My eyes swept over her body. Her already tiny skirt had ridden up, and her shirt had bunched around her stomach, exposing the skin I know to be softer than silk.
I couldn’t stay. We’d already crossed too many lines. There was no way I was crossing that one too.
I went back to my room alone and then crawled into a bottle of tequila to chase away the urge to give in to her.
It might be the first time I’ve had that much tequila and didn’t end up naked.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That’s why my head is pounding. I tried to forget the way she felt in my arms. Tried to forget the look she gave me when I confessed my deepest secret, like I was a fucking hero when all I did was be there for someone who needed me.
I tried to forget the way she begged me to kiss her.
I’m so sick of trying to forget.
I want her. I want her bad.
Maybe this situation we have ourselves in isn’t that bad. Maybe we can date and not make it weird. Right?
No, idiot. You’re her employer.
And as long as that’s true, we can’t be together, no matter how badly we both want it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Dad!”
Oh shit.
I flip over too fast and I feel my stomach turn. Ugh. I clutch at the discomfort and open my mouth to tell my daughter to give me a minute, but then another voice joins in.
“Kyrie.”
Though she’s trying hard to be quiet, I hear Dory. Then again, everything sounds like it’s being screamed right now.
“Your dad is probably still sleeping.”
Which is something she should be doing too. How the hell does she sound so awake right now?
“Let’s give him another half hour and then we’ll wake him up. Sound good?”
“But…but…breakfast.”
“We’ll make breakfast. Omelets and bacon—how’s that sound?”
I can imagine Kyrie wiggling her lips back and forth, thinking it over. “Deal.”
I know they shake on it before retreating down the hall.
I glance toward the alarm clock beside my bed and am surprised as fuck to see it’s past nine already.
I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I peel myself out of my comfortable bed and head for the adjoining bathroom.
I take the world’s hottest shower, trying to wash away the hangover and not think about Dory and what it would have felt like to stay with her last night. My bed felt so empty and cold the entire night. I could have used someone to warm it.
I could have used her.
Dressed in sweats and a tee that reads code-blooded, because there is no way I’ll be leaving the house today, I make my way into the kitchen.
When I round the corner, my heart warms at the scene before me.
Both girls have aprons slung around their bodies that read I’m just here for the food, and they’re bobbing their heads along to the music floating out of the smart speaker I have set up in here.
I lean against the entryway, watching them.
They look like they’re having so much fun and I almost feel bad for interrupting them, but if I don’t have coffee in the next minute, my head might explode.
Like she can feel me watching her hips sway, Dory turns her head toward me.
Her eyes widen for a moment, then she smiles brightly, hips still swaying.
“Good morning.”
“Dad!” Kyrie spots me and jumps down from her step stool, running over and jumping into my arms.
I hug her tightly. “What’s this for? I thought you didn’t even like me anymore with the way you wanted to run off to Uncle Foster’s yesterday.”
“I like you. I just like Uncle Foster a little bit more.”
“What the…” I tickle her and she giggles, wiggling in my arms. I don’t even care about my screaming headache right now. Her laughter is worth all the pain. “What do you mean more?”
“He…buys me…teatime dresses,” she says breathlessly, the words broken up by gasps. “Dad! Stop it!”
“No way,” I argue, continuing my assault. “Not until you say you like me most. I buy you dresses too, you little shithead.”
She laughs and laughs, wiggling around like a fish out of water.
“You stepped in it now,” Dory says to Kyrie, grinning at us.
“Fine, fine. I take it back. I like…” Kyrie can hardly breathe now, and I relent in my tickle attack just a little so she can recover. “I like Dory the most!”
She uses the moment to her advantage, darting across the kitchen and into Dory’s arms.
“Why do you like me most? I don’t buy you dresses.”
“Because you take me to the beach and let me have ice cream every single day.”
“Every day, huh?” I say, moving across the kitchen to the coffee pot.
A blush stains Dory’s cheeks.
“That was supposed to be our secret,” Dory whispers to Kyrie.
“And you’re my favorite because my daddy likes you.”
“Does he now?”
“Yep.”
Dory’s eyes find mine and she tucks her lips together, trying to hide her smile.
I lift a shoulder, taking a sip of the hot brew in my hands.
“How do you know that?” Dory asks.
Kyrie shrugs and hops back up onto her step stool, reaching for an egg to crack. “Because he looks at you a lot when you’re not looking at him.”
I feel the tips of my ears heat, which is unusual for me. I’m not one to get embarrassed easily, maybe from all my years of being the poor kid who got picked on. I grew some thick skin.
But hearing my daughter say she’s caught me lusting after her nanny? That’s embarrassing as fuck.
“I’ll have to remember that bit of information,” Dory says quietly, and I know she’s talking to me.
I rest my elbows against the counter next to Kyrie, watching her work.
