The Daddy issue

by Melissa Beck

  In the kitchen, she quickly checked outside, to see if Daniel's SUV was still in the yard. It was.

  He's in this house, just a door away from you.

  Desire swept through her. Her nipples hardened against her T-shirt as other parts tingled with need.

  She moved into the living room, paced around, and then sat and stewed again. She was angry with him for caring about them, for opening himself to them, and then leaving. Yet all along, she'd known he'd go. Because of that, she'd kept a tiny part of her heart safe from him. Until now. Now she knew in her heart that he loved Amy. Now she also acknowledged how, for a long time, she'd wanted to say, “See, Amy? Your father is smart and he's handsome and he's a hard worker.” Now that she really knew him well, she could add that he was kind-hearted.

  She wanted to ask him if he would stay. But what good would it do? She couldn't stop him from going. And that was what she couldn't stand. Anything was better. Lust. Friendship. Love. She needed to be left with something from Daniel, now that her feelings had run the gamut.

  Her stupid wayward heart drove her to the door and made her pad in her slippers to Daniel's side, and forced her to knock on his door. She tapped. He probably wouldn't hear. She could turn and go, before she embarrassed herself and threw all caution to the wind for another night of bliss.

  The door flew open and he stood there, in jeans, barefoot and bare-chested, his sculpted jaw softened by a scruff of evening beard. He stared at her, his dark-eyed gaze so intent on her that desire raced through her, pricking her skin with its force.

  She glanced again at his tanned chest, at the path of dark hair spread across his upper body and then descending down his flat abdominal muscles.

  Her already tightened throat went dry.

  He didn't say anything. He just moved away from the doorway, and she stepped inside.

  He didn't look at her slippers, her old shirt or her shorts. His eyes never left hers.

  It was so quiet, she could hear her heart pounding, thumping hard inside her.

  "I-,” she began. “I wanted—"

  But he cut her words off, reaching and taking her in his arms. “It's okay,” he murmured against her hair.

  She closed her eyes. She let him hold her, let herself melt into his hard, muscular body, enjoying the gentle way he stroked her back, loving the rough scrub of his jeans against her bare legs. She inhaled the scent of soap on his bare skin, and his chest hair tickled her nose. Then she pushed away, and fisted her hands and pummeled him lightly. “Why?” she groaned. “Why'd you have to come here?"

  He pulled her to his chest again, and held her. “Don't be this way. Not now. Our time is too short."

  His heart beat strong and fast where her cheek rested against his chest. She raised her head, tilting her chin up. Eyes closed, she said, “Kiss me, then. Say goodbye."

  He didn't kiss her right away. She grew uncomfortable, and opened her eyes, to find his dark gaze on her. Searching hers. What was he looking for? He knew her feelings.

  And then his mouth lowered to hers. It was a gentle, slow torture. Nibbles at first. Tastes that tantalized her and made her sigh and press against him.

  He took his time, placing a hand along the column of her neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth against her nape and into her hair as his lips played against hers.

  She opened her mouth, to let him know she wanted more. But he moved away from her lips, and placed his hands on both sides of her face, and kissed first one cheek, and then her nose, and her other cheek.

  "I want this to last,” he said, staring at her mouth. “I want you to know I'll remember every detail of this time forever."

  And before she could think on his words, he pressed his lips to hers again. This time, he parted her teeth with his tongue and drove it into her mouth. He pulled it out slowly, and then entered again.

  Oh, Daniel. Can you feel what you do to me?

  She moved her tongue beside his, parrying with him. Showing him that she was with him. And when his hand touched her breast under her T-shirt, she moaned and pulled him closer, enjoying the rough feel of his fingers against her sensitive skin.

  He lingered there a while, kissing her, before his hand roamed down her spine and dipped below the elastic waistbands of her shorts and panties. He squeezed her bottom, and pressed her closer against the hard column of his erection waiting beneath his jeans.

  And then he pulled back.

  She awoke as if from a crazy dream, worried, only to find such raw desire in his expression that she knew things were okay.

