The Single Dad Arrangement Read online

  She’s a natural at this. I watch her shout to start the game, and the kids scatter, and she straightens. Now, my thoughts trip back to the place they skirted around in the hallway.

  Because just based on the way she moves, the way her hips sway and she stretches her arms comfortably, I can tell she’s at ease in her own body. Sexy in a simple, uncomplicated way—she’s not showing off or trying to lure anyone in. This is just how she is, naturally.

  And it’s damn fucking attractive. I can’t stop thinking about what she must look like without the Party Princess getup. I can’t stop thinking about how I’d like to tear all that off her, catch her alone in my room and toss that dress on the floor, then kneel in front of her and press a kiss to her soft belly, my mouth moving lower as she drops her hands to bury them in my hair and gasp in that sexy, soft voice she has…

  Then, almost as though she can feel my stare, Tilly turns around and flashes me a grin across the yard. It’s a cocky, off-center grin. The kind of smile that tells me she knows exactly what kind of trouble she’s causing.

  I grit my teeth. Any more of this and I’m going to have to find a quiet corner to sit in until my body calms the fuck down. Until all the blood in my head stops racing straight to my dick.

  Beside me, Bill from accounting coughs and casts an eye around the yard for his wife. “Damn. If I’d known you hired such fucking hot entertainment, Killian, I’d have come to this party solo. Please tell me the princess is staying for an adults-only show after this.”

  All that blood racing south reroutes in an instant and pounds through my temples instead. I ball my fists and round on him. “What the hell is wrong with you, Bill?”

  “Whoa.” He takes a step back, hands raised, his eyes wide with surprise. “Hey, I was just joking, Kill.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I spit.

  To my annoyance, his surprise melts into something worse. A sort of confident, knowing smirk. “Oh I see how it is. Party girl’s already spoken for. My bad.”

  “That’s not—” I sputter to a halt and clear my throat hard. “It is not appropriate to speak about women like that, Bill. She’s just doing her job. How would you like it if someone said that kind of shit about your daughter once she’s all grown up?”

  He scowls, the smirk melting away. “You know, you used to be fun, Kill. Back before all this crap.” He waves a hand at the yard.

  “This crap? My daughter happens to be the most important thing in my life,” I respond, voice pitched low. A couple of the other guys glance our way, but I don’t care. I glare at Bill. “Not my fault you didn’t change at all when you had a child. You should figure out what’s really important to you, Bill.”

  He storms away from me, stung. I couldn’t care less. I watch him beeline into the house toward the fridge where I keep beers for the adult party guests. Let him stew, who cares.

  One of the other guys, a father I don’t know too well, one of Lina’s friends from school, sidles up to me. “Thanks for saying something,” he murmurs. “I think most of us wanted to.”

  I force out a laugh then, and shake my head, before I move away from the cluster of guys. What the hell was that, anyway? I know Bill likes to say that kind of shit. Normally it doesn’t get to me.

  But hearing him say it about her…

  I glance across the yard to Tilly. She’s joined in the game she started, and is currently being chased by Lina, the latter of whom has a plastic sword in her hand she’s brandishing with an almost tribal yell. I swallow hard, throat dry, unable to tear my gaze from Tilly’s face, lit by the bright sun overhead, her mouth open in an ecstatic laugh, her blue eyes flashing.

  She is fucking gorgeous. Perfect.

  At that moment, our eyes lock again, and she flashes me a wink, right there in front of half the yard. At that moment, I know in my gut I’m fucking screwed.

  2

  Tilly

  God, he is so fucking hot. I can’t get the refrain out of my head as I bustle through the yard, fulfilling my last on-duty act as the official Birthday Party Princess of the day—the glamorous task of cleaning up all the extra supplies I hauled here with me.

  It’s all fun and games when there are dozens of screaming kids playing with the plastic swords, crowns and stuffed dragon toys you brought with you. It’s less fun when you have to stomp around the yard in a now-stained and torn party gown cleaning them all up.

