Finding Our Forever: Single Dad Romance (Stepping Stones Series Book 1) Read online

  Finding Our Forever

  A Single Dad Romance

  Copyright © 2020 by Laura Williams

  Published by

  Laura Williams

  www.authorlaurariley.com

  Cover Artist: Steamy Designs

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Model: Dane D

  Editor: RJ Locksley

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be re-produced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trade-marked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is written by a British author, and all spellings are British English.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Books by Laura Riley

  Acknowledgements

  Contact Me

  The waters are a little muddied as to when our journey began. I’ve loved you as far back as I can remember, maybe before consciousness took hold and memories formed everlasting imprints in my mind.

  My earliest memory of you is when you threw a water balloon in my face. It was meant for my older brother, but he ducked out of the way. I was five, and you were fourteen. I remember how you scooped me up when I cried. Holding me close, you dried my cheeks with your t-shirt. That’s what I remember—that’s the moment our journey began.

  You see, moments are like stepping stones. They form unique paths. Once started these paths cannot be erased, nor can you stop the journey, no matter how hard you fight it.

  This, Seth Stevens, is the stepping stone path to us.

  Finding our forever.

  Lizzie

  “—and Lizzie, in a few hours you’ll have kissed your prince and be living your happily ever after.” Chelsea sighs dramatically as she clasps the pink-dusted makeup brush to her chest. She stands like she’s holding an Oscar for the speech she just delivered about true love and fate.

  I snort out a laugh. If only life were that simple. One thing I love about my friend is her optimism. But what’s the harm in dreaming, right?

  When I don’t reply, she snaps out of her reverie and continues to add the finishing touches to my makeup.

  It’s a typical Saturday evening with my girlfriends, sisters Chelsea and Amber. We’re glamming ourselves up in their photography shop in preparation for a girls’ night out. The ‘closed’ sign hangs on the door so that we have the place to ourselves.

  Chelsea steps back. “Word has it that Seth Stevens is officially back on the market.”

  Like I didn’t know.

  Her crystal-blue eyes are like saucers as she tries to read my expression. I liken myself to a book that is half open. My hope is that I can keep an air of mystery while at the same time giving only snippets of myself away. But who am I kidding? The spine is bent back, and all my pages are open for all to see.

  My mouth drops open as I feign surprise. “Back on the market, really? I had no idea.”

  With her hands on her hips, she looks me up and down. “Mm-hmm. Really, Lizzie.” Sarcasm twists her expression.

  “I call bullshit,” Amber hollers from the back of the shop, the sound of her stiletto shoes echoing as she tidies away her photography equipment.

  I flip her the finger, which I know she’d flip back if it wasn’t for the camera and tripod she’s carrying.

  She’s right to call me on my bullshit. There isn’t much about Seth I don’t know. My brother works with him and occasionally I get snippets of information. I rake through our conversations, weeding out the unimportant stuff. I plant the seeds of knowledge and let them grow into endless possibilities in my mind.

  When I returned home from uni a year ago, Seth was all I thought about. Something about being back home and geographically closer to him made him less of a fantasy and more of a possibility, more of a reality. Cornwall isn’t a big place; I was sure to bump into him, right?

  I played out our first conversation a million times in my mind—what I’d say to him, what he’d say to me in return, the way he’d look at me. I am a firm believer that if I ask enough times Fate will answer my call. So far she hasn’t, but I’m not giving up.

  But since I’ve been back, the days have turned into weeks and the weeks into months. I no longer play out my stupid fantasies in my mind. I no longer look for him.

  However, tonight I’m flipping Fate the finger and taking matters into my own hands. Seth is out tonight and so am I. I’m going to make damn sure that our paths cross.

  Chelsea spins me around on my stool so that I’m facing the long wall-mounted mirror. She bends down and presses her cheek against mine. “Well, what do you think?”

  Wow. “I look… different.”

  I don’t normally make this much of an effort on a night out, but this evening I’m letting Chelsea doll me up. I don’t want Seth to look at me, I want him to stare. I want interest to claw at his resolve until he has no option other than to talk to me.

  Amber’s reflection joins Chelsea’s as she stands at her side. “Yes, it looks like you’re actually wearing makeup. The plain Jane schoolteacher look is getting old. Goodbye, Miss Boring. Hello, Miss Sex-ay.”

  I hold out my arms. “Well, I can’t very well teach a class of thirty teenagers dressed to the nines, can I?”

  Amber squeezes her boobs together, showing off her ample cleavage. “Why not? I think a few more kids would choose to take art if you did. Think of it like this, you’d be doing it for the good of your stu
dents.”

