by Jamie Knight
I vividly remember a lady walking up to my house, looking nervous and afraid.
“B-Br-Brad?” she asked quietly.
“'Yeah,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Wringing her hands and glancing around nervously, she continued, but in a language I did not understand. It wasn’t Spanish or French or any of the languages I’d heard in school. Might’ve been Hungarian.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…” I remember extending out my hand slowly, with caution.
She was so scared. It was then I realized her body was wrapped in some unusual garment I’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell if it was one of those fashionista things or one of those National Geographic things. The sadness in her eyes touched my heart.
“C-Caaar? Car? Help?” she asked in an unsure voice.
“Sure, I'll help you. Let me give you a ride to wherever your car is.”
As I said it, I made a motion with one of my arms as if I was using a steering wheel to drive, while gesturing at her with my other arm to come with me. She understood what I was saying and lit up right away, smiling.
We drove the mile to where her car was and I saw what was wrong right away. Her car had overheated and needed coolant. I drove her over to the gas station and she bought some. I put it in her car, had her start the car, and after a few minutes, her engine sounded better and she was ready to go.
“Tank you,” she said, bowing her head deeply, holding my teenaged hand between her two hands, clasped as if in prayer.
“You're welcome.”
She looked up into my eyes, hers welling with emotion. “God… God repay you,” she said.
“It's okay. Really. I'm just glad that I could help,” I told her.
I saw two car seats in the back of her car and wondered where her children were. I didn't bother asking her. But, I was happy that I could help.
That was when I realized that my interest in being a mechanic was more than just a hobby. I wanted to make it my profession.
I worked hard and put myself through trade school, paying for it by working at a fast food joint. Those were long, hard days, going to school during the day and working at night. Sheer will got me through those nights when the restaurant was slow.
But, I knew that if I had any hopes of doing anything with my life, I would have to keep going. I came from a dirt-poor family. Most of them had barely gotten through grade school, let alone had any real profession to speak of.
So, when I graduated from trade school as a mechanic, I felt like I was on top of the fucking world. Unfortunately, though, there weren't very many opportunities in the town where I lived. And I didn’t have the money to pack up and move.
When an Air Force recruiter came around and asked if I wanted to join, I signed up right away. I knew that this was it—my ticket to freedom.
And I was right. Being a mechanic in the Air Force opened my eyes to a whole new world. Honestly, it was an entirely new level of existence. I never even knew anyone who worked that hard, with focus, in order to accomplish—and to be accomplished—as the guys in my unit did.
I’d kind of always been a bit of a daredevil. I just couldn’t “keep my booty still,” as my old great-aunt Birdie diagnosed at my fifteenth birthday party. (It was a great time—we were jumping off the roof into a kiddie pool filled high with shredded foam from a mattress I’d ripped up by hand.) I didn’t like trouble, you see, I just had a nose for action—a thrill for the outdoors, that sort of thing.
So when I discovered that I had this natural bent for fixing things, I was so excited. I was also relieved—my brain could be the one making me a living, not my brawn or bravado. I mean, sure, being a mechanic involved using my hands and muscles, too, but working on planes also involved figuring out problems and thinking about the best way to fix things.
This new direction of mine was a major step up for my family. It meant I might live to see old age, unlike practically every male in my bloodline.
Plus, none of us had ever served our country in the Armed Forces. Me joining up was an even bigger step forward for us. For me personally, joining up meant my freewheeling, garage experiment antics might have a constructive, positive outlet while I learned more skills and grew in my abilities.
More, I completely relished the traveling part of Air Force life. Mercy, the world had never seemed so big. Or beautiful, honestly.
Obviously, combat was what it was. But as things changed in all those long years, I found newer and cooler methods to indulge my thrill-seeking ways. When I was a kid, I never would’ve imagined rock climbing in the Swiss Alps would be just one of the many adventures life brought me.
But most of all, I loved the culture of performance. Of excellence. Oh, of course, there were jerks, wimps and assholes, as there are in all aspects of life, but I had the best of luck in all my deployments. The people around me inspired like nobody’s business. And so, that was my world, a world where I had a place, a duty and a status no one could take away from me.
That world all came crashing down, though, when I got into an accident that forced me to retire.
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I shouldn't want her.
But I do. And I always get what I want.
I was injured at war and discharged from the military.
My commanding officer invited me to stay with him while I get back on my feet.
I'm grateful for his help, and we've become close friends.
There's just one problem.
His daughter lives with him, and she's off the charts hot.
So is the chemistry between us, even though I try to ignore it.
She's inexperienced, but her long lashes beg me to change that.
Her curvy hips taunt me as she walks by wearing only a bikini.
She invites me to take a swim with her while he's out of town.
Swim with her? I want to swim in her.
But I can't touch her.
And I certainly can't put a baby in her.