  He bent and picked her up, and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. It was dark there, without even a nightlight. But that was okay. He was about to make love with her. She knew his kiss, his touch, his scent and his muscles. Daniel. Her Daniel, for now. For this one last time, she could delude herself into believing that he was all hers.

  He leaned over her, kissing her as she sat on the low bed. Then he reached down at her sides, and she lifted her arms while he pulled her T-shirt over her head. He bent and went down on his knees between her legs, his hands on her breasts. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back and gave in to the rhythm of her heart beating hard inside, and his hands, kneading. She fully lived the pleasure, moaning when he leaned down and his tongue played over and then suckled at first one hardened nipple and then the other.

  "Lie back, sweetheart,” he murmured, turning his gaze, filled with devilish male intention, on hers.

  When she obeyed and lay against the sheets, he placed chaste kisses on her belly, on her hipbones, tickling her and making her squirm in enjoyment.

  "You're so beautiful, he drawled. “You taste good, too."

  She drifted in a swirl of words, in the warm man-smell of freshly-showered Daniel, of his strong hands shoving her pants down, and then peeling her panties off. Then his shoulders were at her knees, pressing her legs apart as he stroked the soft flesh of her inner thighs, and pressed his lips there.

  When his fingers found that wet, hard place between her legs, she turned her head from side to side and pressed her palms against his shoulders in a weak protest as he massaged. “Come here,” she said, in a voice drunk with sex.

  "I will."

  But he didn't. For that moment, she could only focus on his massaging her clitoris, slowly, torturously, until she almost cried out for him. He slipped fingers inside her, and withdrew, in and withdrew, driving her mad, to where she clawed the sheets.

  And then his mouth was there, his tongue replacing his finger, and oh god if he didn't stop now—

  She groaned and leaned back on the bed, prepared for orgasm.

  But he'd gone.

  She opened her eyes and slowly realized he was stripping out of his clothes.

  He stood there a moment, naked and gorgeous, and just looked at her. Then he climbed onto her, and pushed inside her, working in slowly as she groaned and thrust her hips to welcome him.

  He brushed his lips against hers, and their tongues joined the rhythm, until he leaned back a little, to tuck his hand between their bodies and bring her to the brink with more massaging.

  Her body clamped to his, begging for him to be driven as mad as he drove her.

  His body tensed. He was holding back for her. She wanted him to—

  And then she was on another plane, biting her lip, thrusting her hips against his as a well of wonderment washed over her in increasing circles of ecstasy.

  He pumped harder, and came with her, every muscle tensed, his penis hard, spasming, thrusting.

  He stayed in her a while, catching his breath between kissing her neck. Then he rolled off of her, but kept her close in his arms as they lay on their sides facing each other, breathing in rhythm.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Wow."

  She smiled against his damp chest. Mm. Wow. This is love, Daniel. Can't you feel it? Can't you for once say you feel it?

  He took a strand of hair off her shoulder and rubbed it between his fingers. “That was in
credible."

  She moved a little, turned in his arms to face the ceiling. His gratitude made it all so formal, and seemed to distance them. “So, are you saying you'll remember this?"

  He chuckled into the lock of hair he held, and inhaled, and kissed. “I'd say so."

  Good answer. It wasn't “I love you.” But this was Daniel. It was enough to make her sigh and remain in his arms a moment before she remembered Amy and began to move away.

  "Stay,” he said.

  "I can't. I can't leave Amy alone.” She scooted to the other side of the bed, stood and went around gathering her clothes.

  He rose from the bed, too, and pulled on his jeans. “I'll come with you. I'll carry her over here and tuck her in on the sofa, and you can stay with me."

  She padded to him, barefoot, and hugged him. Against the tickly hairs of his chest, she said softly, “No.” This was her life, hers and Amy's. This was how it would be, his leaving and her staying with their daughter. She couldn't think how much it would hurt on Sunday. She couldn't go there right now. She tipped her chin up, to look at him. “Think about in the morning, when Amy wakes up. If she's here, and we're together, what will she think?"

