Single Dad's Christmas Present: A Dad's Best Friend Romance

by Amy Brent

  “You could be wearing a cardboard box, darling, and I’d still want to bend you over. What are you doing right now?”

  “Sitting on the couch in my sweat pants,” I said. “Sounds sexy, right?”

  “It is. Sweatpants are easy to get off.”

  I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot, even though I was completely alone. These were the times that I truly loved Cole—when he was relaxed and happy.

  “Do you want to come over here for the night?” Cole asked. “I can whip us up some dinner or order in. Whatever you like, darling.”

  A part of me was sorely tempted to put aside my stomach and exhaustion to just go see him, but the idea of driving to Cole’s penthouse drained what energy I had left. I also didn’t want to puke with Cole close by.

  “I’m actually not feeling good,” I said, rubbing at my flushed neck. “I think I stressed out a bit too much over Michael today. Plus, you’re starting to wear me out a bit.”

  “I’m wearing you out?” Cole repeated skeptically. “You’re kidding, right? I’m older than you.”

  I giggled. “I know. I just don’t feel very good. So maybe tomorrow. I think I just need some sleep.”

  “Then get some sleep if you really don’t feel good,” Cole said, his voice thick with concern now. “Call me if you need anything, but don’t worry about Michael. That’s taken care of.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we could have some breakfast in the city?”

  “If you’re feeling better, then I’m fine with that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  My stomach and head had other ideas throughout the night and early morning hours. It seemed like every hour my stomach had to empty itself of water, or just even dry heaving. Every inch of my body ached. Even my own head throbbed dully, no matter how much Tylenol I consumed.

  I managed to get in the shower shortly before 8:45 a.m. when Cole called to ask about breakfast.

  “You’re still not feeling good?” he asked, the concern even stronger than before now. “Maybe you should go to the doctor or something like that. I can drive you if you need.”

  I grimaced at the thought of puking in front of Cole. That was the main reason why I had declined seeing him the night before.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m just going to lay low this weekend until it passes. I’m sure it’s just some sort of flu bug going around. It’s that time of the year.”

  “I suppose you’re right. If you feel better, call me. I’ll be here in Manhattan all weekend.”

  The nausea didn’t lift. Saturday night, I slept on the floor of the bathroom while Sunday morning, I didn’t even bother showering. Something wasn’t right. I could feel a change somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. After assuring Cole that I didn’t need to see the doctor, I pulled up Google to type in my symptoms to see what came up for the stomach flu.

  “The stomach flu,” I read out loud, scrolling down the list. “Food poisoning, regular flu, early pregnancy—”

  I stopped at those two words. Pregnancy. Heart pounding, I read through the rest of the symptoms. Sickness. Headaches. A dull ache in the pelvis. I sank to the bathroom floor with a shaky breath.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, cradling my throbbing head. “It can’t be. I can’t be --”

  Cole never uses a condom.

  I gathered myself off the floor to grab my purse and keys. Sweeping my hair up into a messy bun, I didn’t even bother trying to look presentable. I hurried across the street to the corner convenience store to buy a three-pack pregnancy test.

  My fingers trembled as I tore the plastic open to pee on the stick like the instructions said to do. Setting the stick on the edge of the sink, I opened the bathroom window to suck in deep breaths to calm my queasy stomach.

  I couldn’t be pregnant. It wasn’t possible. It didn’t happen that fast.

  Seven minutes passed. I picked up the pregnancy stick staring down at the giant plus sign with a sinking stomach. Pregnant. I was pregnant with Cole Crayton’s baby.

  A torment of emotions washed over me as I sat down on the edge of the toilet to cry and laugh at the same time. This wasn’t happening. A part of me didn’t want to believe it, but that pregnancy stick proved it was real. I was pregnant with a baby. Cole’s baby.

  And now I would have to explain to him how it happened.

  I’m fucked. That was all I could think of when I texted Cole to tell him that I would be late coming into work Monday morning.

  Your stomach isn’t feeling any better? He texted with a frowny face.

  I texted back a puking face.

  Not yet. I’ll be in as soon as I see the doctor. Oh, and I might be pregnant, too.

  I deleted that last part of the sentence with a sigh. I had to tell Cole in person, but I needed to make sure through the doctor that I was actually pregnant.

  Which meant that I would need to tell Cole that I lied about the birth control pills. It hadn’t even occurred to me throughout the past few weeks that we needed to be on birth control. It was the last thing on my mind—getting pregnant.

  I chewed on the pad of my thumb nervously. I took the remaining two pregnancy sticks later in the afternoon. Pregnant. There was no doubt if there were three positive pregnancy tests.

  What now?

  The thought plagued me throughout Sunday night and the commute to the doctor’s office Monday morning. We were only a few weeks into a relationship, and Cole was already skittish enough about it. I filled out the paperwork in the crowded office before peeing in another cup in the small bathroom.

  It was the doctor who came in to congratulate me with a large smile.

