by Kaylee, Katy
Ex Boyfriend’s Dad
The Irresistible Daddies Book 3
Katy Kaylee
Copyright © 2019 by Katy Kaylee
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.
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Contents
Description
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Forbidden Dad (Excerpt)
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Also by Katy Kaylee
Description
What do you do when you are seeking an escape via a dating site and the man you meet…
Well, he’s your ex boyfriend’s dad!
In my defense, I did not know it.
I just fell for his… charm…and… his toned abs, and s$xy eyes, and strong arms...
I could go on and on.
Everything’s working out well until my ex shows up…again.
But this time, there are secrets and repercussions.
And a baby too.
OMG…how am I going to handle so much!
Prologue
Christina
Tears began to fall from my eyes. Each one landed on my stained pillow. Every tear was heavier and saltier than the one before. I tried my best to hold each one back. Somehow more tears fell helplessly from my eyes. I restlessly tossed back and forth inside my bed of crumpled sheets and cookie crumbs. The sound of my heart breaking pierced my eardrums. The tone of my mother’s stern voice playing loudly inside my head repeated, “Christina, you’re making a big mistake with your life. You’re going to live to regret it, trust me.”
I hated to admit it that my mother was right. I was a fool to trust and believe in all the dreams Macon sold me about our life together. He promised me we could make it out on our own in the world. Be a power couple and travel the world as all our friends envied us from their pathetic day jobs. I loved Macon! Perhaps I loved his promised dreams more.
His boyish good looks, dazzlingly blue eyes, washboard abs, dimpled chin, deep baritone, edgy bad-boy persona, and wanderlust attitude about life set my loins on fire. Macon was everything I wasn’t in a lot of ways. I was soft-spoken and quirky at times. Macon was boisterous and assertive when he wanted to be. I could fall asleep easily inside his arms as his soft lips caressed mine. Macon believed in me. He saw something inside of me that I sometimes didn’t see within myself. He was everything I wanted in a partner, lover, and a friend. No other man could ever love me as deeply and passionately as Macon has in my life. That’s why I promised to save myself for him on our wedding night. I knew in my heart that Macon was the one for me. Period.
I promised myself that I would go wherever his heart desired in this world. If we were together, we could do anything. The world was truly ours, and nothing or no one could stop us. Except Macon.
Shortly after I finished college, Macon and I moved into a trailer home. It was supposed to be fun and adventurous.
“This is awesome,” he proclaimed and I looked at the retro-era trailer parked at the end of an alley near the docks with doubt.
“You sure? Looks sort of dismal and depressing.”
He pulled me to him. “Not when we get in the bed,” he promised with a wink. “How much space does a bed need?”
Naturally, it was what he wanted, so I fell in with the plan. At the time the trailer seemed like a good idea. We planned to save money for a place and a car. During the day, I put in applications at youth developmental centers as a counselor. I knew Milwaukee would be a great place for me to start my career and use my psychology degree. It was rough in the beginning, especially for Macon. I’d come home dragging after a day of scouring the city for an appropriate job. As soon as I’d open the door to the trailer, I knew what I’d find. I could hear the gun blasts and annoying dance club music in the background from one of his favorite video games.
“Hi!” I tried to remain cheerful, even though I knew where things were headed; the same place as every other day.
Macon quickly waved a hand and it flashed back to the controller as if it operated his bodily functions. “Any luck?” he’d call out if I happened to arrive as he waited for the game to advance a level.
“Did I get any phone calls?”
“Nope.”
“Then I guess not.” We shared one cell phone between us—mine. “How about you?”
“Huh? Oh, didn’t feel up to getting out today. Maybe tomorrow,” he’d bribe me to not give him a hard time. I’d heard it so many times, it had become as normal as, “Would you pass the salt?”
“Oh, really? This place is a disaster, Macon. There’s nothing to eat; the cupboard is literally bare! You can’t even shut the refrigerator door.” I grabbed a bag of cookies I’d squirreled away at the back of the lowest shelf in the kitchen. I knew Macon would never find them. He wouldn’t waste the energy to stoop. Lugging the bag, along with a glass of water, I settled onto the end of the sofa where he was playing his games.
Macon was darting sidelong looks at me as he played. “Where’d you get those?”
“Had them.”
“Are there more?”
“Nope.”
“Share? You’ll get fat.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll have better luck finding a job.” I knew he hated when I ate cookies. I smacked them loudly, slurping the water down after each one.
“You’re being a bitch,” he commented with rancor. I flew off the sofa with the last cookie in hand and getting down into his face, I popped it into my mouth. He tried to grab it away, but dropped the controller and cursed. I took advantage of the moment to walk around him and head for the bedroom, such as it was. I began stuffing things in a bag.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he interrogated me.
“Leaving you.”
