Page 20 of Challenged by the Single Dad

He wasn’t a total asshole. He did wait until she was safely in her vehicle and driving past him, giving him a hesitant wave, before he headed up to the house.

He was an asshole.

He knew that.

An angry, exhausted, depleted, guilt-ridden asshole.

By the time he got home, he was once again dead on his feet.

Only, he hadn’t seen Silas since that morning. So after he showered, he scooped his little boy up out of his bed and carried him to Dom’s bed. Then he tucked them both in.

Silas instantly snuggled into Dom’s arms, blinking his eyes open just barely. “Hi, Daddy.”

Dom kissed the top of his son’s head. “Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay. I love you.”

Dom’s throat grew tight. “I love you too.”

Then father and son fell asleep, one of them innocent and sweet, the other an asshole riddled with guilt, and a very inconvenient attraction to his new employee.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Dean!Throwmethatdeodorant. I can’t find mine!” Hollered some twenty-something loud-mouthed jerk right outside Chloe’s door at the hostel, waking her up from a deep sleep. Even with earplugs in, she heard that numbskull.

Then of course, whenDeanthrew the deodorant, his idiot friend couldn’t catch for shit, and the stick hit Chloe’s door with a jarringwhack.

Both boys—because face it, they were boys and probably always would be—started to chortle.

“Shit. Hopefully we didn’t wake that chick up,” one of them said.

“Sorry,” the other one said with a chuckle. “Go back to sleep.”

Growling, Chloe pulled out one earplug, then leaned over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was only eight in the morning.

Christ almighty. She didn’t start work until four.

Unfortunately, she’d never been one of those people who could fall back to sleep once she was awake. Now, she was up for the day.

Growling again, she tossed back the covers, slid into her flip-flops—because like hell was she going barefoot in a hostel—andslappedher way to the bathroom.

She had a long hot shower, even though she’d also had one last night, and took her time getting dressed. She threw her hair into two Dutch braids, grabbed her water bottle, and was out the door.

There was a yoga class at the local yoga studio that started at eight forty-five that she hoped to make. And luckily, she always kept a yoga mat in her car, should the mood to suddenly do a pigeon or deer pose strike her.

The yoga studio was not too far of a drive—nothing on the island was—and set against a gorgeous backdrop of a wildflower garden and grove of trees. The studio itself was an enormous yurt.

She parked her car and followed the masses to the front door, the butterflies in her belly increasing their intensity the closer she got.

An introvert by nature, she had to mentally prepare herself for new things. Yes, she could chat with strangers. Yes, she could go to social functions and meet people. It just took a bit more self-talk ahead of time. She would also need to then go somewhere by herself for a while to recharge before she went to work where she’d have to be with people for hours on end.

“Hello and welcome,” came the breathy voice of a beautiful blonde woman with pastel, floral sleeve tattoos and a septum piercing. “Are you new?”

Chloe swallowed and smiled. “I am, yes.”

“Well, welcome. I’m Lotus. Have you ever done yoga before?”

“Oh, yes.”

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