  My boss is going to kill me. Trish doesn’t like it when I mess up the gowns I wear even a little bit, let alone ruin half the hem like I’ve done to this one. But I can’t help myself. There’s just something so energizing and addictive about being around children—the way the excitement on their tiny little faces is contagious. They want to play, and it makes me want to have as much fun as they’re having, so I jump right in with them, unable to resist.

  Trish is going to dock my payment for today over it, I’m sure—she’ll charge me the cost for tailoring the dress, or for buying a new one if she can’t fix it—but it was worth it. Worth it to see the look on little Lina’s face as she caught and tackled me to the ground, tagging me in the last game we finished.

  I love kids, and I try not to play favorites, but sometimes there are the ones who just bubble over with life and stand out more than the others.

  That’s Lina.

  I’m smiling all over again thinking about the day as I finish rounding up the toys into my oversized garbage bag, and turn around to scan the yard for any I missed.

  That’s when I see him. Killian, standing near the doorway, bidding the final few party guests farewell. Most of the kids left after we did the cake, but a few are still refusing to leave, and their parents are carrying them out in twos and threes. Lina, I know, is already sound asleep up in her bedroom, although it took a colossal effort for her father to convince her to nap, I noticed.

  My heart skips, looking at him. My belly tightens, and suddenly, this princess dress feels itchy and constrictive. Not at all what I want to be wearing in front of a man like him.

  Because fucking hell, Killian Flore is probably one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. Older than me, for sure—maybe mid-30s?—but he’s got that touch of gray thing going for him, and the sort of three-day-old stubble that just makes me want to cup his cheeks in my hands and yank him into a kiss, so I can feel how scratchy and rough it is against my smooth skin. His gray eyes call me the same way—piercing, intense. Every time I glanced his way during the party today, I caught him staring at me. And where most men would look away or pretend they weren’t looking, Killian just held my gaze, unafraid.

  That is the stare of a man who knows his way around a bedroom. And it’s a man I’d like to get to know better, in ways that would be wildly inappropriate to bring up at a child’s birthday party.

  But I can’t help it. He makes my knees weak just to look at him, so I can only imagine what he’d do with those strong hands of his—if he’d push me up against the wall and tear this dress off before he started kissing me, claiming me, taking me for his own…

  I swallow hard and tighten my thighs for a second, as if that will help contain the throbbing ache there. What is wrong with me?

  I mean, yes, I like to get down and dirty in the bedroom—the guys I’ve hooked up with in the past know that all too well. And it has been a really fucking long time since my last hookup—working this party gig leaves me little time for extracurricular activities. Tricia is a taskmaster, and she does not accept excuses from anyone in her squad of princesses.

  Yeah, it’s kind of a ridiculous job for a 25-year-old woman to hold down, but it pays way better than you’d expect, and the hours are flexible, so I can take on as many extra party gigs as possible to finish paying off my student loans faster. Plus, it’s really not so bad doing the events—I love kids, I love pink, I even like dressing up and acting like a goof for a while. And it’s all experience, after all. Inspiration for what I really want to do.

  Write children’s books.

&nb
sp; That’s the real reason I’m here. The real reason I can’t screw up this job, not any more than I already have—I’m in hot water with Trish for how much extra I cost in dry cleaning fees. Because I need this money to pay off my loans, to build a little nest egg to live on, so that I can finally do what I really need to do.

  Write stories for girls like Lina. Stories about girls like Lina, so I don’t just have to tell her it’s okay for her to be a Princess Knight, or a Knight, or a Warrior or anything else in the world she imagines she can be—or the boys, too. I want to show them, through the stories I’ll write, through epic adventures that send kids like Lina to amazing places that build their imaginations. I can share hopeful, exciting stories with kids all over the world, not just the few I get to meet at these events, too.

  That’s why I finally force myself to tear my eyes off Killian.

  Because as hot as he is, and as much as I need to get some right now, I have other priorities in life. And I’m pretty sure it’s a big fat inappropriate no-no to give my number to the dad who hired me for his kid’s birthday party today.

