One Hot Daddy: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Kira Blakely

  “Hello, Gemma,” she said dejectedly. I could sense that she had given up. Didn’t she care anymore either?

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, walking over and sitting down on the lidded toilet seat.

  “Nothing is wrong, Gemma. What could possibly be wrong? We just have no idea where our daughter is. Your father is sick, and we don’t hear from you unless you call to tell us you’re not coming home.” She sounded exhausted. Had she stayed awake all night, worried for me?

  “I know, Mom, I’m sorry. What’s wrong with Dad?” I asked, my brows creasing with worry. I could hear him coughing again in the background and Mom sighed.

  “The same. His lungs have gotten worse, nothing new. You don’t have to worry about it,” Mom said. I could imagine her pacing the small floor space at the front of the trailer. I could picture Dad sitting on the tattered couch by the window, looking out at the deserted trailer park. The couch had holes in them now, and I had been hoping for the past six months that I would be able to save enough money to buy him a new one.

  I caught sight of the luxurious bathroom I was sitting in now, the gold faucets in the bathtub, the marble floor… My breath caught in my throat. What was I doing?

  “I’m coming home today, Mom. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish for the past few days,” I said, recognizing the tear in my voice.

  Mom sighed again, like she didn’t believe me. Her initial anger had turned to worry, and now had turned to apathy. Her beloved daughter had become someone else.

  “Someone in the diner recognized the man you’re with. Some big shot businessman from California? You’re shacked up with someone who is buying you fancy things, aren’t you?” Mom said, but surprisingly she didn’t have any malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

  “It’s not like that, Mom. It’s not about his money. Anyway, I’m coming home now,” I said, nearly at the brink of tears. It was like I was in a daze all these days and now finally the clouds were clearing. I could see the truth in what Mom was saying. Was that technically what it was? I had been foolish enough to be lured by Vincent's luxurious lifestyle?

  “Sure, honey. Tell yourself that. Why are you coming home now? Is he kicking you out? Is he done with you then?” she continued, still in that voice that dripped of exhaustion.

  Dad was coughing again. He needed his medicine. I needed to find a job.

  “No, Mom, it’s not like that, just… just… I’ll be home in a few hours. And I’m sorry,” I said, hanging up the phone just as a volley of tears gushed up the back of my throat. The phone fell to the floor, and I caught my face with both my hands. What had I done! Why couldn’t I see the truth in this situation before? I had repeatedly fallen for Vincent’s charm and his lifestyle, when I should have forgotten about him a long time ago. This wasn’t my life. Just like he had a duty to his business and his family, I had a duty to mine as well, no matter where I lived.

  I had my face covered with both my hands when I heard Vincent's voice at the door. I jerked my head up to look at him as he stood leaning against the door frame. He had put on a pair of jeans, and his thick muscular arms remained crossed over his chest. He was looking at me from under heavy lids, his face softened by the morning light.

  “How can I make this right, Gemma?” he asked.

  Vincent had found me a robe from the back of his closet, one that he never wore. It was in pristine egg-shell white and soft cuddly cotton, and I tied the belt around my waist. I really couldn’t have this conversation with him while I was naked.

  We had come back to the bedroom, and Vincent now stood in front of the large ceiling-to-floor windows, with his wide back against the sun. I was sitting cross-legged on his bed, nursing a mug of his Colombian ground coffee, two mugs of which he had asked Tim to bring up a few minutes ago.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on with you,” he said when we had settled into our places, and after we had been staring at each other in silence for some time.

  I breathed in deeply. “I don’t know what you want to know,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.

  “You were talking to your mother on the phone? I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Your voice woke me up,” he said, keeping a steady gaze on me. He didn’t seem like he was going to back down this time.

  “Yes, I was,” I said, gulping.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were close to your parents. I don’t even know who you have in your family,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  I took a long sip of the coffee and looked back at him. “Just me and my parents,” I replied and Vincent nodded gently.

  “And you’re close to them?” he asked, stressing on the word ‘close.’ He had heard me talking intimately to Mom earlier; something told me that he shared a very formal relationship with his own parents.

  “You could say that, I suppose. I don’t exactly have a choice,” I said, mustering up all the courage I could find. If this was going to be our last conversation, it might as well be an honest one. I didn’t really have anything to lose any more.

  “Why don’t you have a choice?” he asked and our eyes met again. Vincent's brows were crossed, he looked a little surprised, and I didn’t know how exactly to frame the words. I didn’t know what his reaction was going to be once he learned the truth.

  “I live with them,” I said and felt the breath being knocked out of me.

  Vincent was looking at me and his expression remained unchanged. He neither looked surprised nor amused. I wasn’t sure how he had taken the information.

  “I’m twenty-six years old and I live with my parents. There you have it,” I said and took another long sip of the coffee. I kept my eyes on him to study his face, but it remained unchanged. It was like he was expecting to hear some more.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit surprised? Or are you trying to not hurt my feelings?” I asked, shaking my head at him.

  Vincent squared his shoulders and blinked at me. “Why would I be surprised? I didn’t know anything about you. I didn’t know what to expect,” he said and I felt my cheeks burning up. Did he really think that little of me? That he had no expectations from me at all?