  “It does appear from your blood work and urine test that you are pregnant,” he said. “Congratulations. You’re only a few weeks on, I’d say. Very early on in the pregnancy.”

  “Thank you,” I said numbly. “What do I do?”

  “One of the nurses here will explain everything to you,” he said, oblivious to what I was really asking. “Make sure to have your boyfriend fill out his side of the paperwork. We need a full history on him as well.”

  I took the paperwork and bottle of prenatal vitamins in my purse to work. I had no idea how I was going to get through the day without giving away what I knew to Cole. I didn’t want to tell him in the office.

  “Morning,” Cheryl said, and she frowned instantly when I looked up at her. “Oh, Vi. You still look sick. Why are you here?”

  “I need the paycheck,” I said. “I’ll be fine. The doctor gave me some medicine for nausea.”

  Which worked wonders thankfully. It just didn’t do a damn thing about the headaches.

  “What did the doctor say?” Cheryl asked, setting a glass of water down on my desk. “I hope it isn’t the flu. I would hate to have you here and getting everyone else sick if that was the case.”

  “He said it wasn’t the flu,” I said and sat down in my chair. “I’ll be fine. Where’s Mr. Crayton?”

  “He had a meeting at eight this morning,” Cheryl said. “He hasn’t returned since, so I’m assuming the meeting ran late. I’m sure he’ll be here soon, though.”

  “Right.”

  I glanced over to find Michael’s desk empty. A small part of me felt a stab of smugness to see his chair and desk empty. I know that Cole had moved him somewhere else for my comfort, but also because he didn’t want to look at Michael every single day.

  It helped a little knowing that Michael wouldn’t be watching our every move from now on. Not if he wanted to have a good job in the future once his internship at Crayton, Inc was over.

  I took a small sip of water to ease my nerves. Michael wasn’t the one I was worried about, though.

  My eyes caught sight of Cole coming through the elevators with a group of businessmen surrounding him. His dark hair, peppered with gray along the hairline, was slicked back as usual. He donned a much more casual outfit today. A pair of nice slacks and a loose white sleeved shirt that was rolled up t
o his elbows.

  Cole stopped briefly at my desk while the line of businessmen went into his office. He glanced at the bottle of nausea pills on my desk.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

  “Sort of,” I said. “They gave me something for my stomach.”

  “Good.” Concern lingered in his eyes for a moment, but he glanced in his office to where the group of men was waiting. “I have to wrap this meeting up. We’ll talk after that, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, even though my stomach threatened to get rid of everything all over again at the thought of telling Cole the truth.

  Chapter 19

  Cole

  Getting to talk to Violet alone didn’t happen for the rest of the morning or the afternoon. The day slipped by me quickly, meeting after meeting. I saw little of Violet who was either at her desk or helping Cheryl in the copy room.

  After spending an entire weekend alone, I was seriously reconsidering that no sex rule in my office during work hours. My cock was hard the majority of the day whenever I did manage a quick glimpse at Violet, but it was pent up tension. I already could imagine how great it would feel to finally release a load when I got Violet alone.

  And it wasn’t even just the amazing sex that I missed. I missed her company, too. I missed hearing her voice in the background of my day, or just being able to reach out and hold her hand.

  My heart constricted when the realization washed over me that my feelings were starting to shift into something different than sexual attraction. It was caring. I was falling in love with her—harder than I ever thought. Falling in love with Violet complicated everything, but I was utterly powerless to it at this point.

  I craved for privacy throughout my last meeting but forced myself to remain engaged. I couldn’t afford to let my thoughts stray anymore. It would have to be tonight since I didn’t have the chance to talk with her alone for more than thirty seconds in passing.

  The color in Violet’s cheeks was finally returning when I managed to swing by her desk without anyone to overhear our conversation. She looked up at me with a strange expression that I couldn’t quite decipher.

  “Are you feeling up to dinner tonight?” I asked quietly as I handed her a file to put away in the cabinet.

  Violet’s fingers brushed up against mine. It sent electric shocks up my arm, but to my surprise, she pulled away to open the cabinet.

  “Where do you want to eat at?” she asked.

  “My place,” I said and looked up to see Cheryl approaching from the printing and copying room. “I’ll text you the address. Are you sure that everything is okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Violet said, offering a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you for dinner tonight in a few hours.”

  I nodded in acknowledgment before taking the elevator down to the floor below to check on Michael. It took all my self-control to keep myself from smiling when I caught sight of his sour glare through the cramped office I had placed him in to be supervised. He shot me a dirty glare before twisting around in his chair to face his computer.

  Chuckling, I talked with employees in HR before heading back up to the top floor to get ready for the end of the day. Violet’s desk was already empty when I walked by to find Cheryl packing up as well.

  “That poor thing needs to take some time away from here,” Cheryl told me, slipping on the strap of her purse. “She’s so young, Cole. Twenty-two years old, and she’s about to have a nervous breakdown before either one of us.”