  He thought a moment. “That we're all together?"

  She shook her head. “She'll think it's always going to be this way."

  He looked down at her, and she saw something in his eyes then. It wasn't lust. It was something that came more slowly. A softening, an opening up to her that hadn't been there before. “What if it is?” His arms, encircling her, tightened. His lips turned up in a slow smile. “Would you have me?"

  She arched her brows as feminine power unfurled inside her. “That depends on what you're asking. Do you mean would I have you as a long-term renter? Or did you have something else in mind?"

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  Chapter Fifteen

  Daniel gave Gretchen a peck on the nose. “All I know is, I don't want to leave you and Amy."

  "I don't want you to leave.” She pressed her cheek against his chest. She'd stay just like this forever, except she'd rather be lying beside him in bed than standing here.

  He brushed her hair out of her eyes, and tucked it behind her ear. “I don't know how to play house. I haven't tried since I was married. Not only am I out of practice, but I wasn't even good at it."

  "Maybe you weren't married to the right person."

  "True.” He massaged the muscles in her neck.

  She smiled up at him. “I thought you were walking me to my door."

  He sighed against her hair. “If I must."

  When she opened her door moments later, she went immediately to check on Amy. Returning, she informed him, “Our daughter is sleeping like an angel."

  "She had a long day.” His lashes lowered and he gazed at her mouth. “Well, if I can't persuade you to come back with me...” His words trailed off as he leaned in and his mouth met hers in a long, lingering kiss.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away and backed off the porch.

  Gretchen stood in the doorway and watched him go. He looked so good just in jeans, feet shoved into his shoes, forget the socks. His hair was mussed, his beard a bristly shadow that had tickled her skin and made her bite her lip with pleasure. How could she not go with him?

  She shut the door, walked slowly to her own bed, and crawled under the covers in her clothes. They smelled of Daniel. She wanted that closeness, at least.

  Her eyes closed, opened, and closed again. What if he stayed? He'd sort of offered that, hadn't he? Could it work, having him here? Having his arms around her every day, and his voice, murmuring in her ear? His mouth to kiss, his gazes to interpret? His little amusements, and his friendships, which were already her own? They had these things in common now.

  They certainly had lovemaking in common. Fitting together so well in that area couldn't hurt.

  Who was she kidding? It could destroy her. But to put it aside for the moment and hope against everything wrong in the past that they could have a future, that was bliss. Unreasonable, maybe, but bliss nonetheless.

  She pulled the covers up to her ear and closed her eyes. It was late and she needed sleep in order to function fully at the festival. And yet, her mind was filled with Daniel. Each time she'd start to drift off, something would pop into her head. She'd see again the dark, deep wanting in his gaze. She'd hear his low, rumbling laugh and feel a quick surge of desire just by remembering their passion.

  She sighed, flung the covers away, and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.

  She was in love—full, deep, terrifying love—with Daniel.

  * * * *

  Daniel whistled as he made his coffee. He'd been brewing his own since Gretchen had showed him how.

  When the coffeemaker beeped, he poured himself a mug. Carrying it with him, he opened the front door.

  Ahh. Excellent day for a festival.

  As he drove to town to meet up with Wally, he recalled his first day there, when he'd wandered the sidewalks, wondering what people did in such an old-fashioned place. Now he knew. They lived here, same as people did in every other place. Somehow Marydale's days seemed longer, though. Maybe it was because he wasn't working, but he swore he'd experienced more in his short time here than he had in years in the city.

  At the corner of the park square, he saw Wally unloading his truck and pulled up behind him.

  "Daniel!” someone called as he climbed from the SUV.

  He glanced around and saw Amy across the street, standing in front of the gift shop. She smiled and started running toward him.

  "Look both ways!” he yelled, his heart in his throat.

  She skidded to a halt at the curb as cars advanced down the road toward them on both sides.

  He blew out a harsh breath. “It's okay now. Come on."

