A Man Who Knows What He Wants Box Set 5

by Flora Ferrari

  And he didn’t stop there.

  His online language instruction quickly branched to include a brick and mortar education school where he taught professionals business English. One of his earliest clients was a doctor over from Russia on a work visa and when that doctor casually mentioned he was looking for a nurse at the University of California in San Francisco where he was in residence, well Sean replied back just as quickly he knew a highly skilled and highly qualified nurse who would be perfect for the job.

  Our sister in law.

  Gail was more than happy to ditch the two hours she spent commuting round trip to Vegas in exchange for a better climate in S.F. and of course way more pay. Sure it cost a lot more to live in paradise, but at the end of the day the added salary more than made up for the switch.

  And with Gail securing a job it meant my brother Vince was coming as well. They put their house up for sale and surprisingly it closed in under thirty days.

  So now both families lived together, again, but this time in Northern California.

  We got a lot of laughs out of the fact that Sean was Vince and I’s neighbor when we were kids and now Vince and Gail were Sean and I’s neighbors now that we were adults. And they were our neighbors, as in right next door.

  But I think the big winners were really our kids.

  We had four and Vince and Gail had three. We joked who would have the eighth kid and if eight would really be enough.

  I think if Sean had his way we’d have eight of our own. I quickly reminded him I was the one who had to go through the nine months and then the childbirth, luckily enough with Gail by my side during delivery.

  He didn’t press too hard when I mentioned that because he knew S.F. was a very progressive city and if he kept pushing the next step would be Gail or I countering his persistence by insisting he wear one of those pregnancy suits they make. He’d have to wear it the entire time I was pregnant.

  But deep down inside I did want as many kids as he did. I was just pacing myself. I’d have a child soon but I wanted to try and lose some weight. I just knew if I had a bunch back-to-back-to-back that I’d never get the weight off.

  And even though he told me how sexy I was with a few extra pounds, and I was very appreciative he rounded way down only referring to it as a few, I still didn’t want to get too big.

  I need to be in at least decent enough shape to be there to chase our kids around the yard, drive them to all their practices, recitals, and sleep overs, and of course I wanted to be around as long as I could to watch them grow up. I wanted to be a grandma and a great-grandma one day too!

  But Sean constantly reminded me with more weight he could really let loose in the bedroom, and oh did he ever.

  I thought for sure after I had a few kids he’s start to lose interest and our life would be more about our children than our passion for each other. Love? Sure. But I just assumed the passion would wane.

  Boy, was I ever wrong.

  And this older man never once had to resort to pills, creams, or any of those other things to heighten his desire for me.

  He claimed it was all the amazing food I fed him. That and that he just couldn’t get enough of me no matter how much I was able to give him.

  And half the time I was literally fighting him off me.

  He’d tell me seven times a day after seven years makes complete sense.

  Good grief! I need to be able to stand up at least part of the day.

  But that was my Sean with his insatiable appetite not only for me but for our family.

  And that’s what mattered most.

  The sexiest man on earth is the one who’s completely devoted to his wife, and his family.

  And that was exactly what Sean was each and every minute of every day…and night! ;)

  Extended Epilogue

  Sean

  Twenty years later

  “Anything?” the commanding officer of the entire U.S. Military asks my son.

  “Working on it, sir.”

  My son frantically, yet with control, shuffled papers in front of himself looking for a pattern.

  He was a real life code breaker.

  Most assignments of this type had been given to computers long ago. Computers with their algorithms that could crunch numbers and letters and symbols with such speed and accuracy that no human could keep up.

  No human but our son.

  We’d started Scott on languages immediately after his first word. He’d said, “mom” which absolutely melted Victoria’s heart. And I was right there to tell him, “Mama. Madre. Mutter. Majka. Ma or Maji.” I would have continued by Victoria gave me one of those well-deserved “not right now” looks. She was too lost in her perfect moment.

  And now was the perfect moment for Scott. If he could just crack this code he could keep the cold war cold and would become an international hero in the process. I’d always thought I was pretty good with language, but Scott? He was a savant.

  The kid was incredible and I’d say that even if he wasn’t my own flesh and blood.

  I’d like to think he got it from me, but after seeing how quickly his mother picked up languages when she started helping me grow my business all I could say was “wow.” I think she outdid me with her ability to grasp different languages.

  And that ability had been passed down to Scott.

  We loved all our kids equally and felt they truly had their own unique and very strong skill sets, but Scott was on the global stage with his right now. Not exactly though, because what he was doing was Top Secret and wouldn’t be divulged unless he was successful. And even then he might get recognition until years after the fact.

  But he didn’t care. That’s my boy. He was doing it for love of his country and fellow citizens. And even though now I’m one of those citizens the military reinstated my Top Secret clearance for this one assignment of his so that we could bounce ideas off each other if necessary.

