She doesn’t have to tell me anymore for me to understand. I’ve raised Sophie for eight years on my own with no help since the ripe old age of twenty-two. My parents still live in Ireland, and while my Scottish grandparents have a brownstone in the city, they’re well beyond retirement and too set in their own ways to help me care for her. While I love my daughter with all my heart, sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like if I’d been able to live it as a normal twenty-something single guy—doing normal single guy things.
While other guys my age spent their nights at bars and left with a different girl every night, I spent my nights at home with the same one who screamed bloody murder every time I stopped bouncing her. Other guys had nameless women dropping to their knees and sucking their cocks followed by meaningless marathon sex. For the first year of Sophie’s life, the only thing that got sucked around my apartment was my youth.
Not that being a dad stops me from getting my rocks off. I’m a father, but I’m still a guy. A willing woman isn’t hard to find. Sane women…well, that’s a different story all together.
But this girl…
When I woke up this morning, I had two objectives: take some pictures to sell for some extra cash and try to figure out how to get the black widow off my arse—not necessarily in that order. The last thing I expected was for a solution to fall in my lap by way of my overly aggressive child.
And then Laken Cavanaugh happened.
Behind the lens of my camera, I watched her long before she saw me. I studied the way she chewed on her full lips as she read from her book, the way she twirled her long, curly blonde hair around her index finger, the little line that sank deep between her eyebrows when she concentrated extra hard, and the carefree laugh that lit up her face when she called out to her son. I wouldn’t be a man if I hadn’t also noticed the tight, little yellow t-shirt she wore and the cut-off denim shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs.
I spent a good half hour trying to figure out a way to talk to her. It’d been a week since my run-in with Gloria in the conference room, and I was running out of time to ensure Sophie didn’t get kicked out of Ravenhill, and my impetuous outburst didn’t cost me my job. Luckily, the fact that my kid has a temper finally worked for me instead of landing my arse in the headmaster’s office, trying to explain why Sophie had pushed another kid.
Sophie isn’t a bad kid. I’m not a bad father. We’ve just both been through a ton of shite and are still trying to navigate our way through it all.
But back to Laken.
I’d spent all morning wracking my brain, trying to think of women who’d be a possible candidate for my fake fiancée. My problem is that I have nothing to offer them in return except for me—and that’s one offer I’m not willing to put on the table. No, I need someone who has something else to gain from this business deal. Someone who could agree to my terms, see the value for what it is, and then when the night’s over…walk away with a handshake.
That’s why Laken Cavanaugh is perfect. She’s just the type of date I need to keep Gloria off my back and my job safe. Getting her to say yes to my outrageous offer is a different situation entirely. How exactly does one proposition a woman into a fake engagement without getting smacked?
“Hi, so, I know my daughter just beat the shite out of your son, but how about you and I pretend to be engaged for a night?”
The whole idea makes me look like an arsehole. What woman in their right mind would agree to that? I have a few dollars and an in at Tate & Cane. It’s not a lot to sweeten the pot, but as long as she’s into that sort of thing, it might work. It’s not as if being on my arm is a fate worse than death. I’d be lying if I said I don’t know I possess a certain appeal to women. American women are a sucker for a foreign accent, and being a native Irishman gets me into more pussy than I know what do with.
I never go back for seconds, though. My choices don’t just affect me, they affect Sophie. I need to be smart and keep my nocturnal activities casual and strings free. However, I need to approach this in a way that won’t make her feel as if I’m buying her.
Which is exactly what I’m doing.
The perfect solution to my problem stares back at me with the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Plus, the fact that Laken has a son makes her willingness to help me more probable. I have to appeal to her maternal instincts. Make an offer she can’t refuse. One night is all I need to back up my story and make this whole mess go away. My job will be safe, Sophie’s future will be secure, and maybe if I play my cards right, the night could even end with this girl on her knees.
Hey, a guy can hope.
There’s only one way to do this. If I don’t come right out and ask, I’ll never see her again. I may get slapped, or who knows, she may go for it. Either way, I have nothing to lose. Digging in my pocket, I hand Sophie a couple of dollar bills and tell her and Preston to go play some video games. Laken eyes me curiously, as if she doesn’t trust me.
Smart girl.
“So, how about you let me really make this whole thing with Sophie and Preston up to you.”
She motions to the melted bowl of ice cream and smirks. “What do you mean? Isn’t this your grand apology? Fattening my ass with ice cream and whipped cream?”
You have no idea what else I could do with that whipped cream, Laken Cavanaugh.
I glance down to appear genuine. “Well, it’s a start. But I’m thinking appreciation on a larger scale.”
“I’m listening.”
I look up in enough time to see Laken twirl her tongue around the straw of her soda and all the blood in my body rushes south. Clearing my throat, I swallow hard and continue. “Well, you mentioned that you work a low-paying job, and you’re putting yourself through grad school, right?”
“Go on…”
“Well, it just so happens that I have this problem.”
She smacks the table with her palm and points a finger at me. “A catch. I knew it. There’s always a catch. Is this where you whip out your camera and ask me to pose for a few pictures that’ll nevereverbe posted on the internet?”
Cocking my head at her, I sigh heavily. “Are you going to listen or continue to insult me?”
