Hot Daddy Package: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Tracy Lorraine

  Hot Daddy Package

  Angel Devlin

  Tracy Lorraine

  Contents

  A Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Angel & Tracy

  About Angel Devlin

  About Tracy Lorraine

  Copyright © 2019 by Angel Devlin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by Andie M. Long

  Cover design and formatting by Dandelion Cover Designs

  A Note

  Hot Daddy Package is written in British English and contains British spelling and grammar. This may appear incorrect to some readers when compared to US English books.

  Angel & Tracy xo

  Chapter One

  Scott

  Rolling over as smoothly and as silently as I can, I swing my legs from the bed and prepare to leave. I don’t do the whole sleepover thing. That only gives women the impression that there might be more here than the terms they agreed to when they allowed me into their bed.

  I have two rules. One, always wrap the beast. Two, never allow a woman to believe there could be a second round.

  I love women. I love their eyes, their curves, their tight, pink pussies and the little noises they make when I have my fingers, or rather my cock, buried deep inside them. But as much as I might love them, I have no intention of one being a permanent fixture in my life. When you have someone permanent, they can leave. It could be by choice, or not, but somehow, they will always leave. It’s a fact.

  So I make sure I never get attached and more importantly, they don’t get attached. It might sound like a sad way to live, but I love my life. Five nights out of seven I can safely say I’ll be testing out someone else's bed, or sofa, or wall for that matter. I’ve got great friends who never question my choices. I have a job I love, a boss I love to piss off, and a colleague I love to wind up to the point I think she might claw my eyes out with her bottle opener.

  Picking up the used condom I abandoned on the floor a few moments ago, I drop it into the bin and make quick work of pulling my clothes on. I don’t need to worry about making too much noise because the woman I picked up tonight is snoring like a fucking freight train. A smile tugs at my lips; at least she enjoyed herself.

  I close her front door and pull up the Uber app on my phone. I only live a couple of miles away but like fuck am I walking there in the pissing down rain at two am.

  By the time I get down from the sixth floor of her building, the Uber is sitting outside waiting for me.

  I jump in the back and get settled.

  “Good night?” The driver asks looking at me in the interior mirror. I didn’t bother checking my appearance before escaping her flat so I can only imagine that I look like I’ve been fucked six ways from Sunday. I should fucking hope so after she pulled at my hair like it was the thing that was sending her to heaven. That of course was my cock which she tended to with a little more of a gentle touch.

  “Yeah, man. Great night.”

  He chuckles as he turns back to the road and pulls away from the curb. His name is familiar, but I probably spend as much time in the back of an Uber as I do my flat so there’s a very good chance that this isn’t my first journey with this guy.

  We’re outside my building in minutes and I’m heading towards my shower and then bed.

  Okay, so I have a third rule. Never go to bed smelling like women whose world I rocked. Chances are I’ll be running late for work tomorrow and like fuck do I want to have the stench of their perfume in my nose all day. It’s bad enough that Suki smells like a fucking florist. It’s about the only thing that’s feminine about the bartender I love to hate.

  Everyone thinks it’s because I want to fuck her. I can understand why they’d think that, she’s female after all, but little do they know, I have got some fucking standards and Suki fucking Madden doesn’t hit them.

  She’s attractive. Sure. She’s got a banging little body. Yes, I’ll admit that. But, man, is she a raging fucking bitch.

  Pushing open my front door, I begin stripping my clothes from my body and dropping them wherever they fall as I make my way to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I step under it before it has chance to warm up. I shiver, but I don’t have time to hang around. I need sleep before my early shift at the restaurant tomorrow.

  I’m a waiter. The best fucking waiter InHale has ever seen I’ll have you know, and there’s no fucking chance I’ll risk my job there. I’m onto a good thing. The owner is a legend and he pays damn well, plus his food is da shit and I get to eat it whenever the fuck I like; just like pussy come to think of it.

  Once I’m confident I’ve replaced that chick’s perfume with my own bodywash, I rub a towel over my hair and my body before diving face first into bed forgoing the effort of pulling any clothes on. I’d rather let it all hang out anyway. Not like anyone’s going to see it.

  Sure as shit, when my alarm eventually stirs me to life and I force my eyes open, I’m late.

  “Bollocks.”

  Dragging my body to the wardrobe, I pull on my work uniform, book my Uber, brush my teeth, and run some wax through my hair, thankful for my shower after sex rule when the scent of my bodywash hits me.

  With a quick nod at myself in the mirror, I head out.

  The cold hits me the second I pull the building’s front door open. My breath comes out in clouds as I cross my arms over my chest wondering why I didn’t have the brain power to grab a coat.

  I blame the lingering alcohol from last night and race towards the car waiting for me.