  My son often joked that that trip to Alcatraz where I pretended we’d leave him was the turning point that made him who he was. Although he was scared out of his wits that day it completely focused him.

  He took a raw talent we weren’t really aware of at the time and channeled it into what it was today. He’d immersed himself in languages at age seven and never looked back.

  I see the goose bumps on Scott’s arm as I look over his shoulder.

  “Dad! Dad!” he says as he turns to me.

  He jumps up out of his chair and hugs me harder than you should hug an older man, not that I consider myself old. Fifty-seven is the new thirty-seven after all.

  I see a tear stream down his eye and I can’t help but do the same. I must be getting soft. I guess I have that tendency when I see my kids overwhelmed with happiness.

  “Call in the general. I’ve got it.”

  I take a step towards the door to get the general who’s just on the other side, likely speaking with the commander in chief yet again.

  Suddenly I feel a hand grab my wrist.

  I turn.

  “Want me to show you first?”

  I look back at the door and then back at my son.

  I nod, never really sure if this room is under surveillance, but suspecting it surely must be.

  My son guides me to the chair he was just in and quickly goes through all the steps how he figured it out.

  I’m sure it makes complete sense and it will wow everyone, but to be honest I don’t hear a single word.

  I only see.

  I see how excited he is. How enthusiastic he is. And most importantly how happy he is.

  That’s all I ever really wanted for my children and to see this level of happiness from them is a father’s dream.

  And I know I’ll get to see it again tonight when we all talk about it at the dinner table. Or at least as much as he’s allowed to disclose, which will likely be nothing. I may have a Top Secret clearance for this one project, but even that only stretches so far.

  I laugh to myself realizing the irony
, but know my wife will see the excitement on his face and know he figured it out after putting his all into it.

  And then I’ll get to share in her excitement when I take her hand and we jokingly argue over who’s son our boy is.

  But we always come to the same conclusion. He’s ours, just as all our children are.

  And we love them all equally and will do so forever.

  But our love for them starts with a slightly different love for me. One that can never be matched or replaced.

  One that makes my world go round.

  One that makes life worth living.

  My love for my wife. My one and only.

  The most beautiful woman in the world and she’s mine…mine all mine!

  54) WARD’S INDEPENDENCE DAY

  WARD’S INDEPENDENCE DAY

  When a rock hard alpha male firefighter pulls a five-year-old girl from an overturned car on the I-5 on a Southern California morning he has no idea the kind of pull she’s about to have on him.

  Now an orphan, and a ward of the state, he can’t bear to see her sent to a foster home. And he feels personally connected. With his fireman connections he calls on city hall and becomes her guardian.

  But this older man knows nothing about raising a young daughter, but there’s a first time for everything and he’s up to the challenge of being her protector and single dad.

  But this Independence Day will be her independence day in more ways than one. It’s her eighteenth birthday and she has a choice to make now that she will no longer be a ward.

  She can go her own way or acknowledge that her guardian and protector has become more than just that…so much more.

  They’ve both experienced many first times together, but there’s one first time this virgin ward is saving especially for her gorgeous guardian.

  These last few months she sees her handsome firefighter less as her guardian and more like the man of her dreams.

  She’s hoping sparks will fly this 4th of July and lead to a California romance that celebrates Independence Day in more ways than one…

  *Ward’s Independence Day is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  Chapter One

  Finn

  3rd of July

  She runs her forearm across her brow wiping away the sweat that’s quickly accumulating under the hot summer sun.

  I keep the blinds opened just enough so I can see her but she can’t see me, not that she’d turn and look back across the street. She’s fully engrossed in her work.

  I’m so proud of her. A day before her eighteenth birthday and she’d saved up seven thousand dollars just from her high school job. She had turned her love of gardening into a small landscaping business that’s undisputedly the best in town.

  Seven thousand dollars is a lot of money for a teenager, and tomorrow on her eighteenth birthday she’ll be free to do with it as she pleases.

  Technically she could do whatever she wants with it today. I may be her guardian but I trust her and her decisions completely.

  What I don’t trust is myself.

  I’ve thought of ways to try and convince her to stay, but deep down I know it’s contradictory to the values I’ve instilled in her.

  Hard work. Self reliance. Setting out on her own and making this world her oyster.

  She knows she’s got my complete support, but I know that she’s been looking forward to her eighteenth birthday for years.

  It signifies her becoming an adult, at least in the eyes of the law.

  But in my opinion she became an adult long ago. The way she carries herself. The way she never makes excuses for anything. The way she’s devoted to her studies and her small yet growing business.

  But her business isn’t the only thing growing these days.

  And that’s exactly what concerns me most.

  She’d always just been like a daughter to me. That and nothing more. Sure the court refers to our relationship as one of a guardian and ward, but I never liked those terms much. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. She’s my daughter and I’m her father.