Can I? Too late.
What will her father do when he finds out I knocked her up?
My Father's Best Friend's Secret Baby is a full length 75,000 word standalone novel. Jamie Knight promises to always bring you a happy ever after filled with plenty of heat. And never any cheating or cliffhangers!
Click here to continue reading My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby on Amazon!
Sneak Peek of I Hate You, Move In
The first book in the Hate You series is I Hate You, Move In: An Enemies to Lovers Accidental Roommate Romance. Enjoy this exclusive sneak peek!
Chapter One
Tina
“You should be living at home,” argued my dad, even as he carried a mini-fridge into my brand-new dorm room. “Why can’t you commute?”
“Daddy, we’ve been over this,” I pleaded. “I want to meet people. Plus, Kensington State College recommends that I live on campus for the first year. They said it helps freshmen transition to university life way better than if they tried it living off-campus. Or not at all,” I added, with a note of sarcasm.
I knew I should appreciate the fact that my parents were helping me move into my dorm for my freshman year of college. But I didn’t ask for their help and honestly, I didn’t want them there.
My parents were very old fashioned and that often equaled embarrassment. It was always a huge battle with them, to get them to let me do anything on my own.
I couldn’t understand it. I was eighteen, not eight. Didn’t they want me to grow up and be independent? Didn’t they want me to learn how to be an adult?
Quite frankly, I couldn’t wait to be free from their iron grip for a while. I mean, actually having a room to myself where they wouldn’t be constantly looking over my shoulder and judging me just sounded like heaven.
Not that I hated my parents or anything crazy, but you know how they can get, at least if you have the over-protective, smothering kind of parents lik
e I do. They crawl all up in your business until you can’t breathe and can’t even think.
I wanted to live on campus just so I could meet people alone, in my own space. Without my mother running my life and without having to see my father’s judgmental looks right before he locks me up, Rapunzel-style.
“So, you’ll move back home sophomore year?” Daddy asked hopefully.
He set the minifridge down next to the old wooden desk that came with the room. Someone had scratched party on into the dented surface.
“Daddy, I love you, but I need to start living on my own,” I explained for the twentieth time, as I walked over and opened the dorm’s only window. “How am I going to learn how if I don’t?”
“I could teach you,” he offered, totally serious.
“You did teach me. For eighteen years,” I corrected, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And now I’m going to put what you taught me into practice. That’s how it’s supposed to work. You’ll see. It’ll be great.”
Mom came in with an armful of my clothes. She found the dresser and started arranging my belongings, just like she did at home.
“I don’t see why you even need to go to college,” she muttered, her long, conservative dress rustling softly.
“Oh my gosh, Mom,” I said, embarrassed, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“You just need to find a good and Godly husband,” she insisted. “And you could learn to cook.”
“I know how to cook,” I corrected her, walking over to watch her organize my clothes. “You taught me, remember?”
“It’s just that, well, you’re not that good, dear,” she said, patting my cheek.
I sat down heavily on the twin bed. I didn’t feel as insulted as I probably should have by that comment. I hated cooking, anyway.
“Mom, please,” I begged. “Can we not do this? I’m already here. Do you really want to drag me away from the only chance I’ve ever had to see what life holds outside our apartment? Away from the only thing I’ve ever worked towards and pinned my hopes on? Would you seriously trade all my dreams for my return back home today?”
“Yes,” she said determinedly, not looking up from the drawer she was organizing. “Yes, I would. I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”
“I’m going to move more boxes,” I said, getting up and giving up on the conversation.
I marched outside to the parking lot to get some fresh air before I did something stupid, like snapped and screamed at her. My parents always set me on edge, especially my very religious mother, but today they were reaching new heights.
I calmed myself by thinking, They’re going home in a few hours. Just get through this and they’ll be out of your hair soon.
After saying that about 20 times, I reached my parent’s sedan. I picked up a lamp and a box of stuff for my desk. I tried to think about my class schedule and finding time to go to the book store.
I was already going to have to adjust my schedule. Half the things the college automatically signed me up for made no sense. History? Theatre? I was a business major; why would I need those classes?
Apparently, though, this was the norm. We were to learn first what the world was made of, before we ran a business in it. I guess that’s ultimately what I was here for.
When I’d visited the campus as a future applicant, we were told that it was usually chaos when the freshman arrived. And now I was seeing it for myself. The parking lot was full of other families and students and their mismatched dorm furnishings.
I had never seen so many tie-dye tapestries, except in movies. I took a little comfort in overhearing some of the other students’ eye-roll-worthy conversations with their folks.
That was, until I realized how all the other parents were actually happy that their kids were going to be in college. If anything, what was annoying to these students was that their parents smothered them with too much love and support.
Wow.
That was never really a problem I’d had. I sighed at this sad realization and moved even more quickly to shorten my time with them here.
