Daisy Does It All (Clover Park, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series)

by Kylie Gilmore

  Contents

  Daisy Does It All

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Bad Taste in Men: Excerpt

  The Clover Park Series

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Daisy Does It All

  The Clover Park Series, Book 2

  © 2014 Kylie Gilmore

  kylie@kyliegilmore.com

  KylieGilmore.com

  Kylie on Facebook

  Kylie on Twitter

  Kylie on Goodreads

  Sign up for Kylie’s Newsletter

  Reality is overrated…

  Exhausted single mom Daisy Garner is shocked when her blog about life with Darling Husband and Baby Delight in their charming Victorian home brings a national talk show to her door.

  Amazing! Except she made the whole thing up.

  Panic! Now she needs to borrow a Victorian house and find a man to play her fake husband on TV.

  Travis O'Hare steps up for the role, as long as she'll marry him for real. He wants their son to have the stable home life Travis never had.

  But before the wedding can happen, Travis and Daisy have to get through the interview with a ratings hungry host and a slick producer with ties to Daisy's troubled past. When a winter storm traps them all, it begs the question: can two people pretending at love finally discover the real thing?

  Chapter One

  The blog post that went viral…

  Daisy Does It All

  Mom, wife, domestic diva

  Valentine’s Day with Baby

  I know what you’re thinking, Valentine’s Day with a baby in tow? Not romantic. But I’m here to tell you it can be. Here’s what Darling Husband and I have planned for our very special first Valentine’s Day with Baby Delight. Let me set the scene at our charming Victorian home: fresh red roses in a crystal vase on the foyer table, a pink paper heart chain hanging from the fireplace mantel, and the scent of cinnamon in the air. (No-bake solution: simply boil some hot water and drop cinnamon sticks in for the scent that’s a proven aphrodisiac for men.) I’m wearing a little red dress—cue dramatic music—that I picked up on sale at Target. Ladies, I’m telling you, you don’t have to spend a lot to look good. The flowing A-line covers any pregnancy weight that might be lingering, but Darling Husband never notices my waistline because his eyes are fixed up top, thanks to a red lace push-up bra and peek-a-boo draping neckline. Now you see them, now you don’t.

  Okay, back to baby. Yes, your adorable baby can get into the spirit of the day. For Baby Delight, I knitted him these darling heart booties. I also found an adorable red long-sleeve onesie with an embroidered heart, added matching red leggings, and voila! Baby Delight is our chubby-cheeked Cupid. Because isn’t the beautiful child you have together—with all your love, hopes, and dreams attached—the best thing about marriage? I say yes.

  Now on to the big day. This year it’s on a Sunday, so we can celebrate all day. First, we’ll visit a nearby horse farm for a family sleigh ride. (If you don’t have a horse farm nearby, take a drive through a beautiful area. Baby might even fall asleep, leaving time for intimate conversation.) Then on to my parents’ restaurant for a Valentine’s Day brunch with heart-shaped waffles, eggs, and bacon. Bring along baby’s homemade organic pureed food. Or let baby try some scrambled eggs if he/she is old enough. Of course, you can make a delicious brunch at home too. Cooking for your family is another way to say I love you.

  Back home, I’ll light some candles, put on soft jazz (or whatever silky, slow tunes make you feel loose), and Darling Husband and I will slow dance with our little Cupid until he falls asleep for his afternoon nap (the baby, not the husband, LOL). Tuck baby into his crib, then it’s just me and Darling Husband, holding each other in the living room by very flattering candlelight, surrounded by roses, hearts, and the scent of cinnamon. Now this is important: just as your sweetie starts to get ideas about taking this upstairs, make him hold that thought. Anticipation is the best part.

  No afternoon delight here, folks.

  To distract him, tell him you have a surprise for him. He must sit, eyes closed, waiting for your gift. Which is…lacy, racy, black lingerie.

  For you, of course.

  But also for him. And his pleasure.

  Hopefully, Darling Husband will take the hint and give you his gift. I’ll keep you posted on that, though I did find a Bermuda travel brochure tucked away in the computer desk!

  When Baby Delight wakes from his afternoon nap, we’ll bundle him up and visit the relatives. Have I mentioned the positively frigid winter we’ve had in Connecticut this year? Anyway, our little Cupid will give each of them a fresh-baked heart cookie wrapped with pink ribbon. Then it’s time for a family dinner back home, just the three of us with Chinese takeout. Darling Husband won’t let me cook on Valentine’s Day. He wants me well rested for…other activities. And, ladies, this is the best part, please do share this with your Darling Husbands—he takes over baby duty for the night. I’m talking bath, pajamas, lullaby, tucked in for the night. Is there anything that melts your heart more than seeing your husband lovingly care for your child?

  Finally, Baby Delight is asleep. And I’m in my bed. Waiting in black lace. It’s not quite our bedtime, and that’s okay, ’cuz this could take a while. Fade to black, Darlings. Some things are private.

  XOXO!