  Maybe.

  Probably.

  Even if he did say he was single.

  If Tricia finds out, she’d kick your ass, I remind myself. That’s when I hear a familiar voice calling out.

  “Princess Tilly!”

  I turn toward the door at the same time as Killian, and we both move forward on instinct as Lina totters out of the house stifling a huge yawn. “What’s the matter, honey?” I ask her, grinning as I kneel down and open my arms.

  She topples right into them. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Really?” I pull back to catch her eye, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You look pretty tired to me, Princess Lina.”

  “I’m… not.” She stifles another yawn. “Don’t need a nap today. Can we play dragons again?” The more she talks, the more animated she’s becoming.

  Then I sense heat, and catch a whiff of cedar-scented cologne, as Killian kneels beside me. “Tilly can’t play dragons anymore, Lina. She’s cleaning up, see?” He points to the bag in my hand. As he does, his shoulder brushes against mine, and a chill runs down my arm, just from the faint touch. “It’s time for your Birthday Princess to go and celebrate another girl’s birthday, okay? Her job here is done.”

  “But… but…” Lina’s lower lip wobbles dangerously. “I don’t want her to go! Stay here, Tilly. Play one more game, please?”

  “Lina.” Killian’s voice goes serious, but I interrupt before he can continue.

  “I’d love to play one last game with you, Lina.” I wink at her. Then I glance over her head to her father. His eyebrows shoot upward, and he rests his hand on my shoulder. His skin feels warm—no, hot to the touch. Like he could burn me alive. But I feel like a moth to the fucking flame—all I want to do right now is let him.

  I lean into him a little, without even realizing it, as he speaks. “Are you sure?” His eyebrows lower with concern. “I don’t want to keep you too late; I know you’ve got a real life to go back to.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” I flash him another half-smile, and I hope he can’t tell how much desire it contains. “I’m happy to.” I turn to wink at Lina. “I love playing dragons too, you know.”

  “See, Dad? Told you she’s cool,” Lina responds with an eye-roll as she stomps over to my bag and withdraws a sword.

  Killian stifles a laugh and pushes off my shoulder to stand, before he offers me a hand. I hesitate, but only for a split second. When I take his hand in mine, his palms feel rough against my skin, and his fingers engulf mine—his hand practically wraps around mine twice over. I catch my breath in surprise, my heart pounding in my chest.

  I draw my hand back from his just in time, before I do something stupid.

  “Don’t let her keep you here too long,” Killian jokes, stepping away.

  Then I do it anyway. The something stupid. “Why don’t you play with us?”

  He hesitates. Glances over his shoulder. But there are no other guests in the yard, and I can’t see any kids lingering in the living room beyond the big glass doors. It looks like the party has cleared out while the three of us were out here in the yard.

  “Yeah, Daddy!” Lina grins and tosses him a sword. He catches it in one hand. “You can be the knight! Tilly is the princess, and I’ll be the dragon.”

  I laugh, and to my surprise, Killian does, too.

  “All right,” he says. “Teach me how to play?” His eyes lock on mine.

  I hold his gaze, in spite of the pounding pulse that races in my ears. It’s hard to remember the speech I give day in and day out, so many times I’ve woken up and caught myself explaining this game in my sleep, even. Yet somehow, standing in front of him, I lose track of the words. I clear my throat, but Lina beats me to it.

  “The dragon hides the princess somewhere. The knight has to chase the dragon, and if you can catch me,” Lina adds with a sassy grin, “then I have to give you a clue about where the princess is hiding. The knight only wins if you manage to free her.”

  Killian still holds my eye, and he’s grinning now. A dangerous smile. The kind that makes me aware of every pulse of my heart, and the tightening, pulling sensation behind my belly button, telling me he’s trouble.

  Then again, so am I. I grin right back. “Still want to play?”

  “More than ever.” He winks.