  I roll my eyes so dramatically that Chelsea yells at me because her carefully-placed false eyelash strip detaches from my eyelid.

  “Hold still,” she demands while gluing it back into place. My eyes have been heavily made up. I have three different shades of brown shadow on my lids. I feel like an Egyptian queen with the combo of eyeshadow, liner, and long sweeping lashes.

  Amber gives me a lopsided grin. “You know, my clothes look pretty good on you.”

  “Do you think so?” I glance down at the gold sequinned halter-neck top and black skinny jeans I’m wearing. They’re so tight they feel like a second skin. I usually dress down, whereas Amber always dresses to impress. Tonight, I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and into her shoes, literally. Black stilettos with a six-inch heel.

  Amber looks me up and down. “You look hot. I’d do you.”

  I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin, especially when I’m out with Chelsea and Amber. The sisters are beautiful, with porcelain skin, crystal-blue eyes, and flowing blonde hair. Their flawless looks are enough to intimidate the most self-assured.

  Chelsea stands with one hand on her hip and the other holding the curling irons. “Want me to style your hair?”

  I beam up at her reflection. I read on a Facebook poll that guys find curly hair sexier than straight. I don’t believe everything I read, but tonight, if I can do anything to make myself more appealing, I will. Right down to the dark red lipstick and matching nails I’m wearing.

  Once we’re ready, we call for a taxi. The company informs us that they’ll be at least forty minutes, leaving us no other option but to finish another bottle of bubbly while we wait. A little bit of liquid courage is certainly called for tonight because, without it, I’ll never get up the courage to approach Seth. I’ll sit and watch him from afar, like I usually do.

  By the time we’ve shared a bottle of bubbly and taken a dozen selfies, the taxi driver honks his horn outside. We exit the shop, laughing like a bunch of teenagers going to prom.

  Amber and Chelsea both opted for knee-length black dresses this evening, and their long blonde hair falls in soft curls down their backs. I don’t know if them matching was intentional, but it certainly makes me feel like the odd one out, like an ugly duckling besides two elegant swans.

  We cram into the backseat of the taxi. The driver stares a bit too long at us through his rear-view mirror. At traffic lights he adjusts his mirror downward, making no secret that he’s staring at our cleavages. Chelsea doesn’t notice his wandering eyes as she twirls her hair and pops her gum.

  Feeling uncomfortable, I pull out my compact mirror from my clutch bag and peer at my face. Amber imitates a blowjob—something she often does to make men feel awkward. But her lewd gesture does nothing to dissuade our driver.

  Amber averts her attention to her phone. “They’re in the Golden Kite,” she announces.

  I close my compact mirror. “And how do you know?”

  Amber grins smugly. “That’s for me to know.”

  Chelsea waggles her eyebrows. “She totally stalks Rick on social media.”

  I’ve not been formally introduced to Rick, but Chelsea said he messaged Amber on social media, and the pair met up a few weeks ago.

  Amber clucks her tongue. “Excuse you, have you seen Roderick lately? Hashtag #sorrynotsorry.”

  She definitely spends way too much time on Instagram.

  The taxi drops us off outside the club. Amber pays the fare.

  The Golden Kite is one of the town’s oldest nightclubs. The exterior is rendered white, and a golden embossed kite is printed next to the double-door entrance. It isn’t the most upmarket place in town, its clientele mostly in their thirties and older. Amber, Chelsea and I are in our mid-twenties, so there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll be among the youngest partygoers here.

  It’s not surprising that there isn’t a long queue of people waiting to get in. But I’m more than happy to slum it knowing Seth is inside.

  “IDs, ladies,” the bouncer says in a bored voice.

  After we make our way in, we leave our jackets at the front desk, where a lady hands us a numbered ticket. Now that we’re inside, we make our way up a narrow flight of stairs. My heart starts beating a little faster. What if he’s really here? Then what do I do?

  I’ve not seen Seth since I was eighteen, and I’ve often wondered how life has treated him. Will he be broader than I remember, taller? Will he have more facial hair? I remember years ago he started growing a beard. He was gorgeous then and I doubt he will have changed.

  The music hits us as soon as we enter. Strobe lighting bounces around the room, making it harder to make out faces.

  “Come on,” Amber says as she grabs my hand and pulls me toward a corner booth.

