Page 11 of Daddy's Little Treat

This literary work is fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or establishments is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 9798388165886 (print)

CHAPTER 1

KELSEY

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss as I rush to the front door of my daughter’s elementary school.

It’s parent-teacher conference night, and for once, I meant to get somewhere on time. But just as I was leaving, my coworker came to me, almost in tears, and begged for my help because she found a glitch in her program that messed up all of her numbers. Since I was the only Senior Business Analyst left in our department, I stayed late to help her, which led me to this moment right here: running through the Kedron Elementary School parking lot while trying to juggle my keys, coffee cup, and oversized purse. My only saving grace is that I decided to wear my flats this morning, instead of my ankle boots.

A cool September breeze blows my curly brown hair across my face, temporarily blinding me just as I make it to the door. With a frustrated groan, I tuck my coffee cup into the crook of my arm and try to get one hand free to brush my hair away. However, I’ve never been very good at balancing hot liquids, and it immediately tips over, splashing a near-scalding Americano on my hand and causing me to drop my car keys.

Completely fed up with this bitch of an evening, I can’t stop the following words that spew from my mouth. “Fuck me in the asshole!”

“Well, if you insist.”

The stinging of my hand is forgotten as I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of a deep, baritone voice coming from right behind me. I stare at the door handle two feet in front of me and lament over how close I was to avoiding making an absolute fool of myself this evening. Not only did an adult overhear my exclamation, but I’m onschool grounds.So some poor, innocent child could’ve overheard my. . . well, let’s just call itcolorful language.

After I spend a full three seconds contemplating every decision I’ve made in my life that’s led to this point, I screw my eyes shut, take a deep breath, and turn my head so I can respond over my shoulder. “Dear God, please tell me you’re not the principal.” My face is scrunched, and my words are hushed as I now realize people are within earshot.

There’s a beat of silence before the other person fails to hold back an amused huff, then says, “Young lady, I think you better come to my office.”

Seriously! Well, let’s just skip the lube and foreplay so you can really make it hurt!

My heart practically stops, and I whip around, my eyes popping open. “I’m so sorry! But I can explain! You see, I–” My words die on my lips as I finally get a good look at the person—scratch that—themanstanding behind me.

He’s about six feet tall, and since I’m average height, I have to tilt my chin up to make eye contact with him. And what eyes they are! They’re a deep blue, almost like the summer night sky, and they have me spellbound as they assess me in an intrigued manner. His cheekbones are high and sharp, like a model’s, and his lips are perfectly shaped and curled up on one side. Another breeze floats by and teases his fashionably cut, thick, russet hair, ruffling the longer strands on top of his head.

My gaze drifts down past his neck—side note, how can aneckbe hot? Jesus, did this guy step out of a wet dream?—to see the tiniest bit of a black tattoo creeping across the top of his right collarbone. His chest and torso are solid, obviously toned and muscular, but with a rounded softness to him that screams he’d give the best naked snuggles. I vaguely wonder what his workout regimen must be to maintain that type of physique. Maybe he’s a runner or does free weights? Either way, he’s got a sexy dad bod I want to get my hands on.

I’m finally snapped out of my trance by his rich, throaty laugh. I blink several times to bring myself back to the present, and the gorgeous man runs a hand through his wavy locks. “Nah, I was just messing with you. I’m not the principal.” When his mouth settles into an easy smile, I get a flash of his straight, white teeth. Before the embarrassment of being teased sets in, he reaches around me to grab the door handle. “Here, let me get that for you.”

I pause for a second to assess him, trying to gauge his intentions. Then, blowing more hair out of my face, I walk inside the building and sass him, “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

He bellows a laugh and shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.” Just as I brush past him, he leans down to whisper in my ear. “But still, you better be careful with that dirty mouth of yours, baby girl. There are tiny, little, innocent ears around here that pick up on everything.”

Our proximity lets me feel the heat of his body and smell the soft, woodsy scent coming off him. His cologne, plus the warmth of his breath next to my ear, sends a delicious shudder along my spine.

I tuck my chin into my chest as a blush rises up my neck, making my cheeks burn in a way that rivals the dull sting on my hand. With my head down, I peer up through my lashes and my mouth opens, allowing my words to smoothly roll out as if he pulled them from me, “Yes, sir. I’ll be more careful.”

He makes a strangled noise and mutters something that sounds like: “Fuck me.”

Unsure if I heard him correctly, I lift my head with a blink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

He has a slightly bewildered look on his handsome face, but he quickly shakes his head and schools his expression. Clearing his throat, he answers, “It was nothing. Never mind. Let’s just get inside.”

I step farther into the building and grimace under the harsh fluorescent lights; my eyes have always had a difficult time adjusting from dark to light.

I think our conversation has ended, so I’m a little surprised when the man asks, “What classroom are you headed to?”

“My daughter, Katie, is in Ms. Knight’s class.” I finally slip my keys inside my purse and adjust the strap to sit properly on my shoulder.

“Oh,” he says, perking up a bit. “That’s actually where I’m headed too. My son, Tommy, is in Ms. Knight’s class.”

“You’re Tommy’s dad?” I look at him again, and something clicks in my brain. If I picture him in a baseball cap, I definitely remember the man. “I remember you now,” I say aloud. “Didn’t our kids play T-ball together last spring?”

“Yeah, that seems about right,” he agrees with a thoughtful nod. “I do remember seeing you and your husband at the ballfield a few times.”

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