how are you these days?”
“Staying busy with all the new changes and working with some humanitarian groups.”
“Wonderful. I’m sure your father would be so proud of you. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Actually, there is.”
I brief him on my recent project and, without going into a lot of detail, ask him to forge a birth certificate.
“You want me to list you as the father?”
My cock twitches when he says it. Only because I’m thinking very … unfatherly thoughts about her.
“Not electronically. I don’t want you to risk your job. But if you could print one out that looks real, it could literally save her life.”