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

  I’m floored by her words, the honesty, the pain. I still hate her, but I also pity her. I don’t know what possesses me, but I stand and place a hand on her stomach, knowing new life is only inches away. “Get help, Anna, don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Barry loves me.”

  “I’m not doubting he does, but he’s also going to love the baby. You’re going to have to get used to being second best, because the moment your child is born into the world, he or she should be the most important person in your lives.”

  Anna’s eyes go wide, and her lips begin to tremble. “I miss you, Seth, I wish things could have been different.”

  I wish I could say the same and mean it, but the truth is, I’m glad she’s out of my life, out of Ellie’s life.

  “Me too,” I lie, in the hope she’ll fuck off to Australia and never look back.

  “I meant what I said though, I need the money.”

  “Why do you need money? Barry is loaded.”

  Her eyes leave mine, and it’s as though she looks through me.

  “You’re gambling again, aren’t you?”

  She runs her fingers through her hair. “I can’t help it, I’ve been really low recently.”

  “Low? How can you be low? You’re moving to Australia and you’re pregnant.”

  She glances down at the baby bump. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  It’s the first time in fifteen months I’ve felt an emotion that isn’t hatred for this woman. I feel sorry for her and the child she’s carrying. Anna may not know it, but she’s traveling down a road of destruction and she’ll only leave casualties in her wake. Another guy she’ll run away from, another baby she’ll leave motherless.

  Seth

  I don’t allow Anna the power to get into my headspace. I do all I can to block her out.

  When I get to work the following day, I find Lizzie alone in the loft room, staring at three lines of blue paint. God, she looks hot. She’s wearing a baggy black t-shirt and a pair of tight-fitting black trousers. Her ass looks amazing.

  I attempt to sneak up behind her, but the floor creaks and she turns. Her hair is wild, the kind of wild I’d imagine after a serious sex session.

  I adjust my trousers. Nonsexual thoughts, Seth.

  She sweeps her hair up in her hands, pulls it into a low ponytail and secures it with a hair tie from her wrist. “I can’t decide which colour.”

  I nudge her aside and take a look at the colours. I raise a brow. “They’re exactly the same.”

  She shakes her head and begins pointing to the lines of paint. “No, that’s duck egg, that’s turquoise, and that one is aqua.”

  I squint. “Really? They look virtually the same.”

  She playfully nudges me back. “You would say that.” She looks past me and down. “No Ellie today?”

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I blow out. “No, Darcy has taken her shopping to pick out her school uniform.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “It is,” I agree, but I really wanted to take Ellie. The problem is, with how my hours fall I don’t know when I’ll get time. The uniform shop is attached to a small boutique in town and is by appointment only. Darcy was lucky to snag a last-minute cancellation. The next available appointment would have been the week before Ellie started back at school. That wouldn’t leave me enough time to iron in her name tags and return items that didn’t fit her right.

  Lizzie looks back to the wall. “So, which colour?”

  I press my index on the middle. “That one.”

  She frowns. I’m sure she knows I picked one at random. “Why that one?”

  I shrug. “Because I think it’s nicer than the other two colours. Happy?”

  “No, which colour do you prefer? And why?”

  I grab her waist and lift her from her feet. She laughs as I march her in the direction of the large window and kiss the end of her nose. With the reflection of the sun on her face, her eyes sparkle up at me.

  “What time are the painters coming?” she asks.

  I scuff my shoe on the floorboard. “That’s what I came to tell you, they’re not.”

  She scratches the top of her arm. “I don’t understand.”

  “Cole was meant to be sorting it. I guess he didn’t.”

  Her shoulders drop and she gazes at the brown plastered walls.

  “I’m sure they’ll be here tomorrow.” I hope I sound confident. I sure as shit don’t feel it. If the painting is delayed, then the floor will be. We need to be finished by the end of the week.

  I haven’t got much snagging to do. I guess I could work a paint brush. “What about if we painted the walls?”