“Cool, but you should probably know that the trailer rent renewal notice came in the mail yesterday. I signed your name to renew and mailed it back. Looks like you’re stuck here for another year.”
I glared for long moments at him and then shoved him aside as I walked to the front part of the trailer where he kept his cycle, a gift from his father. Pulling the only butcher knife we owned from its place in the drawer, I madly stabbed both tires.
Macon turned and began unplugging his game console, throwing it into a plastic grocery bag. He shouldered the bike and left on foot down the alley.
At first, I felt the rush of triumph. Then came the realization that I was alone again and had no way to support myself. I was always doing odd jobs that would pay enough for maybe one bill. No matter how many applications I completed, my phone was not ringing. At the first sight of trouble, things between Macon and me had begun to change significantly. Something as small as taking out the trash led to an argument. Some days we’d go to bed mad and then tried again the next day. But, somehow after a while, the flame that Macon and I o
nce had for each other gradually went out. After he’d left, I’d cleaned out what he hadn’t taken with him from his drawer. I found a picture of a man about our age, longish hair, one earring and an inscription on the back. “To Macon, Love Always, Matt.” The photo was dog-eared and crusty. I sniffed it and it smelled of cum. That answered the reason Macon had paid little attention to me once he’d moved into the trailer. On one side I was crushed; but on the other, I was relieved that I’d discovered the truth.
I’d always tried to have a positive attitude about most things. But Macon always complained that I was nagging and being unappreciative of all the things he did. His idea of picking up was stacking his Marvel comics and wiping down his keyboard with alcohol to clean the pizza grease from its keys. He didn’t understand that I wasn’t his mother. He just didn’t understand being an adult in general. At some point, we began to become less than lovers and more like roommates.
Finally, Macon was gone. He’d moved on to an “easier” life somewhere and I was left with the full load of bills, and still no job. I felt overwhelmed and alone. Every thought in my mind led to a problem with no solutions. A part of me wanted to go back home to my parent’s house and deal with the backlash of my mistakes. Meanwhile, the other part of me, the part of me that I loved the most wanted to keep fighting and believing. I knew my parents loved me and wanted the best for me. But I felt like I needed to figure it out on my own first. I grieved for a full day, baking cookies—and eating them. Then the dough was gone, in both senses of the word and I had to find life again, on my own.
The alarm on my cell phone began to chime. Tempted to hit the snooze button, I crawled out of bed. I stepped over dingy clothes in a pile on the floor, stale chips, and a pair of my running shoes from college. Everywhere I turned inside the tiny trailer, I was reminded of just how disgusting and pathetic my life was that day. I did my best to block out the horrors of my living arrangement and stumbled inside the bathroom. The chilly toilet seat greeted my backside as my chipped toenail polish stared back at me. With only half a roll of tissue left in the trailer, I ripped off a few sheets and flushed. I pushed my long blonde strands from my face and stared at my reflection in the grimy mirror. I splashed some lukewarm water across my face and dried my eyes with the back of my hand. My freckled cheeks and sparkly blue eyes gleamed in the bathroom lights. My father’s chin and thin pink lips caused me to laugh on the inside. No matter how much older I became, my father’s facial features would always be more distinct to me. My charming eyes and long blonde tresses were all my mother. I saw a glimmer of my former self staring back at me. I smiled confidently knowing that everything will be okay. Sooner or later, everything would be okay.
It was 10 a.m. I’d set my alarm as a reminder to get up out of bed before noon. Being inside the trailer every day was depressing and causing me to wallow too deeply inside my thoughts. The stench of old food and sweat were permeating the air. I couldn’t afford to buy any cleaning products with the little money in my account. I had a choice to either open a window to waft away the smell, or risk over-drafting my bank again. I cracked a window and slipped inside of a pair of gray sweat pants. With my favorite oversized tee-shirt comforting me, I picked up the broom and mop and started cleaning the trailer. I wanted to rid the space of any and everything that reminded me of Macon. I was finally ready to start over fresh. One by one, I filled the trash bags with garbage and tossed them out of the front door.
Within an hour, the trailer was half empty and sparse. Yet, it felt like a new beginning to create the life I wanted on my terms. That needed to start with a paycheck. With my hair in a low hanging ponytail and sneakers, I walked a few miles up the street from the trailer to the local coffee shop. With my laptop across my shoulders in a knapsack, I needed to borrow the wi-fi for my job search. I thought a change of scenery and other people would keep my spirits lifted. I knew I could probably only afford a bagel and small coffee. I stood patiently in the back of the line browsing the coffee shop.
There were men and women of all ages buzzing from the morning coffee. Some of them looked like college graduates chasing the job market with as much gusto as an Uber driver. While others were waiting anxiously for a business meeting that could lead to more opportunities. I fell somewhere at the end of the totem pole. I considered myself to be a neighborhood slum looking for a good bone and a leg to stand on.