  Resting my head back on the head rest, I close my eyes and wish that I was still in bed with a good few hours of sleep ahead of me, but instead I’m closing in on the fancy side of town ready to stare into the delightfully evil eyes of my co-worker. Our boss, Jenson, knows we spend most of our time trying to piss each other off as much as possible, so it always amazes me when I look at the shift rota to find us on the same shifts.

  As the car comes to a stop on the pavement outside the restaurant, I spot her through the glass. A little excitement sizzles in my belly. I love watching her get fired up. Her eyes alight with passion, her lips curl, and her chest heaves as she tries to work out her retaliation. I’m not embarrassed to admit that my main aim every shift is to see that look on her. It’s almost become an obsession.

  She’s busy arranging bottles behind the bar when I walk in. She doesn’t notice my arrival. I walk right up to her so she has no choice but to crash into me when she stands.

  Leaning forward, I whisper in her ear. “Mornin’, Kitten.”

  Her gasp of fear makes it all worth it. That’s soon forgotten though when she stands faster than I was anticipating and slams the back of her head into my nose.

  I assume it’s an accident. That’s
until she turns her cold eyes on me and I find amusement there, alongside a smirk of her bright-red lips.

  “Oops,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand, doing a fucking shit impression of trying to look innocent. Suki is anything but fucking innocent. I’d put everything I own on it. She’s a little wildcat. I bet she fucking scratches too.

  My eyes stream with water, but thankfully when I wipe at my nose, there’s no blood.

  “If you’d gone to bed a little earlier last night, you might be a little more alert this morning.” Her hand lands on her hip as she juts it out, her bad attitude rolling off her.

  My teeth grind and my jaw pops as I stare at her. She’s wearing a little red dress that I’m sure would be obscene on most women but seeing as Suki is about as tall as most ten-year-olds it sits mid-thigh. She’s got sky-high red heels on as usual, but they still only bring the top of her head to my chest, forcing her to look up at me when I step forward.

  “Jealous? We both know you were in bed alone in your fluffy pyjamas with a sappy fucking romance novel before eight pm last night.”

  “I might have been in my own bed, unlike you, but I can assure you there was no romance novel. More… researching where I can hide a body and not be caught.”

  “Oh I did plenty of body research last night.”

  “You’re such a mutt. Go and wash the girl from your neck and get the fuck to work.” My hand instinctively lifts to my neck and her laugh makes me want to wrap it tightly around hers instead.

  Our stare holds, hate crackling between us. I open my mouth to shoot an insult back but sadly, we’re interrupted.

  “Can you two rip shreds from each other when we’ve not got a breakfast queue forming outside,” Jenson calls, stepping into the restaurant with us.

  “You got it, boss. I’m all ready to go,” Suki sings sweetly, smiling at our boss like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

  “Suck up,” I whisper and just about move fast enough so the heel of her shoe doesn’t connect with my shin.

  By the time I get to the welcome stand, the queue is stretching well down the street. It’s been this way since Jenson’s first appearance in The Sunday Times. This place was busy before but fuck, it’s insane now. I’d love to know what that smug bastard’s making out of this place.

  When I look back, Suki is busying herself with the coffee machine, doing anything to avoid looking at me, and a couple of other waiters appear from out of the back ready to get this shit started. I give them a nod, then open the doors.

  The morning flies and my banter with the customers, or more my flirting with the females, ensures I’m constantly entertained and maintain the devil stares from Suki from her hiding place behind the polished bar.

  I love our customers. Getting to talk to such a wide range of interesting people is just one of the things that keeps me here, but knowing I have Suki’s attention every time I so much as look at a female is what really keeps my flirting at a level that even makes me cringe at times. I can’t help it, my need to piss her off knows no bounds. If it weren’t for the way she looks at me like she wants to carve up my dick with her lemon knife, then I might think she was jealous.

  We’re well into our lunch service when a group of four women descend and are seated in my area. I’m too far away from the bar to physically hear it but Suki’s groan rings out loud and clear in my mind. I glance over at her and find her glaring back at me, her eyes rolling so much I might be worried they might fall out if I cared.

  My lip curls up into my trademark panty-melting smile and she mimics shooting herself in the temple before turning away to fulfil an order.

  With my smile still in place, I head over to my new diners. “Good afternoon. What brings you beautiful ladies here today?”

  Every single one of them melts when they glance up at me. Two of them actually do a double take, which does awesome things for my already over-inflated ego.

  “It’s Jenna’s thirtieth,” one of them says, batting her eyelashes at me. “We’re planning on knocking a few things off her bucket list.”

  Glancing over at her friend, a bright red blush covers her cheeks. My excitement level immediately kicks up a notch. Leaning forward, I make eye contact with each before focusing back on the birthday girl.