  “Close your eyes,” Lina tells him. He does, and she grabs my hand, dragging me across the yard to a spot to hide me in. We’ve been playing all day, so most of the obvious hiding spots have been used up already. But Lina takes me to one of the trickier ones—behind an old swing set, a wooden one that looks hand built, though it’s seen some wear and tear over the years to judge by the state of the sagging wood.

  She pushes me into the corner, where bushes conceal me from one side and the play structure from the other. All I can see of the yard now is a little sliver between the bush and the playground set. But I can still hear plenty, as Lina roars at her father, then bursts into giggling laughter, circling the yard.

  I listen to Killian shout in his best imitation of a knightly accent—a fairly terrible fake British accent, I have to admit. I press my hand over my mouth to stifle laughter—even without seeing him, just the thought of what he must look like right now, how goofy he’ll act for his daughter’s sake, is funny.

  Funny, and attractive as hell. He’s a good father, Killian.

  One more reason I should not complicate his life. I’m not looking for a family or a husband right now. I mean, I want one eventually, of course. Who doesn’t? But I want to put my career in motion first. I want to start writing books, selling them. Then I’ll hunt for husband material, someone to have kids with.

  I don’t mind at all if my future someday-husband has kids. Especially not a sweet little girl as adorable as Lina. But this… This all would distract me way too much right now.

  But I can’t help the stupid grin I’m wearing. It stretches from ear-to-ear as I listen to Lina roar, and then Killian shout with fake rage as he apparently misses an attack he launched on her. Then his voice changes. He gets more serious-sounding. I hear Lina shriek with laughter, and it grows higher-pitched as Killian shouts about how he’ll tickle the truth from her.

  I can’t help myself. I lean forward to peer around the playground and watch. It takes all my effort not to laugh too, as I watch the two of them rough-housing, Lina still trying to bite and blow flames at her father, insisting he’s burned now. He shields himself with an arm and claims that he has a fire-proof shield. Then he tickles her again, and she laughs harder, doubled over, until she finally relents, gasping.

  “Okay, okay, one clue,” Lina pants. Her father relents just long enough for her to say something.

  But it won’t matter what sort of clue she gives, I realize. Because as he stops tickling her, he turns his head, looks straight at me, as though he could feel my gaze burning into him.

  Maybe he could. I haven�
��t exactly been subtle about all the staring.

  Still. I duck back behind the playground, my heart racing. Lina finishes her clue, and Killian heads off, pacing around the yard. I can tell he’s stalling, delaying. Lina taunts him from where she lies on the ground, defeated. But as he stalks closer to the playground, his footsteps now audible on the crunchy leaves near the bushes to my right, her laughter turns to groans.

  “You’re cheating,” she mumbles.

  “I haven’t found anyone yet!” he protests.

  Then he takes one more step, and rounds the playground, squeezing between the bushes and the wooden structure so we’re face-to-face. Nose to nose, really. I tilt my head back to gaze up at him, hoping he can’t hear my heartbeat, or the way I gasp in a little gulp of air like I’m drowning. With that breath comes his scent, rich and full now that we’re standing this close—close enough that his stomach brushes against mine, and his hands reach up to cup my biceps, trail up them to rest on my shoulders.

  “I think I found you,” he whispers, and his breath ghosts across my lips, tasting like promises. Like mint and that heady, heavy scent of his, and something else.

  Danger.

  “I think you did,” I agree, tilting my head to consider him, our gazes locked. This close, I can see little flecks of gold in his stormy gray eyes. The sight does funny things to my stomach, makes it tense. My thighs quiver, and I already know my panties are getting wet.

  Fuck.

  “What happens now?” he asks in a low, rumbling voice that pulses through my body every bit as forcefully as my heart rate right now.

  “Now…” I lift an eyebrow. “The knight wins. He’s rescued his princess.”

  “His princess, hmm?” Killian arches a single eyebrow too, a playful grin dancing around his mouth. His lips are thin but broad, and the way they curl at the edges makes me watch them too closely, struggling to tear my gaze away. “I do like the sound of that. And after the rescuing—”