His Accidental Daddy

by Luna, David

  His Accidental Daddy

  Luna David

  His Accidental Daddy

  Copyright © 2020 Luna David

  www.lunadavid.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover design by Designs by Morningstar

  Editing done by MA Hinkle with LesCourt Author Services

  Proofreading provided by Allison Holzapfel and Anita Ford

  Interior Design and Formatting provided by Flawless Touch Formatting

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author, Luna David. The only exception is in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places and events, the names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Warnings

  Childhood trauma/neglect, alcoholism, mental health, anxiety disorder

  To anyone who’s had someone important come into their lives accidentally. Sometimes fate has a way of helping us when we need it most.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Also by Luna David

  Blurb

  With the deck stacked against him from birth, Asher Simmons lives a quiet, simple life. He talks to plants more than he does humans and prefers it that way. Though he often feels like something is missing, understanding what that is and how to get it feels like an insurmountable task.

  Making a living out of helping others achieve their professional dreams serves to help Thornton Hayes realize his own. He’s also a Daddy, through and through. But Thornton’s one dream of finding a boy who needs a man to take care of his every need is one he’s had no luck of fulfilling.

  When a terrible accident brings the two men together, neither of them expect their intense connection. Has Daddy found a little he can pamper, protect, and provide for, or will Asher deny every instinct he has to regress?

  Chapter One

  Asher

  “How are you guys doing today? Hmm? You’re looking healthy and hearty. Almost time for harvest. A few more days, I think.” Asher moved from one aquaponics grouping of plants to the next, tracking their growth cycles on his tablet. He kept a constant conversation going with the plants, knowing it probably made no difference but hoping it helped them in some small way. Regardless, it felt right. They were his babies, after all.

  He checked the water pumps and the timers and then scanned his pH data gathered from the last twenty-four hours and went down the row of ponds, adjusting the pH levels depending on their data set. He spent the last couple of hours of every shift performing these tasks, talking all the while and tracking everything on his tablet. He liked to chart growth patterns for every plant in the greenhouse, the numbers fascinating him, educating him, and giving him a clearer understanding of what to expect and when to expect it.

  His boss and the owner of The Glasshouse, Jennifer Cook, who had taught him nearly everything he knew over the last four years of his employment, called to him from across a sea of aquaponics ponds growing all sorts of plants, vegetables, and flowers, their most profitable of which was cannabis. The Glasshouse was the biggest provider of medical marijuana in four counties, and it was what made Jenn’s greenhouse a very lucrative business and provided him with health insurance and a pretty good salary.

  He held up a hand, asking her to wait a moment until he’d gathered his current reading, put down his equipment, and made his way towards her. She was Italian through and through: a statuesque woman, taller than him by at least six inches, and who, at fifty-five, was still a stunner. She met him halfway and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve already spoken to Madi but wanted to ask if you had time to come in an hour early tomorrow. We’ll have enough staff for you both to take a couple of hours for lunch, if you’re willing to stay until the end of the day.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought the supply delivery wasn’t until Friday.”

  She gave him a sad smile, which pinged his anxiety as she shook her head. “This is a management meeting to discuss some changes coming up.”

  Yeah, that was more than just a ping. That was a full-fledged uppercut to his stress levels, and she must have seen it on his face. “Asher, it’s all right. I don’t want you worrying about this. We’ll get things sorted out tomorrow. It could be a really great thing for you both, okay?”

  Well, that was cryptic. He crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t want to make her feel guilty, so he gave her what he hoped was a smile but was probably more like a grimace. “All right. Sure. If she’s okay with it, I’m fine with it as well. I’m catching a ride with her, so that works.”

  She gave him a gentle smile and rubbed his back. “Great. I’ll bring coffee and bagels.”

  A real smile graced his face, and he chuckled. “You’re the best.”

  She winked at him. “I’m gonna finish up with the financials, but I’ll be ready to go when you are.”

  He started to walk backwards towards his next testing pond as he replied, “Sounds good. See you in about an hour.”

  As he watched her leave the greenhouse, dread pooled in his belly. His heart started to beat in earnest when he realized he was so close to the end of his workday. The stress he’d been able to push back once he’d arrived hit him full force. Driving. Driving anywhere was so stress-inducing for him, it was almost painful physically. He knew where the fear came from. He knew it was all in his head. He knew he gave it too much credence over his day-to-day existence. None of that mattered when his body was cold and clammy from panic.

