When I was done meeting with Mrs. Anderson, I loaded Maisie into the old Volvo I bought at her father’s encouragement when he hired me to babysit Maisie after school and as needed.
“The old Volvos are like tanks. I’ll feel better about you driving with Maisie in that over another car,” he’d said.
My Volvo looked like a tired old box, but it ran well and insurance on it was low, so I didn’t complain. A man like Dylan, young, ridiculously handsome, and rich, should have been driving a sports car, but he drove an old Volvo too. He lived modestly, belying his wealth built from a chain of gyms and real estate investments.
“That’s why my wife left,” he’d once told me. “She thinks I’m a miser. ‘Why have all that money if we can’t have fun with it?’ she’d said.”
Personally, I could think of all sorts of ways to have fun with Dylan that didn’t require money. Sure, I was a virgin and had no experience in sex, but I’d read romance and erotica, and had a good imagination. I had fun for free many times alone in the bathtub or in my bed simply thinking about Dylan.
Maisie and I stopped at the grocery store, where I bought all the ingredients for brownies and then I drove her home. I parked in my driveaway, which conveniently was next to Dylan’s driveway. I’d first met him last year when I and two of my college girlfriends rented the house next to his, which he also happened to own.
“Brownies have sugar. My daddy won’t think they’re healthy,” Maisie said as she pulled a chair to the counter where I organized the ingredients.
“These are for your party tomorrow, so I think it will be okay.”
He’d never gotten upset at me for baking with her. He just didn’t want her to get too used to desserts. I respected his wishes, usually. In my mind, a little treat now and then wasn’t bad.
We mixed and stirred, and in a few minutes we had our batter in the oven.
“Can we play a game?” Maisie asked as I turned the oven timer on.
“Yes. What do you want to play?” I looked down at her. She was the perfect mixture of her dad and mom. She had dark hair as they both did, her mom’s striking blue eyes, and Dylan’s wonderful smile. She was sweet like him too.
I was all for women pursuing their dreams, but I couldn’t understand how Veronica, Dylan’s ex, could leave him and Maisie to be a model. She and Dylan seemed to get along all right. Twice in the last year, she’d been in New York with enough free time to visit with Maisie. I suspect she and Dylan engaged in a little horizontal play as well, but within a few days she was off to Rome or Paris or wherever models went, leaving a perfect man and child behind. If they were mine, I’d never leave.
I shook my head free of those thoughts. They weren’t mine. They’d never be mine. I needed to figure out a way to stop my brain from sometimes drifting into fantasyland about them.
“Candyland,” Maisie decided.
“Fun! Why don’t you get it out and set it up on the dining table?” I smiled like it was the most fun idea ever, when in truth, I’d be happy to never play that game again. There was nothing wrong with it. For kindergarteners it was perfect, as it didn’t require reading or math. But I’d played that game so many times; not just with Maisie, but also with other children I babysat back home in Brooklyn where I grew up.
“”Kay.” She rushed out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.
While she got the game ready, I went through the refrigerator looking for what I’d make her for dinner. Dylan usually got home around seven, which was too late for Maisie to eat, so I made her dinner. Most times, I made enough for Dylan too. I figured it would give him more time to spend with Maisie in the evenings if he didn’t have to worry about feeding himself.
We played a game of Candyland and then took the brownies out of the oven to cool. I was able to convince her to go out into the backyard to play instead of more Candyland. We played superheroes until she saved me from the evil bad guy, and then I went in to make her dinner while she played with craft dough.
I was pulling roasted vegetables from the oven when the sound of the door opening and shutting echoed.
“Daddy!” Maisie called out with excitement.
“Hey, lazy Maisie.” His deep baritone voice reached me in the kitchen. I checked my watch. It was almost five thirty.
I exited the kitchen. “You’re home early,” I said when I saw him. I’d been working for Dylan for nearly a year, so you’d think by now I’d be used to seeing him. But every time I took in his t-shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, the fine ass filling his jeans, not to mention the sizable mound under his zipper, I nearly swooned. When he’d smile at me while holding Maisie, I did swoon.
“Yep. I have a new manager at the local gym, and my operations person for the company is back from maternity leave, so I should have some more time for this little peanut.” He lifted Maisie up and blew a raspberry on her belly.
“Daddy.” She laughed, and the sound of it along with the scene was too sweet. I felt a bit like an intruder.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Maisie, why don’t you set a place for your dad?”
“”Kay.” She wriggled as he put her down and ran past me into the kitchen.
“How was the day?” he asked me.
“Good.”
He sniffed the air. “I think I smell baked sugar.”
I laughed. “Brownies. They’re for Maisie’s class party tomorrow for the last day of school. Will you be able to come?”
Dylan was a hard worker, often putting in long days, but he never missed an activity of Maisie’s. “Absolutely.”
Maisie rushed back into the room. “I got you the Mickey fork, Daddy.”
“I love that guy,” he said with a wink to his daughter. He looked at me. “Why don’t you stay?”