  “And we live in a trailer park. I’ve grown up in a trailer; I’ve lived there all my life. My parents could never afford a real house.” The words came tumbling out of me without control. I could feel my hands shaking as they gripped the mug of coffee. Finally, there was some movement from Vincent's side. He had clenched his jaw and was now walking over to me.

  “Is that what you’ve been trying to keep from me?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “Of course, I have!” I snapped, annoyed now. How could he ask me such a thing?

  “Why?” he asked, he was looking at me indulgently as he came over.

  “Because I didn’t want you to judge me. I wanted us to keep having a great time,” I said, following his every movement with my eyes.

  “And you thought that for some reason, your house was going to come in the middle of that?” he asked, his face breaking into a full smile now. Was he mocking me? Was this funny to him?

  “I didn’t know what to think,” I said, my voice dropping by several decibels. Vincent was close to me now, standing in front of me with his legs spread apart.

  “Was that why you kept running away from me? Why you think you don’t belong in my world? Because of a trailer park?” he asked and reached out his hand toward me. His fingers touched my cheek and my lips quivered automatically. What was going on? This was not what I had expected to unfurl.

  “Maybe,” I whispered as he stroked my cheek with his large rough thumb. I could breathe in his scent now. His dark wavy hair was ruffled and fell low on his neck. He was still shirtless, and I could see his chiseled abs. He was an unbelievable delicious sight, and he was smiling at me as he stood.

  “You’ve been underestimating me from the start, Gemma. You really thought that such material things would matter to me?” he said in a gruff low voice. He nearly sounded offended. The smile was gone, and he looked
like he was hurt by what I had said.

  “It’s true, Vincent. I don’t belong in your world. You have no idea what my world looks like,” I said and he dropped his hand from my cheek. To my surprise, he was nodding. Something had changed in him.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what your world looks like. Maybe I was too rash in asking you to come here. You’re right to want to leave, of course you are,” he said and I could hear my heart thumping. It was loud enough for him to hear as well. This was the end of my fairytale.

  “I should come with you and have a look,” he added.

  Vincent

  The last few hours had passed in a whirlwind. In the morning, we were in California, and now we were back in Carlow Ridge. I had rented the same silver Mercedes, and I drove it down to the trailer park as Gemma gave me directions. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect. I was going to meet the parents of a girl I had known only a few days. Gemma was sitting beside me with her hands clasped together on her lap. She looked just as nervous as me. She hadn’t believed me when I said I wanted to accompany her home. That I wanted to see her world. Now she looked like she was still in disbelief.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said, reaching for her hand as I parked inside the gates of the trailer park. I had never been to a place like this before.

  Trailers were parked in a circle, some of them supported by massive red bricks to keep them above the ground. There had to be at least eight or ten in number, but I could see very few people. Just a couple of kids were kicking around a ball in the middle of the circle.

  Gemma must have seen me looking.

  “A lot of the families have moved out in the last couple of years,” she said as we got out of the car.

  She was back in her pair of jeans and the pink top and black sweater. Her hair was hanging loose in dark rich curls around her shoulders. She was right. I couldn’t quite picture her in a place like this. I smiled at her and nodded.

  “I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, Vincent, or why you’re even here,” she said as we walked together toward a mint-green trailer that had its front door slightly ajar.

  “I’m here because of you. I’m following you home, Gemma,” I said and placed a hand on her back. I could feel her muscles stiffen under my touch and I drew my hand away. I sensed that she still didn’t trust me. Perhaps she thought I had a hidden agenda for being here.

  “Mom? Dad?” she called out as she climbed up the three steps into the trailer. I followed her, crouching a little as I realized that the trailer’s ceiling was a little low for me.

  “Gemma?” an older man’s voice called from somewhere inside.

  I was struck instantly by how small the place was. We seemed to have entered a kitchen/living room, which had a couch and a tattered armchair by the window. A TV was playing the news on mute.

  Something like a stew was boiling on the stove, left unattended.

  “You’re actually home,” a man said, finally appearing from down a narrow hall, supporting himself on a walking cane. He looked much older, older than I would have expected Gemma’s father to be. He was in a yellowish tank top and a pair of track pants, adjusting his glasses on his nose. A thick cardigan was draped on his shoulders.

  He looked surprised to see me, as I stood beside Gemma with a smile on my face.

  “Hello, Dad. I’m home,” Gemma said and walked over to give her father a tight hug. He patted her back but kept his eyes on me.

  “Louise, we have a visitor!” he yelled out at the top of his lungs, and I stepped forward, extending my hand to him.

  “Vincent Stoltz,” I introduced myself and we shook hands. His hands were thin and cold, but he smiled at me nonetheless.

  “Stoltz?” He repeated my last name and I nodded my head.

  “I’m Dan Ramsey, Gemma’s father,” he said, staring me up and down, still in surprise.

  “Why don’t you take a seat, Dad?” Gemma said to him, leading him gently toward the battered armchair.