  She points between us. “As in me and you?”

  I grab the waistband of her trousers and pull her into me. She doesn’t resist, instead wraps her hands around my waist.

  It feels nice, natural between us. I hold her. She feels so good in my arms.

  “Okay. I can do that,” she says. “I’ve got to drop by work first to check on my art supplies and rearrange some displays, but once I’m done, I don’t see why not.”

  Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I release Lizzie and we stand apart. Rick’s gaze bounces between us and he snickers. He holds his hands in the air. “I ain’t saying nothing.”

  I flip him the finger. “Ha, ha.”

  “So I managed to get hold of Donald, the owner of the painting company. He said Cole didn’t pay the invoice from the last job.”

  It’s not like Cole not to pay an invoice. “Really?”

  “Not Cole personally, there was a mixup between the accountants. Anyway, I’ve got to go to the bank and withdraw some cash from the business account.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Great, more hold-ups.”

  “I could go to the school another day,” Lizzie suggests. “We can make a start on the painting right away if it’ll help?”

  Rick looks around the loft room. “I’m not going to lie, it will give the job a push forward. The plaster will soak up a few coats of paint before you’re happy with the finish.”

  “I’ll take Lizzie to the hardware store, we’ll pick up a big tub of base coat and a few tubs of duck egg.”

  “Aquamarine,” Lizzie corrects.

  Rick waves his hands dismissively and heads back down the stairs.

  My keys jangle as I yank them from my trousers pockets. “Aquamarine it is.”

  The drive to the hardware store is nice. We don’t talk, but we hold hands at traffic lights. I love how her hands feels in mine. Her skin is soft and smooth. Makes me feel a little self-conscious knowing mine are rough and dry from the hands-on work I do. I hope she doesn’t mind.

  I reverse-park in one of the trade parking bays and shut off the engine. “Two days, Lizzie.”

  She looks up from our entwined fingers. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I rub the inside of her palm with my thumb. “I have two days left on the job, then you’re no longer a client.”

  Not sleeping with a client is a big deal. We took on a job at the Bull’s Head pub in town a little over three years ago. Cole started seeing Gail, the landlady. Needless to say the invoice was halved, our profit was slashed, and we took on additional work at no extra cost. I truly believe that mixing business with pleasure is a recipe for disaster. Plus, I’d never live it down after all the shit I gave Cole for getting involved with Gail.

  Lizzie giggles, squeezing my fingers. “I’m looking forward to our meal.”

  “Not as much as I’m looking forward to my dessert.”

  Blushing, she swats my arm. The hardware store is quiet. It’s nice, as we have time to look around. We find an assistant on the painting desk. Lizzie is still indecisive as to which colour to choose, so decides to have her own colour made up. The assistant mixes a bit of this and a bit of that before Lizzie approves.

  We leave the shop with two tubs of base coat, blue emulsion, paint tubs, rollers, paint brushes, and some edgi
ng tape. I can’t say I’m a fan of painting, but I am looking forward to getting my hands dirty with Lizzie.

  We arrive back to her house and hurry up the stairs. We pass Rick on the landing as he continues to plaster the walls. He nods his head in acknowledgment. “I’ve sorted it. The painters will be here tomorrow.”

  Fantastic news. I’ll be finished with the job before I anticipated. I’ll have the snagging done by the afternoon, then I’m free the rest of the week.

  It doesn’t take us long to set our workstations up. Lizzie suggests working opposite ends so we’ll meet in the middle. I don’t like the idea of working too far away from her, but the idea of us getting closer together the more we paint spurs me on to paint quicker.

  I switch on the radio on my phone, place it in centre of the room and it blasts out some tunes. It has the desired effect on Lizzie’s ass, which she sways in time to the music, but the opposite effect on her. She doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even look at me.

  I turn around a few times, hoping to make eye contact. She’s completely oblivious, rolling the roller up and down. I’m surprised how much of the wall she’s covered.