“How’d you get here anyway? You walk? I know your little legs can’t carry you that far. You’ve skipped leg day three times this month already.”
Kyrie groans. “Because leg day is the worst.”
“Leg day is the best day.”
“No way.” Her nose wrinkles. “Missy Fishy came and got me this morning.”
My eyes shoot to Dory, but I continue talking to Kyrie. “She did, huh? Why’s that?”
“I was missing you.”
“You were? But I thought Uncle Foster was your favorite?”
“No. Dory is my favorite.” She smacks a loud kiss to my cheek. “But you’re my second favorite.”
“I’m honored,” I deadpan. “What are you making me for breakfast?”
“Omelets.”
“Extra onions,” Dory comments, and I cover my laugh with my coffee cup.
“Ew. Gross,” Kyrie says. “Please don’t put onions in mine.”
Last night with her was…comfortable. It felt so normal to just hang out and talk. Being around her felt so natural, so right.
I want to do it again and again.
And maybe once more for good measure.
“What’d you do last night, Dad?”
“Well, I…”
My eyes flit to Dory.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie to her, to tell her I just sat at home and did nothing, but that’s not how it works with us. I’m already hiding one huge secret from her. I’d rather the lies—no matter how small they may be—not start stacking up.
“I took Dory to dinner for her birthday. We went to Slice.”
Kyrie’s head whips toward Dory. “It was your birthday yesterday?” she questions incredulously.
“Yes, it was.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Dory looks remorseful. “I didn’t tell anybody.”
“But my dad knew!”
“That’s because he’s a know-it-all.”
I laugh, pushing off the c
ounter and walking around the other side to take a seat on a stool.
Kyrie doesn’t argue Dory’s claim, and I’m slightly offended.
I also notice she doesn’t seem to be upset about the idea of me and Dory going out to dinner together alone, just that she didn’t know about her birthday.
“Did you kiss?”
Kyrie’s question sends Dory into a coughing fit, and I’m so happy I just swallowed my drink of coffee. If I hadn’t, it would be all over the counter right about now.
“What the…” Dory mutters.
“What?” Kyrie says, attention focused solely on the task at hand, as if asking us if we kissed didn’t just throw us for a loop. “Nellie’s mom and dad kiss.”
“You mean your uncle Foster and aunt Wren?”
She nods. “Yep. And so do Riker’s parents.”
Winston and Drew.
“Kyrie…you know Dory isn’t here to be your mom, right? She’s just here to be your…your nanny.”
My daughter’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I know, but sometimes I think it would be nice to have another mom since mine isn’t coming back. And Dory loves me, so I just figured…”
Her words trail off, her tongue darting out the side of her mouth as she works to pick out the eggshells she just dropped into the bowl.
I gulp and feel like vomiting for the second time this morning.
She said it so nonchalantly and moved on so quickly.
Anger stirs inside me at her mother. How the fuck can a human just leave behind another human like that? Especially one they grew inside them?
But…she did warn me when she was pregnant. She warned me she couldn’t do this, and I told her she could.
She was right.
“I think it would be nice if you had someone to kiss again. You used to be so happy when you got kisses from Mommy.”
Because of my honesty policy, Kyrie knows her mother isn’t coming back. She doesn’t have any notions of her mother suddenly swooping back into her life and making us that happy little family again.
I guess I just never factored in that Kyrie might believe someone else is going to swoop in and save us both.
“We didn’t kiss, Kyrie, but you’re right about one thing.” Dory ruffles her hair with a sad smile. “I do love you.”
My daughter smiles up at her, and the anger starts to fade.
I don’t need my ex.
I just need this.
“Oh!” Kyrie bonks her forehead, ever the drama queen, and hops off her step stool. “I gotta make you a card! Can you finish breakfast?”
Dory laughs. “Sure.”
“There are eggshells in the bowl!” Kyrie tells her and then sprints from the room.
I stare after her, the little bombshell—and eggshell—dropper.
Dory exhales heavily. “Holy shit that was intense.”
“Tell me about it.”
She peers down into the bowl Kyrie abandoned. “She wasn’t kidding about the eggshells either. There’s practically a whole egg in here.”
She dumps the contents of the bowl into the trash, deciding it’s easier to start over than try to salvage them.
“Thank you for picking her up this morning.”
“It’s no problem. Kind of in my job description.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell you I appreciate it.”
She shrugs. “It was no big deal. Really.”
“Well, I still appreciate it. Really.”
She gives me a look, like she wants to tell me to stop thanking her but thinks better of it.
“Thank you, Porter.”
I wonder for a moment if she’s thanking me for last night, for putting her to bed and not taking advantage of her. If that’s the case, I’ll be really fucking annoyed, because I shouldn’t be thanked for being a decent human.
I tilt my head. “For what?”
“For my mug,” she says shyly. “It was a sweet surprise this morning.”