  Daisy

  Daisy Garner hit Post on her blog and stood, stretching her sore back, still aching from serving customers during her long dinner shift at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill. She shuffled to the kitchen in her thick wool socks, sweatpants, and ancient NYU sweatshirt, and surveyed the mess. The tiny one-bedroom apartment had once been her sister Liz’s place. Back then, the kitchen, hell, the whole place, was neat and sparkling clean. Now—sink full of dishes, bottle sterilizer that needed to be refilled, garbage can overflowing with takeout containers and an old pizza box. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the kitchen, she promised herself for the zillionth time.

  She poured a glass of water as quietly as she could, tilting the glass so the flow of water was silent, desperate not to wake her fussy six-month-old son. Bryce of the power lungs was blessedly sleeping. She just hoped he slept long enough for her to stretch out on the sofa and watch at least one rerun of Law & Order: SVU. She turned for the sofa.

  WAAAAHHHH!!!!!

  Her milk released, soaking the front of her sweatshirt. Dammit.

  “I’m coming,” she muttered.

  Too bad there wasn’t any Darling Husband in the picture to take baby duty. Just me, myself, and my imagination. Though she actually did have Valentine’s plans. She was going to the first annual Jorge Chavez Valentine’s Day Dance at his dance studio. Jorge w
as practically family. He’d recently married Travis O’Hare’s grandmother, Maggie. Trav was Bryce’s father. And Trav’s brother, Ryan, was engaged to Daisy’s younger sister, Liz. So, family, in a tangled web of relationships.

  Daisy was happy for Liz and Maggie in their giddy, slightly nauseating lovey-dovey states, but for herself, she didn’t have the energy for a relationship on top of being a mom. She couldn’t even make this little man happy; she certainly didn’t want to work on making a full-grown man happy. She scooped up her red-faced son, settled into the cushioned glider with a few sweaters thrown over the back, and began to nurse. He sucked vigorously as if he hadn’t just nursed two hours ago.

  She sighed. At thirty-three, she really should have her life in order. The fact that she was still deep, deep in debt was never far from her thoughts. That’s what she was working on. The late nights of interrupted sleep combined with long shifts waitressing at her parents’ restaurant were exhausting. Working for her parents wasn’t all ice-cream-with-a-cherry-on-top either. On the plus side, they bent over backwards to be flexible with her schedule. Her mom even took care of Bryce a few days a week while Daisy worked. (She had a babysitter for the other days.) On the minus side, they treated her like a screwed-up flake that needed to be taken care of. She couldn’t blame them. Classic example of her many screw-ups: Fifteen-year-old Daisy standing on the doorstep with Police Chief Bailey at her side.

  Her dad had answered the door. He took one look at Daisy in her usual outfit—oversized sweater, ripped jeans, and combat boots—and shook his head. “Again?”

  Her mom appeared behind him and asked tiredly, “What’d she do this time?”

  Daisy had stared at the officer’s handcuffs. She knew she’d really screwed up this time. She’d probably be grounded forever. Never allowed out of her room. Put on bread and water.

  Chief Bailey had said she could’ve been put in jail. A girl named Daisy would surely be someone’s bitch within minutes. She shuddered.

  The police officer hitched his thumb in the direction of her parents’ empty driveway. “She took your car out for a spin.” He enumerated her offenses on each finger. “Driving without a license, speeding, reckless endangerment.” He put his hands on his hips and gave her a hard look. She winced under his harsh scrutiny. “Tell you the truth, she was easy to spot. She had the hazards going, the left blinker on, wipers on, trunk popped open, and a flat tire.”

  The flat tire had happened when she’d swerved to miss a squirrel and ended up on the sidewalk running over a broken beer bottle instead. She’d immediately swerved back to the road and pressed what she thought was the hazard lights and somehow popped the trunk open. The rest of the stuff had turned on while she looked for the button to close the trunk.

  “Dorothy Marie Garner, what were you thinking?” her mom demanded.

  Daisy groaned at the full-name treatment. She hated her real name, a tribute to a great-grandmother she’d never met. Her dad had nicknamed her Daisy as a kid because he’d said she was always bright and sunny like a daisy.

  Her mom continued. “You could’ve been killed or hurt someone. You don’t even know how to drive! I can’t even wrap my head around this. It’s just wrong in so many ways. Have I taught you nothing about right or wrong?”

  Daisy remained silent at the officer’s side. It was almost better to stand with the chief than to go inside and face her parents.

  “The car was towed to the impound lot,” Chief Bailey said. “You need a lift to pick it up?”

  “No, my car is still in the garage,” her dad said. “Thanks.”

  Chief Bailey rocked on his heels. “Look, this is her first offense with the car, so I’m leaving her punishment up to you, but if it happens again, there will be penalties.”

  “Oh, she will be punished,” her mom said. “I’m sorry you had to deal with her. It’ll never happen again.”

  Her dad looked at her and shook his head in disappointment. He was forever shaking his head at her. “Go inside, Daisy.”

  She’d bolted to her room, avoiding her parents, but they’d come in to talk a few minutes later.

  “Turn off that music,” her dad said. “Now.”

  She turned off Eminem and sat on the edge of her bed, playing with the frayed edges of her jeans, making the hole in the knee bigger.