  “Did she say anything to you about what was going on with her stomach? I know she was sick all weekend and—”

  “How did you know that she was sick all weekend?” Cheryl asked.

  I clicked my jaw shut when I realized what I had let slip out. Cheryl gave me a long and penetrating look, but before she could put the pieces together, I rushed out, “She called me this morning to ask if it would be all right to be late for work. She told me that she had been sick all weekend.”

  “Right,” Cheryl said slowly. “Is there something that I need to know, Mr. Crayton?”

  “Nothing,” I replied smoothly. “Have a nice evening, Cheryl.”

  I didn’t give her the chance to reply. I hurried across the office floor to retreat into my own office. Packing everything up, I called down to the Italian restaurant I knew that Violet would enjoy. Dinner would be delivered by six. Perfect. I texted Violet the directions to my penthouse next.

  Use the service elevator. There are media that hangs around the building sometimes.

  Violet texted back quickly.

  Got it. I’ll see you in a few hours.

  I resisted the urge to tell her not to even bother putting on any underwear. She wasn’t going to be wearing them for very long, given the last time I had any sort of release was last Friday.

  Calm it down. She hasn’t been feeling well.

  I sucked in a deep breath to calm the swell of lust building in me. I stopped by a small floral stand five minutes away from my suite to purchase some flowers before finding a swarm of media people in front of the building doors. Sighing, I tucked the flowers beneath my blazer to hide them from view. That was the last thing I wanted to see in the papers.

  Cole Crayton buys a bouquet of flowers for a new woman?

  Then, Gloria would be calling out of curiosity on who the new mystery woman was. I ignored the questions tossed at my back as I entered through the lobby doors to take the elevator up to my suite.

  The entire place was spotless and clean as usual, thanks to my housemaids who knew to keep it clean for me. I wasn’t a messy person by any means, but I hated clutter and dust. They were always good about coming first thing in the morning to clean up, run errands, pick up my dry cleaning, and then disappear by the time I arrived home. They knew how much I valued my privacy, too.

  I took a cold shower to resist the urge of easing the ache in my groin. Not when I knew that Violet would be coming over to help me with the ache. She arrived shortly before six, dressed in a modest black skirt that hugged her hips tightly and a polka dot blouse that dipped low on her breasts. Her blonde hair fell about her shoulders in gentle curves while she smelt of vanilla and soap.

  “Hi, beautiful,” I said and pulled her in from the elevator.

  She responded eagerly to my kiss when I swept her up in my arms. She pulled back after a few minutes to take a deep breath.

  “I missed you this weekend,” she said, quietly. “I missed all day today, too.”

  I couldn’t place it, but there was something different about Violet that I couldn’t quite place. She looked jittery, even a bit pale again.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, rubbing her shoulders in concern. “Are you not feeling well again?”

  Violet shook her head as a smile spread across her face. “No, those pills help me feel better. You said we were going to dinner?”

  “Well, dinner will be here shortly. I ordered some Italian food for us at a place that I like. They have good garlic bread.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Violet said, and she looked around the living room with wide eyes. “I never thought your penthouse was this big. You can’t tell how big it is from the ground.”

  “I own this entire floor,” I told her with a smile. “My ex-wife thought it was a waste of money, but it was just cheaper to buy the place than rent out during the week when I was in the city doing business.”

  “That makes sense. Any famous celebrities that live here, too?”

  I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. “Eh, I don’t know. I don’t really talk with my neighbors.”

  “You could have Brad Pitt living beneath you,” Violet said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “How can you not know who your neighbors are?”

  “I make more money than most of them,” I said, laughing. “That’s why I have the very top floor to myself.”

  The food arrived twenty minutes later. We sat together in the small kitchen nook, eating spaghetti and garlic bread as we talk
ed about anything that came to mind. It amazed me how easy it was to talk to Violet without looking at her as Alan Summer’s daughter. I was looking at her as Violet Summers, a young woman who had a life and mind of her own.

  It brought a smile to my face when Violet looked up at me with a bit of spaghetti sauce on the corner of her lips. Her eyes were bright with joy when she caught my stare.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking about what you told me,” I said, wiping away the sauce with the pad of my thumb. “About letting this relationship carry on without worry about what others think?”

  Violet lowered her fork to her plate. That same apprehensive look crossed her face again.

  “Right,” she said. “I have to tell you something first though, Cole, before you continue.” She looked down at her lap nervously. “There’s something that we need to talk about.”

  Those words felt like a punch to my face. Alarm bells started to ring in my head when Violet shifted nervously in her seat next to me. Those words never meant anything good, and I felt defenses soaring up to protect myself from whatever Violet was about to say.

  “What is it?” I asked cautiously. “Is it something bad?”

  Violet shrugged her shoulders. “It depends on how you look at it, I suppose. I’m not looking at it as a bad thing, so hopefully, you won’t look at it as a bad thing.”