  While Amber and Chelsea browse the cocktail menu, I scan the room. And that’s when I see him—Seth Stevens is sitting at the bar with a pint in his hand. Oh, my God, he’s even better-looking than I remember. His dark brown hair is a little longer maybe, and a small section falls forward, covering his brow. Every so often, he attempts to push it back into place. His face hasn’t changed, but he has matured and he has a trim beard. His body is more toned than I remember. He has defined biceps with a tribal tattoo that wasn’t there before. He’s wearing a tight-fitting black t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.

  “Screaming Orgasm, Sex on the Beach, Slippery Nipple, or Frozen Pink Panties?” Amber asks.

  “Yes to all,” I say with a sigh. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Blonde curls dance as she shakes her head. “Cocktails. I’m reading out the list.”

  All the cocktails have a sexual reference. I’m not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but I just don’t think that way. Amber often calls me Sandy—as in the Olivia Newton-John character from Grease. The boring, cardigan-wearing wallflower. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m the hot, carefree version and all I’m missing is her black leather catsuit.

  “Oh, my God, girls, look.” An arm shoots in front of my face as Amber points toward Seth and the two men at his side. “There’s Rick.”

  While my friends swoon over him, I spare him a quick glance before returning my gaze to Seth. “He’s not my type.”

  Chelsea’s mouth falls open. “What? Tall, dark and handsome isn’t your type? Are you mad?”

  Amber grabs my arm. “There’s Seth.”

  I glance down, inspecting my painted nails. “Seth? I can’t say I noticed him.”

  She gives me a knowing look. “Let’s go order the drinks.”

  Seth’s sitting at the bar, so if I walk up there to order drinks, he’ll surely see me. If he speaks to me, what will I say? “No, you guys go ahead. I’m just going to—”

  “Just going to what? Sit here gawking at him?”

  Sounds good to me.

  Amber doesn’t give me time to reply. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bar, purposely leading me to where Seth and his friends are sitting. He’s just feet away from me now. All I need to do is reach my hand out and I could touch him. My cheeks heat, butterflies dance in my stomach, and I inwardly rehearse our introduction.

  “Thank me later,” Amber hollers over the music.

  Frowning, I turn to her. “Thank you for what?”

  With a mischievous grin, she shoves me straight into Seth.

  Tripping over my heels, I grab onto his t-shirt to steady myself. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!”

  I take a second to compose myself. Still holding his t-shirt, I take a deep breath in. His scent is woodsy and masculine, with a hint of tobacco. Abruptly, I release him.

  He turns and nods briefly. “No problem,” he says before returning to his conversation with Rick and another man.

  He didn’t even recognize me. Did he even look at me? My heart sinks.

  “Fucking seriously?” Amber says. “What do we have to do to get him to notice you, push you onto his dick?”

  I swat her arm. “Shh, they’ll hear you.”


  “Doubt it, but they’ll hear this.”

  “Hear wh—”

  She presses her index finger against my lips as the last few chords of the song play out. She waits for the small break between songs before waving her hand at the bartender. “I want three Screaming Orgasms.”

  As three heads turn our way, Amber smiles triumphantly.

  Rick’s eyes go wide as his gaze travels up and down Amber’s body. Recognition sparks in his gaze. He jumps up from his bar stool. “Need me to help you with that?”

  She blushes. “Sure. If you’re man enough for the job.”

  “Three Screaming Orgasms. No problem. I’ll carry them to your table.”

  Amber turns to Seth and the other guy. “Aren’t you gentlemen going to offer to help?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Seth examines Amber with fading interest. “Nah. I’m sure Rick’s got this.”

  Seth hasn’t looked at me once. Through me, yes. I may as well be bloody invisible. I spent hours getting dolled up, and for what? I’m kidding myself. Maybe he’s not over his ex. Maybe he’s not interested in anything tonight other than a drink with his friends.

  Dejected, I follow Amber and Rick to our booth. Rick joins us for a short while, and Amber and Chelsea cling on his every word. I attempt to listen but instead find myself watching Seth and the other guy down a couple of shots and order more beers.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I seem to have drunk your Orgasm.” Rick draws his lower lip between his teeth. “Can I get you another?”

  “No, I’m good,” I say.

  “Hey, aren’t you Cole’s little sister?”

  I don’t recognise him. I don’t recall my brother ever mentioning someone named Rick.

  He extends his hand to me. “I’m one of your brother’s business partners. Roderick Raffety.”

  I shake his hand.

  Roderick Raffety. He must go by the name Rick now. Yes, I recall Cole talking about him. Seth, Cole, and Roderick own a construction company and I remember Rick hanging around with my brother and Seth at school. Rick would turn up at our house at all hours of the night and morning. He was what one would call a loose cannon. He was good-looking then too, but I only had eyes for Seth.