Last night, after I put her to bed, I snuck into the kitchen and put the mug I ordered for her in the cabinet front and center so she’d see it first thing this morning.
Her eyes dart to where it sits amidst the mess on the counter. I searched and searched online for something that screamed Dory and finally found just the right thing.
“I run on coffee and Led Zeppelin.” She pinches the shirt she’s wearing. “It’s very fitting for me.”
I laugh. “Please tell me you changed into that after you saw your mug.”
“Nope. Just happened that way. But, to be fair, it’s one of my favorite shirts, so the likelihood of this happening was pretty high.” She gives me a bashful grin. “Thank you again, Porter.”
“You’re welcome, Dory.”
I wink, and her smile widens, her attention falling to the task at hand.
Rising from my stool, I open my mouth to offer to help, and she shakes her head like she knew it was coming.
“Nope. Just enjoy your coffee.”
I plunk back down and watch her crack eggs and chop ingredients while sipping on my dwindling java.
It’s several minutes before either of us speaks again.
“Do you think she…” Dory starts quietly, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip and then disappearing again. “Do you think she expects us to…”
“Kiss?” I lift a brow, and she nods bashfully. “It appears so.”
Another blush.
I lift myself from the stool, moving around the counter to refill my empty cup because today is definitely a two-cups kind of day.
I turn to ask Dory if she’d like some but she’s right there, and we collide into each other.
I grab her upper arms, steadying her.
Though it’s an innocent one, I can’t deny how good she feels under my touch. But she always feels good.
Soft. Warm.
I walk her backward until she’s resting against the counter, my fingers sliding down her arms until my hands settle on her hips.
She presses into me, and I press back and then wrap my arms around her.
“Dory…”
She sighs.
“I—”
She shakes her head, then drops it, burying her face in my chest. I feel her hot breath against me, and I will my dick not to react.
“Please don’t say anything about last night, Porter. I’m embarrassed enough by my words. I don’t need any reminders. I’m putting on a brave face for Kyrie today, and hopefully by tonight I’ll forget all about it.”
I won’t.
“Promise me?”
I nod. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you.”
This time the sigh is filled with relief, and I squeeze her tighter, relishing the feel of her in my arms while it lasts.
* * *
I can’t get my daughter’s words out of my head.
It would be nice if you had someone to kiss again.
I want that too.
You used to be so happy when you got kisses from Mommy.
I was. I was so fucking happy.
Things weren’t perfect with me and my ex, but we never pretended they were.
She wanted more adventure, more experiences.
I wanted stability and security because I’d never had it before.
We were bound to fail, and she’d told me before that she’d leave me eventually. I just never thought she’d leave Kyrie too.
But she did. She didn’t fight for her during the divorce, didn’t fight me for more money. She just took what I offered and left.
She left me. Left her daughter. Left a hole in our lives.
She was just gone.
You’d think, given my history of my father walking out and my mother being an absentee parent, I’d be used to being left.
But I wasn’t. It gutted me. Made me so fucking angry.
And when I got tired of being angry, I channeled all that into my company and built an empire in the last two years.
Now
here I am, richer than I ever dreamed with a daughter I love more than life itself.
I’m happy. I’m fulfilled.
So why did Kyrie’s words wrap themselves around my heart?
Because you have someone to kiss, you just choose not to.
She’s my employee. We can’t go there.
Can we?
The door swings open and Dory’s face fills the opening.
“Porter?”
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”
Her brows pinch together at my sudden question that’s completely lacking context.
“When you said you wanted to forget last night. When you said you didn’t want to remember asking me to kiss you.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. “I…”
“Be honest, Dory. With me. With yourself.”
“No.” She closes her eyes, like maybe if she can’t see me, I can’t see her, and we can pretend she didn’t say anything. “No, I didn’t mean it.”
“Good.”
I turn, trying to convince myself to leave, but I don’t. I can’t get myself to move.
Which is funny because my feet definitely had plans of their own when they brought me here.
“Is that what you came here for, Porter?”
I look back at her. “Yes.”
After hours of lying in bed tossing and turning and not being able to get Kyrie’s words or Dory’s lips out of my head, I had to know if she really wanted to pretend last night was nothing.
I got my answer. I should leave.
But my stupid feet…
My eyes drink her in. She’s wearing nothing but a t-shirt that’s barely covering her ass, I’m sure. Her hair is a little wild, but it doesn’t look like she’s been sleeping.
Was she up thinking about me too?
I don’t think about my next move.
I push into her room. Is it really considered a push when she’s opening the door wider?
“Porter, I—”
Her words die when I cradle her face in my hands.
She gasps at the contact, the sound almost more of a plea.
I run my thumb over her full bottom lip, loving the feel of it.
She peers up at me, eyes churning and burning for more.
Me too.
“Dory?”
“Yeah?” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. It’s not intentional, simply on instinct as her nerves flare.
Doughn’t Let Me Go Page 14