  “Who is it?” A woman appeared, wiping her hands on a dirty apron that she had tied to her waist. Her eyes widened when she drank me in, her mouth nearly fell open. She was old, too, but looked younger than Dan. She had her daughter’s same smoky amber eyes. Her hair was curly as well, but was now gray.

  “Mom, this is Vincent,” Gemma said meekly, standing between us.

  “I see,” Louise Ramsey said, as I extended a hand to her. She was looking at me sharply, her eyes still wide and a cold expression on her face. I had expected no less; I had kept her daughter away for several days.

  “Well, we hug each other around these parts,” she said and grabbed my hand instead of shaking it and pulled me in toward her. We were hugging, and I had never felt a warmer hug before.

  When I looked up, I noticed Gemma’s eyebrows arched up. She wasn’t exactly smiling but she looked surprised, like she wasn’t expecting her mother to react like this.

  “Well, you’re just in time then, children. I was just about to serve your father his lunch. Grab some bowls and settle down,” Louise said, walking past me casually to the stove. Gemma looked at me and I smiled at her.

  “And close the door will you, honey? There’s a draft coming in,” Louise added, looking up from her stirring of the pot.

  I had never seen my mother cook any meals for me. So, this was what a real home-cooked family meal felt like! I was the first one to grab a bowl from off the counter and I plonked it down next to Louise.

  “Smells delicious, Mrs. Ramsey,” I said, smiling down at the shorter lady. When she looked up, she was smiling, too. Gemma had been worried for no reason.

  Gemma

  Vincent had his head slightly bent the whole time he was inside the trailer, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. His shoulders were shaking now, as he laughed gloriously. Dad was laughing, too, while Mom repeated the story of me learning to ride a bike. Probably for the hundredth time in her life. Now she had found someone new to tell it to.

  “So, Gemma was determined, even as a kid,” Vincent said when his laughter subsided and he looked up at me.

  Our soups and bread was finished, but we were still sitting at the table, laughing. How long had it even been?

  “Always. You can’t fight her,” Dad said, throwing me a prideful look. I pouted my lips at him and Vincent laughed again. I had brought him here out of stubbornness, to show him why I had been so ashamed. And now he had managed to charm my parents and it felt like he had known them forever.

  “You should have just told us where you were, honey, and we wouldn’t have worried so much for you,” Mom said suddenly, turning to me.

  “Not her fault. I didn’t want people to find out where I was staying here,” Vincent cut in and I looked at him thankfully.

  “Do you have the paparazzi following you everywhere?” Dad asked. He couldn’t hide his curiosity.

  Vincent gave a short laugh and then he nodded. “A lot of the time, yes,” he said, exchanging looks with me.

  “So, what’s going to happen now? You’re going to go back to Los Angeles? Back to work? Is vacation time over for you?” Mom asked, and my heart sank again. Did we really need to be talking about this, now? Just when things were going so well.

  I avoided looking at Vincent, because I didn’t want to give away how anxious that had made me. How just the thought of not seeing him made me feel. I had no idea what any of this meant for our relationship, for us. Nothing had changed really. I still couldn’t change my life overnight. At least now, he knew why I was so uncomfortable in LA. Why I wanted to return home.

  “Vacation is over indeed, but I might stay here, in Carlow Ridge, for a few days. Just until Gemma can figure out the details,” Vincent said, without looking at me. Mom and Dad both turned to me in unison, while I stared at Vincent. What was he talking about? What details?

  “About what?” Mom asked, turning back around to Vincent.

  “Packing up, moving…” Vincent said casually, sett
ling back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, as he met Mom’s questioning gaze with his usual charming calmness.

  “Moving? Where are you going?” Dad asked, now fixing me with a pleading stare. Mom didn’t dare ask me where I was going. The truth was that I didn’t know what Vincent was talking about.

  “She’s moving to LA with me. She’s going to try and get into med school there,” he said, finally meeting my gaze. His black eyes were glittering, while the dimples on his cheeks appeared again. It looked like he was enjoying himself, making my heart race like that.

  “Med school? You mean medical school? But, how?” Dad asked, pushing his empty bowl away from him. None of us had a clue what was going on.

  “She’s going to start applying, once she finishes her biology degree. She can complete it in LA and then apply for med school there, if she wants to, of course,” Vincent said, looking me straight in the eye. He wasn’t making this decision for me. He was giving me a chance to refuse him. He was making a suggestion, but giving me the opportunity to run away from it if I wanted to.

  “Is this true?” Mom asked beside me. All three of them were staring at me now.

  “Yes, I want to study medicine. I’ve wanted to for a long time. I just couldn’t afford to go away from here,” I said, my voice breaking as I spoke. I still couldn’t afford to go away. Who would look after my parents? Where would I get the money?

  “What about…?” Mom asked, even her voice was shaking now. She was thinking the same thing I was.

  “I’ve offered her a job at my company. She can work there part-time while she finishes her biology degree,” Vincent said. He had thought of everything. When had he thought of all this?

  When Mom looked at me, I was nodding.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of everything,” I said and reached for her hand.

  “You’re going to have a big fancy job in LA? Our daughter?” Dad said, his voice hopping with excitement. I laughed, as did Mom, but she was tearful with joy.