“Oh, it’s okay.” I waved his invite away even though I really wanted to stay.
“It doesn’t feel right that you cook for us but don’t eat.”
“Stay and eat,” Maisie said. “I’ll get you the Donald fork.” She ran past me into the kitchen again.
“You can’t turn down the Donald fork,” he said with a smirk.
“I guess I’ll stay then.” It was really pathetic how much I liked it whenever he’d ask me dine with them on nights like this. I felt like a dumb school girl wanting whatever crumbs of attention Dylan would throw my way.
“Yay!” Maisie put the fork on the table. “Daddy, we played Candyland and I drew this picture. It’s of Little Bear and his mommy. His mommy lives with him, not like my mommy.”
The spark in Dylan’s eyes dimmed. “Where’s Little Bear’s daddy?”
“He’s …” Maisie’s brow furrowed. “Where is he, Tessa?”
“That’s a good question. The book doesn’t say.”
Dylan shook his head. “Dads don’t get enough attention in kids’ materials.”
He was right, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t more actively sought out books with dads. “You should write one,” I said.
“I’ll write one, Daddy.” Maisie grabbed her paper and crayons and started coloring.
A few minutes later, we were at the table eating chicken and vegetables.
“So, tomorrow is the last day of school. How does it feel, Mais?” he asked.
“Good. After tomorrow I’m in first grade.” She held up her index finger.
“You need to stop growing up so fast,” he said with a sweet smile at Maisie.
“I can’t help it, Daddy.” She held her hands up in a shrug.
“How about you, Tessa? What grade do you go into next year?” he asked, taking a bite of the vegetables.
I gave a little shrug as I pushed my food around my plate. “Eighteenth? If I go.”
“If?”
“Eighteen!” Maisie’s eyes widened.
I didn’t want to go into my financial woes. “Just need to secure tuition funds.” To avoid going into detail, I took a bite of my chicken.
He frowned. “Is that a real problem?”
I shook my head. “The problem is, what are Maisie and I going to do all summer?”
“I want to go to the pool,” Maisie said.
“So, you’re still good to watch her this summer?” Dylan watched me over the rim of his glass of water.
I nodded. “Yes. Maisie and I are going to have a blast, aren’t we sweet pea?”
“Yep.” Maisie chased a brussels sprout around her plate with her fork.
After dinner, I offered to do the dishes while Dylan played Candyland with Maisie. When I was done, Dylan walked me to the door, and watched as I made my way next door to my house. He always watched to make sure I got home okay, a gesture that wasn’t needed, and yet I found it completely endearing.
“How’s the single hot dad?” Corrine, one of my roommates asked as I closed and locked the door behind me.
“Still hot and single,” I said.
“I don’t know why you don’t jump him,” said Allison, my other roommate. She was sitting on the couch painting her toenails a bright pink.
“Because I don’t want the embarrassment that would come with him rejecting me.” I sat on the couch next to Allison and looked over at Corrine, who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table doing some sort of formulas for her stats final.
“I doubt that would happen. You’re pretty with a good body.” Allison set her nail polish in the table.
“Remember, he used to sleep with Veronica Tisdale. There’s no way I compare to her.”
“He’s a man. I’m not sure they’re that picky,” Corrine said.
“Gee thanks,” I said with a laugh.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’d still jump him. I bet he’s good in bed.” Allison waved her hands over her toes to help dry the polish.
“He doesn’t seem to get out much.” Corrine put her pencil down. “Does he?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I only babysit when he’s working. I’ve never seen him on a date. I think he’s too focused on raising Maisie.”
“He probably gets his jollies off with a woman at the gym,” Allison said.
I frowned. “You think?”
“He has to sometime, doesn’t he? Don’t men’s balls shrivel up or something if they don’t blow their load every now and then?”
I knew Allison was kidding, but I still said, “You’ve been letting Keith manipulate you into bed again, haven’t you?”
She gave me a coy smile. “Maybe. He’s good at it.”
“Manipulating or in bed?” Corrine asked.
“Both.” Allison waggled her eyebrows.
That night in bed, I thought about what Dylan might do if I came on to him. He was nice to me, but that didn’t mean he thought I was attractive. He’d probably act flattered, but inside be horrified. He was a man who’d had lots of sex with Veronica Tisdale, one of the most beautiful women in the world. I could imagine all the ways they’d had sex. With me, he’d have someone who had no clue what they were doing. Sure, there was an idea that men liked virgins, but I wasn’t sure that was true. Men liked creativity in bed more, I was sure, and that I didn’t have.
With a sigh, I rolled over and went to sleep. At least I could have him in my dreams.
. Continue reading Tessa and Dylan’s story here (FREE in Kindle Unlimited)
More Books in the Series
Enjoy these emotional second chance romances in the Heart of Hope Series. All books are standalone and do not have to be read in order.
Our Last Chance (Heart of Hope Book 1)
So Wrong (Heart of Hope Book 3)
Imperfect Love (Heart of Hope Book 4)
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An Irish Affair (Heart 0f Hope Book 2) Page 24