When I got back to the small dorm room, Dad had my bed frame in pieces and the mattress lifted to the side.
“Dad! What are you doing?” I panicked.
I set the lamp and the box on the floor and hurried over to him.
“Relax,” he said. “I think there’s a screw loose somewhere. I’m just fixing it. I don’t have my tools, so I’m using this dime as a screwdriver.”
“Dad, please put my bed back together,” I said, trying to sound calm.
I didn’t want to start a fight, but he was so embarrassing. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I would hate to have a new floor mate walk by and see this mess.
“We have to pay for things like that if we break them.”
“I told you, I’m not breaking it, I’m fixing it,” he assured me. “Give me two minutes.”
My mom came over and put her small hand on my shoulder. She drew me away from my dad and over to the dresser.
“Tina, I put your underwear and bras underneath your sweaters,” she whispered. “That way, the boys can’t see them when you open the drawer.”
“Oh, my God,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples.
“What, dear?” she asked.
“Great, Mom, thanks. I’m going to the car, again. Be right back,” I said.
At this point, I really wished I had some Advil. My head was pounding, and my stress levels were through the roof. This is what my parents did to me— they made me crazy. Absolutely crazy.
I went to the car and grabbed another bag and my laptop. Then I glanced again towards the dozens of other students who were also moving in. It was utter madness on move-in day.
Across the street, one of the frat houses had a bunch of guys sitting on a couch outside with a sign that said, “You honk, we drink” and a second sign that said, “Okay, dads. We’ll take it from here.”
I hoped my father did not see that sign. He was way over protective, especially about boys. If my dad even saw me talking to a boy this early into the college process, there was no telling what he’d do.
I didn’t think he had actually put it together right away that I was going to be stuck on campus with guys. I mean, you should’ve heard him when he found out the dorms were co-ed. I thought he was going to blow a gasket.
This was my last trip from the car, and I could feel my blood pressure returning to normal as I walked back. But when I passed a dorm room that was a few doors down from mine, I heard a familiar voice.
“Okay Dad, if you insist on bringing in the fridge, I’ll take it.”
I peeked in and couldn’t believe it.
There stood Seth Foster, my least favorite person alive.
Chapter Two
Tina
I would recognize his tall form anywhere. He stood among a mess of boxes, looking over the small room.
He had his back to me. It was muscular and widened up to his broad shoulders. Seth had a swimmer’s body, all long lean muscle with huge shoulders.
Some of my girlfriends thought he was hot. But I couldn’t see it. He was too stupid to be hot.
His dad started to leave the room, presumably to go to the parking lot and get the fridge out of the car. I didn’t want him to see me, so I hurriedly starting walking.
I ended up by the bathrooms, so I hurried in. But after a moment of staring at myself in the mirror, I realized I couldn’t stay in here all day.
I had to deal with the unbelievable fact that he and I had wound up in the same place as each other, yet again. So, I left the bathroom as soon as I figured it was safe, and that Mr. Foster had already passed on his way out to his car.
When I was six years old, my father lost his management job at the steel plant, to downsizing. He had to take a lower-paying job on the line at a different factory, one that made auto-parts.
We couldn’t afford our nice house anymore and moved into an apartment complex. Seth and his family lived in the apartment
above ours. So, technically, he was my neighbor back home.
Seth and I had known each other and hated each other since we were six years old, since the first month my family moved into the apartment building. And there he was— right up close to my space.
I couldn’t believe my bad luck. This was insane. What were the odds that he would be living on the same floor as me, in the same dorm? That he would even be going to the same college?
I sighed with the same resignation as I’d had for the past two hours and started towards my dorm room again. After two steps, I stopped in my tracks. I knew my dad would freak right out if he found out Seth was here.
And he would make an absolute scene if he ran into Seth’s father.
I had to do something.
My folks had never gotten along with Seth’s parents. Both our dads worked at the auto-parts factory. Mr. Foster’s station was right before my dad’s. My dad always complained that Mr. Foster screwed up his productivity and kept him from being promoted.
My dad had always resented not being able to make it into management there. I guess it made him feel like he should stand out from his coworkers.
Seth’s parents had tried to be nice. They had brought by a casserole when we first moved in, but my parents wouldn’t even ask them inside.
There were rumors about Seth’s mom that my dad had had heard at work. I didn’t understand at the time, but my mom said that she was a bad Christian and if we let them in the apartment, it would ruin my family’s reputation.
My parents’ rudeness was noted by Seth’s dad and they had been fighting ever since. Seth had only made things worse, instead of better, but that wasn’t something I wanted to think about right now.
I rushed back into my own dorm and set my stuff down on the sterile laminate floor. I had to do something right away, before my parents saw Seth or Mr. Foster and freaked out and succeeded in making me even more miserable.