  He made fists of his hands, imagining the calm he knew he could force on himself. He had another hour’s worth of work to do. He visualized relaxation and forced the vision of it, starting at his hands and moving up his arms to his head and his mind, and down from there to the rest of his body. It wasn’t a magic pill. It didn’t make the feelings go away, but every Tuesday evening, an hour before work was over, it allowed him to finish what needed to be done.

  Turning, he made his way back to where he’d left off and continued making adjustments. It was monotonous work, but he didn’t mind that. In fact, monotony worked in his favor. His job rarely stressed him out, and he loved what he did. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else and hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to, regardless of what Jenn had to say the following morning.

  When he was finished, he made his way to the back where there was an employee bathroom, a breakroom, the stockroom, and two offices. All the other employees had gone home an hour prior. Taking his apron off, he stowed it in his locker and pulled out his wallet and his cell phone, grabbin
g his coat off the hook as he walked out the door. He approached Jenn’s office and knocked on the doorjamb, only stepping in when she glanced up from her desk and took off her reading glasses.

  “Did an hour go by already?”

  He smirked at her surprise. “In the zone, huh?”

  “This is the only part of the business I don’t enjoy. I should have hired a business manager long ago. They could have taken care of all the accounting for me.”

  “Why not do it now?”

  She glanced at her desk again and shut down her computer. He couldn’t help but feel she was avoiding meeting his eyes, which made his heart beat a little faster. “We’ll have to see. I’m good at it. It’s just not fun for me, so I’m just feeling whiney.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t want to do it either. My best work is done with the plants.”

  She gave him a beaming smile that lit up her face. “Which is why you’re the greenhouse manager. I can’t believe how lucky I was when you walked in that door asking for an application.”

  He blushed, unable to help himself, and looked down at his shoes for a moment or two before gazing back up. “Thanks. Um, are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”

  She picked up her jacket and put it on, pulled her purse from the lower drawer of her desk, and walked his way. He gestured her through the door and followed her out to the front, where she unlocked the front door and held it open for him to walk through. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  “Yup. I’ll be here. Have a good night.”

  “You too, dear,” she said as they both headed to their cars.

  Jenn finally pulled out of the parking lot, waving jauntily. He always had to make himself look busy when she left at the same time as he did. He didn’t want her to know how bad his anxiety got. So, when she was gone, he sat in the driver’s seat and took several deep breaths, repeating his mantra, trying to convince himself everything was fine. “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” It didn’t work. It never did. He dreaded the days he had to drive. Dreaded going to bed the night before, dreaded waking up the next morning, and dreaded heading home after his shift.

  The ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach that had, more than once, caused stress ulcers, never truly went away. However, his deep breathing exercises, coupled with his relaxation music mix and his ridiculous mantra, usually helped him function long enough to get the job done.

  Panic attacks were a part of his daily life, and there were way too many things that triggered them. He’d bought several self-help books, read lots of blogs from others who dealt with the same thing, and focused on helping himself, rather than expecting others to help him, because if his past was anything to go by, he knew the only person he could truly count on was himself.

  Obviously, the books only helped so much because getting in the car and having to drive, something simple millions of people did every day, triggered panic. Every. Single. Damn. Time. It was exhausting. He thanked his lucky stars his best friend, Madison Girand, worked every other day of the week with him and lived in an apartment complex not too far from his own, which she had to pass on her way to work every day.

  He still got nervous being driven, but it was much more manageable. But Tuesdays. Fuck. Tuesdays were his worst days. That was the day Madi had all her labs for her night classes, and she never worked. Hence his current predicament of driving-induced panic. He’d made it to work, and he knew he’d make it home, now that his day was over. That didn’t make his stress dissipate in the least. It never did.

  The car was on. He’d learned long ago that turning the car on after he calmed himself down ratcheted up his panic, and he was back where he’d started. So, every time he had to drive, he forced himself to get in the car and turn it on immediately, and only then would he start his deep breathing and mantra exercises, such as they were.

  Feeling sick to his stomach, he put the car in reverse and backed ever so slowly out of his parking space, being hyper vigilant of what was around him, even though he knew everyone was gone and his was the only car left in the parking lot. As he turned onto the street, he flicked on his stereo, soaking up the sound of Enya’s “Watermark,” increasing the volume to drown out some of the road noise he knew he’d be hearing. It was a fifteen-minute drive, which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t too bad. Mentally, he knew this. Emotionally, it felt like hours.

