Page 22 of Enemy Daddy Next Door

I remember last year when Aileen came back after leaving her family ten years prior. Rearing her ugly head back into the lives of the girls she abandoned for her own selfish desires. Every time I saw Kent, he looked like a terrified chihuahua. A storm cloud seemed to linger over their house. Then, when Aileen left again, the clouds parted, revealing the beautiful blue California sky.

It’s foolish to assume the storm cloud didn’t leave any damage in its wake.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why she couldn’t possibly want to – to know me.” Amy shakes her head. “That thing you said about your father never loving you or never being proud of you. I don’t think I’ve ever put words to that feeling until just now.”

I can’t watch her fall to pieces like this. Amy is so kind and sweet. So full of goodness. How could her mother ignore that?

Amy begins to cry. She covers her face, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

I slide closer to her and touch her shoulder. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“I just…god, why am I crying?” she asks, the judgment of herself clear in her voice.

“Because you needed to cry. That’s alright.” Until Jessica, tears to me were abhorrent. Mostly because tearfulness was not allowed when I was a child. In my quest to give Jessica the love and life I did not have, I have welcomed her tears. Every one of her emotions is welcomed in our home. Consequently, I feel the same about the people around me. Just because I’m a businessman who sleeps around doesn’t mean I can’t see the true range of people’s emotions.

I rub Amy’s shoulder, my thumb digging into her bare shoulder. I want to be closer. I want to pull her into my arms and…

It’s wrong. Especially when she’s crying.

But I can’t ignore electricity.

“Do you want a hug?” I ask. It comes out more awkward than I’d like it to.

Thankfully, Amy nods with vehemence and collapses toward me. I don’t have time to question how to position my arms. I just wrap her up in a tight embrace and whisper, “It’s okay. You cry it out.”

She buries her face in my arm and weeps. God, the top of her head is right there. Her beautiful swirls of caramel hair…I’d love to press my nose into it and breathe in deeply.

I rub her upper back. “You’re okay, Amy. I promise, you are okay.”

Amy’s sobs abate and she lifts her head. The rims of her eyes are red, lips swollen, cheeks glistening with tears.

So fucking beautiful.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She’s so close I can feel her words tickling my chin. “I needed that.”

“Of course. I…” I can’t take it anymore. That gut impulse is back, the one that invited her down to sit with me out of my control. That was innocent.

This impulse, though, is much worse.

Because this one is pushing me to kiss her.

So, I do.

7

AMY

Hunter Ricks is kissing me.

I repeat, Hunter Ricks is kissing me?! I can hardly believe it or comprehend how this has happened. One second, I’m sobbing in his arms (how embarrassing) and the next, his lips are pressed against mine in the most wonderful kiss I’ve ever had.

It’s hard to describe what makes it so wonderful. Perhaps it’s the way his arms are wrapped around me, not willing to let me go. Or the way he tilts his head minutely in order to make me feel the depth of his passion.

Or maybe it’s just because I wanted this so goddamn bad.

Hearing him open up to me stirred my insides more than I can describe. I had Hunter all wrong. He isn’t just a sex-starved man who has the maturity of a frat boy. He’s complicated. Has pain he’s trying to undo. It made me like him so much more.

In fact, it made me want him.

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