  She scampered over.

  When she reached him, he bent to her level. “Always stop, look, and listen at roads. Understand?"

  She nodded soberly.

  He smiled, satisfied. He swung her up in the air, and she giggled. “Did your mommy fix you pancakes today or what? You weigh a ton."

  "No, silly. Waffles."

  He winked at Wally, and set Amy down again. “Where is Mommy, anyway?"

  "In the shop."

  His gaze settled on the doorway across the street. He wanted to go over there. He wanted to see Gretchen, just see her. Then he could get on with his day's work.

  "She said to tell you something."

  "What?"

  "We're going to the carnival rides at twelve."

  "Oh.” He waited, but she didn't say anything else. “Can I come, too?"

  She nodded, and he smiled. She seemed to have forgotten all about yesterday's troubles.

  He looked around at the truck. “Wally needs my help. Let me get him set up and I'll take you across the street."

  "Can I pass out fliers?"

  "Sure. Come on."

  They set up the booth, cutout and ghost tour quickly. When they'd finished, Wally said, “Crystal's coming in ten minutes. You two go on. I'm okay here."

  Daniel held Amy's hand and crossed the street.

  Crystal came bouncing out of the diner, saw them and waved. “Hi, cuties. You gonna try the musical chairs to win cakes? We decided to make it a little different this year, so we're doing a cake ‘sit’ instead of a ‘walk.’ I donated coconut, chocolate with chocolate icing, and carrot to the cause."

  "Then we're definitely doing musical chairs.” Daniel smiled down at Amy. “Right?"

  "Right."

  They went into the gift shop and found it mobbed by kids and adults.

  Amy found her friends and they played with stuffed animal puppets from a bin. Daniel roamed the card aisle, waiting to speak to Gretchen, who rang up sales at the counter.

  Maybe he'd get her a card. Pulling a few, he read the verses and replaced them, scowling. They didn't capture what he wanted to say. He wanted to leave her with just the right wo
rds and the perfect sentiments behind them. He wanted to tell her how he really felt about her. He'd decided last night that he would take that chance and open up. But if he did, how could he get beyond those feelings once he left town tomorrow morning?

  He wandered to the doorway to check on Wally. Crystal stood by his side, posed in her black Victorian dress, hat and parasol. Wally had propped the cutout board sign next to her. The painted sign depicted a full-size person lying in a coffin with a hole where the face should be. Tourists could stick their faces in the hole, and Crystal would take a photo of them. This setup had already drawn a crowd of onlookers, who'd hopefully read the advertising printed across the coffin: “Ghost Tours of Marydale, presented by Marydale Casket Company. We're dying for your business."

  "How's Wally doing?"

  Daniel turned, and smiled. Gretchen had slipped up beside him. He glanced over at the register.

  "I got Cile to cover for me."

  His smile stretched, and he put a hand on her back and rubbed the very place where he'd kissed her last night during lovemaking. Well, one of the places.

  She gazed up at him. Her eyes seemed to reflect openness to him now. Good. The closeness they'd shared last night didn't scare him, and he didn't want it to scare her.

  "Is Cile cool with you being gone for the whole day?"

  "If you want. I'm the boss, you know."

  "I know.” He looked into her eyes. “And I want."

  She blushed then, and he started to pull her into his arms. But she moved away. “Amy's with BJ and their friend Kirsten. Let me just tell Kirsten's mom where I'll be.” She went over to the stuffed toys.

  While Daniel waited, he saw Eula's friend, Martha, leaving the drugstore. “Martha!” He waved.

  She spotted him and tottered over. “Hello, young man. How are you?"

  "Fine. Ready for this beautiful day?"

  Gretchen came out, and stood by his side, and greeted the woman, too.

  "When I was your age,” she said, her head turning from one to the other, “I was being courted by three boys. I had to decide which one would get to take me on the festival hayride."

  Daniel chuckled. “I'll bet you did.” He turned to Gretchen. “Is there still a hayride?"