  Her parents looked at her, disappointment clear in their eyes.

  “First of all, you’re grounded,” her dad said.

  “For three months,” her mom put in.

  “Three months!” Daisy cried. “That’s insane! I can’t stay home for three months. I’ll die!”

  “We’ve been very patient with you over the years,” her mom said. “But it’s always something with you. If you show up here with a police officer at your side one more time, I’m just going to let them throw the book at you.”

  “You’d let them put me in jail?” she asked, horrified.

  “You’d go to juvenile detention,” her dad said.

  Daisy pounded a fist on the mattress. “I can’t believe you’d sell me out like that!”

  “We’re afraid it’s the only way you’ll learn,” her mom said solemnly.

  In the three months she’d been grounded, she managed to sneak out and drive their car five more times. She craved speed, the thrill of danger, the freedom of the open road. She’d been caught speeding twice, but no juvie. When push came to shove, her parents just couldn’t throw her to the wolves, though they grew weary of dealing with her. She felt the weight of their mistrust and their resigned expectation of her failures.

  She spent the rest of her high school years hanging out with older, bad boys—they had attitude, liquor, and a driver’s license. And they never judged her.

  But that was all before Bryce. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t listening to impulse and seeking the next adventure; she was planning ahead, doing everything she could to ensure a stable bright future for her demanding son. She loved the little screamer.

  She stroked her son’s sweaty wisps of blond hair. Did she miss living in the city? (New York City being the only city worth mentioning in this part of Connecticut.) Traveling wherever the wind took her? Running on pure instinct, jumping with both feet into the new and exciting? Yes. But she’d resigned herself to her new life back home in Clover Park and was doing her best to make it fit. She could change. Grow up. Be the daughter her parents always wanted her to be. Be the mom her son deserved.

  It didn’t help that every struggle she had with Bryce, her mom had a similar story that featured her own motherly accomplishments and successful solutions to everyday problems. Baby crying? Rock them with a lullaby. (Never worked for Daisy.) Colic? Put them on your lap and rub their back. (Nope.) Won’t take a nap? Play classical music in a dimly lit room. (Double nope). Next to her mom, Daisy felt like the most inadequate, fumbling mess of a mother. And her mom had done it all—running Garner’s with Daisy’s dad and still making time to bake cookies, sew Halloween costumes, and dress Daisy and her sister in cute outfits with coordinating ribbons in their pigtails.

  Was it any wonder in the face of such perfect motherhood that Daisy had needed some fantasy accomplishments of her own?

  The blog had started as a way to share her new experiences as a mom with other moms—dressing up her baby, soothing baby (or not), celebrating firsts. But the more her perfect mom grated on her nerves, the more perfect her life became on the blog. Everything was wonderful in her fantasy world—a charming house, a devoted husband, a baby who didn’t scream all the time.

  And thousands of blog followers loved her fantasy life.

  Chapter Two

  “Daisy Garner, will you marry me?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Not this again. Travis O’Hare down on bended knee, in a suit no less, holding up a diamond ring. Of course he would do this to her at the Valentine’s Day dance in front of all of their family and friends.

  Heat crept up her neck. “Get up,” she his
sed.

  “Not until you answer.” His hazel eyes, usually dancing with good humor, were dead serious and locked on hers.

  She sighed. Tango music carried on in the background, but no one was dancing. Her parents, Trav’s brother Shane, his grandmother Maggie, Jorge, Jorge’s daughters, and all of their friends stared, waiting for her to say yes. Too bad her sister Liz had left early with Ryan. She would’ve taken Daisy’s side.

  “No,” Daisy said, clearly and loudly enough for all to hear. She turned to face her audience. “Dance, people, nothing to see here.” She turned to Trav. “You can’t peer-pressure me into a marriage.”

  He rose from bended knee in one smooth gesture. The man was all lean, sinewy muscle, thanks to his job. He was a landscape architect, but didn’t hesitate to jump in and do the hard manual labor of shaping the landscape.

  “Daze, come on.” Trav took her hand, and a familiar warmth shot up her arm. She ignored it and pulled her hand from his. The days of falling headlong into lust were done and gone.

  “I have to check on Bryce.”

  She turned away, and he stepped in front of her. Too close. His piercing eyes gazed into her own. She blinked. It was like he was trying to look into her soul.

  “He’s fine,” Trav said. “Your mom’s got him.”

  She looked over to where her mom was lifting Bryce into the air while he let out adorable squeals of delight. He never laughed like that for Daisy. She turned back to Trav. “Okay, fine. Listen up. This is the third time you’ve proposed. I don’t want to marry you. Please stop asking. You’re embarrassing us both.”

  His face flushed red. She hadn’t meant to be harsh, but come on. She stepped to the side to pass him, and he stepped with her. She stepped the other way. He stepped with her again and grinned.

  She gave him a little shove. “Stop it.”

  His eyes danced with mischief, his usual humor back. “We’re dancing.”

  She bit back a smile. He did make her laugh. She just didn’t want to encourage him.

  She forced a straight face. “No, we’re not. I’m trying to walk, and you’re in my way.”