  “That sounds intriguing. Tell me more.” Birthday Girl opens and closes her mouth a few times like a fucking fish, but no words leave her lips. Instead, when I hear a voice, it’s really not the one I’m expecting.

  “Scott,” a shrill Suki screeches across the busy restaurant. It’s like nails on a chalkboard and immediately makes my spine stiffen.

  “My apologies, ladies. It seems I’m required elsewhere. I’ll be right back.” I give them a wink before standing to full height and turning.

  My eyes almost pop out of my head when they land on Suki and what’s in her arms.

  Chapter Two

  Suki

  Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I wonder if I’m up to a day of dealing with Scott Sullivan. I’d had a disturbed night’s sleep with dreams about my family, or lack thereof. I’ll have to give Carl a ring, I think, and see if he wants to come over for tea one night this week. I wonder what I’ll do when he eventually meets a girl and settles down. Because the fact my cousin is single is, I’m sure, one of the main reasons why the offer of a hot home-cooked meal has him agree to come around to my flat and put up with my scintillating conversation once or twice a week.

  I had a sex dream about Scott. The thought makes my lips pull into a grimace and has me stepping quickly into the shower like I need to wash the dream off. Ugh. Don’t get me wrong, the guy looks like a walking sex god, but his personality… he’s… oily, smarmy, smug, conceited, a dickhead. I’d go on, but I don’t have all day. I find the constant banter between us exhausting, yet it makes my shift go quicker. There’s a love/hate thing about when we’re on shift at the same time, which is more frequently than not, despite my boss’ wife, Leah, telling me she’d asked Jenson to put us on opposite shifts when I first started there and the animosity between us had become apparent.

  He just doesn’t seem to have a personality. Women are so fucking shallow. All they see is the outside of him and they’re smitten, and then he turns on the charm and they’re like lost rats following the Pied Piper. Only here the Pied Piper is a King Rat. Fucking hell, Suki, you’ve spent half of your shower thinking about Scott. I get annoyed with myself and scrub myself down harder than absolutely necessary. I finish getting ready and get to work.

  On a morning shift, I’m mainly working the coffee machine as the breakfast and brunch rush begins, although some people start their day with Mimosas or straight champagne. I could do with being drunk myself today. I’m tired and have already had to put up with Scott’s crap. We’re now starting the lunch rush and he’s taken about eight phone numbers already today.

  “Everything okay, Suki?” Jenson asks, his head slightly tilted as he looks at me. I straighten up. “Yes, boss. I’m just feeling a bit tired today. Hope I’m not sickening for something.”

  “Me too. I need my best bartender here.” He looks at me closer. “If you need to take five though at any time, or go home, just let me know, and I’ll get someone to cover for you.”

  “I’ll be okay, I’m sure. Scott seems to have the customers handled. They don’t seem all that interested in drinks.” I nod over to where he’s taking orders and schmoozing. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair and pouts. I groan. “Why they fall for that I don’t know.”

  “Well, it helps business, so I don’t mind at all.” Jenson grins.

  “How come I’m almost always on shift with him when you know we hate each other?” I ask. Then I want to fling my hand over my mouth. It’s the question I’ve always pondered but never let loose.

  “Suki. Have you not read reviews of the restaurant at all?” Jenson’s mouth has a quirk to it.

  “No.”

  “So you’ve not seen TripAdvisor?”

  “That’
s for holidays, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head. “Not anymore. Now it also has reviews for restaurants. You should take a look and then you’ll see why you and Scott are put on shifts together a lot. It’s not just good food and The Sunday Times reviews that brings people to InHale regularly.”

  With that he wanders through to his office, and I make a mental note to look at TripAdvisor later to see what he’s talking about.

  Right now though I can see a woman walking towards me with a baby in her arms. “What can I get you?” I ask, noting the sweat on her upper lip and her wide eyes. She looks around and her eyes alight on Scott who’s just come out of the kitchen.

  She moves the baby in her arms until it’s passed across the bar. I automatically take hold of it, waiting for her to say she has cramp or something. “Tell Scott it’s his.” She says and she walks off.

  “Hey. Hey there, lady. What are you doing? Come back.” I shout, but the woman is wearing trainers to my high heels and I have a baby in my arms and she does not. She runs out of the restaurant and doesn’t look back.

  I look down at the baby in shock. It only looks a few weeks old. What the fuck just happened? She can’t just give me a baby and run off. We need to call the police. But she said it’s Scott’s. The sly dog. He kept that one quiet, that one of his swimmers escaped. The baby is fast asleep. It has a white sleepsuit on and the finest smattering of dark hair. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl, but as an awful smell hits my nostrils, I do know that it needs a nappy change. My final lot of foster parents used to take in babies and left me to look after them ninety percent of the time, so I know my way around a baby, and the fact the woman dropped it off without so much as a changing bag makes alarm bells ring even more.