  And I’ve watched her grow up like any proud papa would these last thirteen years since we’ve been together.

  But this last year there’s just been something about her growth that I can’t pretend not to notice no matter how hard I try. The way she fills out her tops. The way her hips are just a bit bigger. The way the back of her jeans have a little more curve than before. If anyone knows about late bloomers it’s the gorgeous gardener across the street who’s making Mrs. Smith’s rose garden look like the toast of the town right now. And she’s the same girl I shared French toast with this morning…something many fathers and their daughters do every morning I’m sure.

  But no matter how much I tell myself I’m her father, technically I’m not. And that small technicality is what’s making me question everything right now.

  Ev-ery-thing.

  These last few weeks I feel like I’ve gone from the dad who taught her how to drive a car to the guy who has to pump his own breaks when it comes to the thoughts he’s been having about the young woman who he shares a home with.

  And it would be nothing more than four walls and a roof without her. She makes it a home. It’s her eye, and her touch, that’s led this place from being nothing more than a glorified man cave to an actual home a place with art on the walls, small visual touches that lift my mood, and of course everything being so clean.

  And it’s not just her breaking her back to keep the place clean and decorated. Not that at all. She’s shown me how colors and shapes compliment and contrast one another and I’m much better at keeping my place looking presentable and like a human being who with two working eyes lives here.

  I tell myself I’ve taught her a lot of things, but in reality she’s taught me just as much if not more. Funny how that works sometimes.

  But what’s not going to work at all is if she packs up and leaves tomorrow morning like she’s been planning on for years.

  She’s certainly ready, but the reality is I’m not.

  By day I’m a firefighter afraid of nothing and no-one, but tomorrow I’m afraid I’m going to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.

  And I’m torn. I’ve always encouraged her to spread her wings and fly, but there’s no saying that she needs to change her nest to do so.

  She can still live here with me. I can still be her anchor, her rock, as she always tells me I am. That doesn’t have to change one bit.

  But it’s up to her. I have to know my role and let her do what she needs to do, no matter how difficult tomorrow becomes for me.

  On the other hand I need to do what I need to do, and that’s tip the scales in my favor. The scales that she’ll weigh when it’s time to make the decision that could change everything.

  And I’m determined to let her know I want her here with me but not because I’m her guardian.

  Because I want her for my own…forever.

  Chapter Two

  Finley

  At this hour the sun hits Mrs. Smith’s big windows at just the right angle and I have a clear reflection from across the street.

  I don’t look right at his reflection because I don’t want him to know…

  Know that I see him standing there watching me.

  But more importantly to know that I’m watching him just as intently as he’s watching me.

  He always does his workout at this time of the morning, at least when he’s not at the station. And by the time he’s finished he’s got on nothing but a pair of short shorts and a light coat of sweat dripping from his body. And in the reflection it’s like his body is glistening in the morning sun like a beautiful ocean…just one covered in muscles and holding a coffee cup.

  I have to get out of the house at this time, even though Mrs. Smith prefers I do her gardening in the evening when it’s cooler. But I can’t. I can’t be in the house when he’s working out.

  Wat
ching his muscles ripple. Smelling his scent. I know he wears deodorant, but still there’s just something about the way he smells when he’s exerting all that energy getting all hot and sweaty. It’s like his deodorant is overpowered by the rich, dark, woodsy notes that escape from his pores and always find their way right into my nose and then make my panties tingle.

  And my panties have been tingling a lot recently.

  He’s always been the perfect father figure for me, and continues to be, but there’s just something about him recently. Or maybe it’s something about me. When I look at him the word “dad” doesn’t pop into my mind any more. As a matter of fact no words pop into my mind, but a whole lot of feelings do.

  Some of them I understand, and some of them are very confusing. But if I’m honest with myself I know they aren’t confusing. They’re only confusing because of the relationship we already have. Ward and guardian as the state calls it. Father and daughter as we call it.

  But recently I see it more as two lovers dancing around the obvious with neither one wanting to make the first move.

  Maybe it’s a woman’s intuition, but I feel like we both know. It’s inevitable, but neither one wants to put themselves out there. Not because it’s wrong or dirty or anything like that. There’s just some taboo undertone that is so strong it’s stopping us every time one of us gets close.

  And right now I’m very close to sticking this spade straight in the dirt and marching back across the street and doing some really dirty things with him.

  I laugh under my breath as I dig up another weed.

  “Some dirty things, huh Finley?” Like I even know what those things are.

  I mean, yeah, I’m not oblivious. I’ve got the Internet and friends, but that’s no substitute for experience…and I’ve got exactly none of that.

  High school is a time to try lots of things, but I’ve never thought of trying anything with any of the boys my age. Yuck. They’re just so immature and…I don’t know really. Just not men yet I guess. But plenty of men aren’t really men to me either. They’re more like overgrown boys.