  Not only was he stressed about the meeting the next morning, but it had been drizzling when he’d left. That had increased his stress levels, making everything that much harder. But halfway through his drive home, some fucked up, monsoon-type rain started attacking his windshield like he’d personally pissed it off.

  His body was still locked up with tension, and sheets of rain battered his car, causing him to slow down and focus on the road right in front of him so he didn’t lose track of the lines and move into another lane accidentally. The streets seemed strangely empty, which made him feel a little more at ease that he didn’t have to be worried about too many drivers around him as he drove into town.

  He pulled to a stop at a red light, taking a deep breath and shaking his hands out to relieve the ache in his fingertips caused by his brutal grip on the wheel. Not much longer and he’d be home. The rain fucking sucked, but he’d be all right. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, he glanced up to see the light turning from red to green and slowly pulled out into the intersection. Visibility was absolute shit, but when he glanced both ways down the street, the glow of a pair of headlights rushing towards him gave him only a second to suck in a breath.

  His heart rate shot through the roof, and he pushed his foot down on the gas in a futile attempt to take some action to avoid the inevitable, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He could only close his eyes, his muscles locking up, before the car slammed into his passenger side. The seat belt wasn’t enough to keep him from harm a second time. His head collided with the car door’s window, and everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Thornton

  It was Taco Tuesday, so Thornton was visiting Mama’s Chimichangas, the best Tex-Mex food truck in town. He was there every Tuesday at some point during the day. It also happened to be one of the businesses he’d invested in. He hadn’t regretted it for a second. He’d never tasted better. Business was good.

  Polishing off the trio of steak soft tacos he favored, he tossed his plate and napkins in the trash can Mama Hernandez kept under the counter, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled down at the tiny lady he’d grown to care a lot about over the last couple of years of their business dealings together. “So, you were able to survive the lunch rush without me?”

  He’d texted her earlier, asking if she was still working and had enough steak for his favorite tacos. She’d kept the truck open for an extra thirty minutes just for him, and his stomach was blissfully happy about it. As soon as he’d arrived, she’d closed the truck for other business and had gone about making him the best dinner he could think of for a Tuesday evening.

  She snorted and continued wiping down the counters and cleaning up for the day. “It was nearly impossible, but Sofia tried her best to put her feet in your big shoes.”

  My big shoes? Why would she… Oh!

  He chuckled when he realized that was her take on “big shoes to fill.” That and her sarcasm about needing his help amused him. He knew full well that he was lacking in the skills it took to take care of her customers and that her daughter would have had no trouble handling any rush that came through. He always tried to lend a hand when he showed up and the truck was busy, which it was more often than not. But he often just did his best to help clean up, deal with the trash if it was full, bring them things they needed, and refill the ice box with drinks.

  He’d thought Mama was joking when she told him at the very beginning of their business dealings that Taco Tuesdays really were her busiest days. He found the fact that such a thing
could impact her business in that way so amusing. But he’d seen it proven on a weekly basis and usually tried to stop by to help out, occasionally bringing her extra food if she ran out during the lunch rush.

  They usually had their business meetings once a month, and this was not that day, so he’d really only stopped by to say hello, visit one of his favorite people, and grab one of his favorite meals on the way home after a long day. He gathered up the trash bag, tied it off, and did the same for the one outside, bringing it in so she could throw it in the dumpster at the commissary.

  “Gracias, mijo. You are good to me.”

  He smiled. “I could say the same about you. Where else can I get the world’s best steak tacos? Why don’t we run away together? We were obviously meant to be.”

  Her eyes were filled with mirth as she shooed him towards the door. “Go find someone else to flirt with. I’m much too old and set in my ways. You’re so handsome, mijo.” She patted his cheek. “With your thick, dark hair, your close-cropped beard, your tall athletic body, and what do they call them? Your warm bedroom eyes?”

  He chuckled. “My bedroom eyes? Listen to you. If you’re not careful all your compliments will give me a big head, Mama. You sure you don’t want to run away with me?”

  “Pfft. Come on. You know you’re the total package. You’ve got that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going. Not to mention your successful business. But the biggest issue? I don’t have the right parts.”