Page 27 of The Single Dad

Earlier today, when Archie was closed-off and shy, I was starting to think that maybe this wouldn’t work after all. The thought filled me with conflicting feelings. In all honesty, I think I was hoping that Archie’s standoffishness this morning meant that Riley wouldn’t be a good fit after all.

But when I saw the two of them in his bedroom half an hour ago, they seemed bonded already, Archie chatting happily and smiling.

I reach out instinctively for the glass of whiskey, draining the rest of it in one swallow.

I was so determined to get her to work for me, but now that she’s here, I can’t help thinking that it might have been a bad idea. I can’t help looking for reasons to walk it back.

Because, as much as I try to pretend otherwise, I’m fucking attracted to her. Deeply so.

She’s gorgeous in an effortless way. Something about her, and the way she carries herself, draws me in, makes me want more.

She’s too young for me, though, and now that she works for me, she’s off-limits. The only thing to do is ignore her. Ignore her and let her do her job, not offer her drinks and definitely not confide in her about my whole damned life story.

I glance over at the desk, where a screensaver is playing on the waiting screens, a slideshow of generic stock images floating and fading into one another.

I wasn’t lying when I said I had some work to get done. It’s just that it’s always true; there’s always work I could be doing. It’s the perfect escape, something I can lose myself in whenever I need to. Something constant. Something easy.

I get up from the armchair, making a quick stop at the bar cart to top off my drink before settling in behind the desk, waking the computer.

Chapter 8

Cole

Seated at the kitchen table with my laptop open in front of me, the screen covered in spreadsheets of stock market trends, I have a clear view into the living room, where Riley is playing with Archie.

It’s not the best place to get some work done—I would be much more focused up in the office, where Archie’s peals of laughter won’t be able to reach. But I can’t help myself. Even when I’m working, I want to be right here.

They’re playing Twister. Fucking Twister.

Archie spins the dial, giggling gleefully as he shrieks, “Right hand green!”

In compliance, Riley, already bent over in an undignified position, contorts herself to reach for the nearest green circle.

The way she moves gives me an unbelievable view of her body, her legs stretched out, her ass on plain display. Despite the dry spreadsheets in front of me, I can feel my cock twitch in my pants.

And she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. She’s not even trying to be seductive at all, just having fun, playing with Archie.

I can’t stop glancing over at her, but it still makes me feel like a perv. Every time she bends and stretches, inadvertently showing off her best assets, I’m reminded of that brief glimpse I got of her naked body, when I went to her apartment to give her the job offer.

It’s only been a few days since she started working in the house, but every day, Archie seems to love her more. I have to admit, despite my reservations, that I’m glad to see Archie come out of his shell.

Finally, he has someone to look out for him, someone who won’t get distracted from his needs by the pressing demands of work. He has as much attention as he deserves.

But still, there’s doubt nagging in the back of my mind. I thought that if I ignored my attraction to Riley, it might diminish over time, but it’s only gotten stronger as I’ve gotten to know her.

I catch myself looking at her all the time—while she plays with Archie, or fixes him a sandwich for lunch, or shepherds him off to bed.

The small signs of her presence are all over the house. Little things, like the tiny doodles she makes on pieces of paper. It’s strange, having someone else share this space full-time with me and Archie.

Not just strange. Uncomfortable. Because every time I come into contact with evidence of Riley—a whiff of her shampoo, the sound of her laugh—it makes me want her.

Fiercely. Rabidly. It’s impossible to ignore. I’ve spent the past couple of days trying, all to no avail.

“Left hand yellow!” Archie shouts. Riley reaches her left hand for a yellow circle, her back arching.

I can’t fucking stand it anymore.

I get up, grabbing my laptop, and head into the living room just in time to see Riley unbalanced by a “left foot yellow.” She topples over with an adorable squeaking sound, then looks up at me, a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Archie cackles maniacally, delighted.

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