I rubbed my debit card in my hand, nervously. I got used to the familiar feeling of not having hardly any money available and my card publicly declining. Today was going well. I just prayed silently that it would continue to do so. By the time it was my turn to order, the coffee shop was filling up quickly with patrons. A million conversations were going all at once, elevator pop music in the background, the sound of machines whirring, and the door chiming as people entered and exited every minute. My heart began to race nervously as the perky cashier greeted me with a smile.
“Welcome to Bumba Coffee! What can I get for you today?”I stared back at the dark, brown-eyed brunette with pearly white teeth. She looked all of twenty-two as her olive skin glowed in the fluorescent lights. Her bubbly personality caught me by surprise. She just smiled at me as I read her bold printed name tag that read “Amber.”
“Hi,” I uttered from the back of my throat.
Amber blinked continuously as her moist pink lips and smile flashed endlessly. Her petite frame and manicured nails reminded me of a girl I used to know in college. Her name was Sabrina. We’d shared a few classes together and formed a friendship over noodles and hot sauce. That was until she discovered she was six weeks pregnant and decided to move back home. Amber waited patiently as I browsed the extensive menu hanging overhead. Everything was either too hard to pronounce or too expensive for my budget. I squinted my eyes and studied the menu longer just to look like I had the budget for options. Just as I was about to make a choice, I heard someone clearing their throat and sucking their teeth. I took the hint and ordered quickly.
“One small coffee and bagel coming up. Will that complete your order today?” Amber smiled.
I nodded and passed her my debit card. Amber swiped my card swiftly, and I took a deep breath. I crossed my right hand and prayed that the transaction was approved. Within a minute, I could exhale, and Amber passed me a receipt and pointed to the pick-up area.
“Have a great day! “Amber bellowed.
I glanced over my shoulder and tossed her a warm smile. Somehow that brief interaction with Amber made my day. I grabbed my lukewarm coffee and bagel from the counter and found a seat. Unfortunately, the seat I wanted near the window was occupied by a guy and his belongings. I opted for a middle seat near the door, occupied by a young Asian girl. I waved politely and gestured to join her in the empty seat. She tossed me a thumbs-up quickly as she bobbled her head inside her headphones and darted her eyes back to her laptop. I smiled graciously as I propped up my laptop and comfortably placed my bagel on the table.
I was thirty minutes into my job search when I looked up to see the Asian beauty had left the coffee shop, without so much as a “goodbye” or “have a nice day.” I glanced and tossed a crooked smile to a teenage wannabe heartthrob sitting sideways in the chair laughing at his phone. His oversized headphones, tight black jeans, edgy graphic tee shirt, and neon sneakers gave me all of eighteen and moody. He reminded me of my kid cousin, Ralphie, who was always glued to YouTube and social media.
The pubescent-looking stranger rolled his eyes back at me. I shrugged my shoulders and took the hint he was not in the mood to be friendly. I minded my business and finished completing my application. My coffee was nearly gone, and my half-eaten bagel was almost stale. Before long, my battery was about to die, and my charger was at home in the nightstand. I sipped the last of my coffee and chucked the bagel into the trash. I closed my laptop and made a quick beeline to the bathroom. I held my breath and scurried out faster than I went inside. Just as I was about to walk out the door, I noticed the bulletin on the wall. Besides the usual a
ds, party options, and service promotions, I focused my eyes on the bright yellow flyer with a silhouette of a couple holding hands. Maybe the hopeless and cheesy romantic inside of me stirred awake from its slumber. Somehow the idea of meeting someone new appealed to me. Not for a romantic relationship, though. Preferably someone with a good-paying job that could help contribute to some bills. My back was literally against a wall, and I was out of options. Within a matter of minutes, I downloaded the app and created a profile on the walk back to the trailer.
Two weeks later.
Good morning beautiful
Morning! I can’t wait to see you today! We have reservations at Skytop Restaurant for 7.
Perfect! I’ve heard great things about the restaurant, can’t wait!
Enjoy your day, and I’ll see you later this evening
U do the same
His was name was Jackson Miller. Jackson, a thirty-something-year-old man with a passion for baseball, cigars, and fast cars. He’d moved from El Paso, Texas after graduating college with a master’s degree in communication. A few of his friends moved out west to Silicon Valley to launch their tech companies. Jackson found his fortune in creating a wealthy consulting firm for the rich and wealthy of Milwaukee. We’d matched on the online dating site, Mingle Milwaukee. I began to lose hope after being on the site for a while and no luck. Most guys just wanted to hookup. The girls were looking for a free meal ticket. I counted down the days of giving up on the app when I had matched with Jackson.