  I dip my brush into the paint. When I lift it up, it drips onto the floor. I lift the brush behind my head and flick the brush in her direction. Blobs of white paint mottle her black t-shirt and hair. She stands still. The roller doesn’t move an inch.

  She turns slowly. “You did not just flick paint at me.”

  I take a step towards her. “What are you going to do if I did?”

  She takes slow, calculated steps in my direction. She’s like a tiger about to pounce.

  That’s right, baby, keep coming. She waves the roller in front of my face. I grab the fluffy head and, using the long pole, pull her closer. Our bodies are inches apart. Her breathing has increased.

  “Look at the mess you’re making,” I say, placing my paint-covered hand on her t-shirt, right underneath her breast. I made sure not to touch her there. I want my first time touching her breasts to be memorable.

  She drops the roller to the floor and looks at the handprint. “You’re in so much trouble.”

  I walk forwards. She walks back until her ass is pressed firmly against the newly painted wall.

  “See what I mean, Lizzie? Look at the mess you’re making.”

  Lizzie

  I gulp. My heart is beating so fast in my chest. After a few long seconds of caging me between his arms, he smiles, retreating to the opposite side of the room.

  I glance down, pulling my t-shirt up for a better look. Seth’s handprint has stained the material directly over my stomach. I peel my jeans off the wet wall and peer over my shoulder at my butt, which is now smeared in white paint. Great, two items of clothing I won’t be able to wear again after today.

  Narrowing my eyes, I look over at Seth, whose back is toward me. He can’t even face me, the coward.

  “You’ve ruined my clothes,” I call, biting back a smirk. “I’m sending you the dry-cleaning bill.”

  He waves his arm dismissively. “You should be thanking me.”

  I raise my brows. This should be good.

  “Wearing all black made you look like Catwoman. The paint adds”—he pauses, as if thinking of the right word—“character.”

  “Character. Right.”

  His shoulders rise and fall. No doubt he’s laughing. Still, he stands resolute, attempting to look as though he’s taking his work seriously. I look at the small amount of base coat that he’s applied and surmise there’s more paint on me than the wall he’s working on.

  I crouch down, retake the roller, and continue to paint. The music blares and I force myself to relax, swaying slowly in time. I can see Seth in my periphery checking me out, yet I don’t turn. I can’t.

  What’s wrong with me? The guy I’ve wanted since forever wants me. I should be throwing myself at him, but I can’t. Something is holding me back. It feels as though I’ve placed him on a pedestal, one too high for me to ever be able to reach. Damn it, I’m ruining this before it’s even begun.

  He’s removed his t-shirt. Sweat shimmers on his broad back. My gaze moves down to his tapering waist and his ass. Even in his work trousers, it looks pretty fine. He turns his head. He must have noticed me checking out his ass, as he gives it a little wiggle. My gaze meets his. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to—the intensity of his stare says it all. He winks and I look away.

  I want nothing more than for Seth to remove my clothes, for his hands to explore every inch of my body. I imagine him lying next to me totally naked, but I’m scared, I’m terrified of messing up. I’ve only had one sexual partner. Seth’s a man, he’s eight years my senior. He has eight more full years of experience.

  I turn when Seth turns off the radio on his phone.

  “Sorry,” he says, pushing it in his pocket. “The battery is dying.”

  I want to say something. I feel he does too, but we just stand in a strange silence. Time passes slowly as we apply two coats of the white base coat.

  “Daddy, Daddy!”

  We both turn, hearing Ellie’s voice. I realise my t-shirt is showing a little too much cleavage so yank it up.

  Footsteps draw nearer before Ellie and Darcy appear in the doorway. Darcy looks formal. Her short hair has been sleeked back and she’s wearing a grey pinstripe skirt with a matching jacket and cream blouse underneath. I smile in her direction, but her gaze is fixed on the little girl as she readjusts one of her pigtails. Ellie looks adorable. She’s wearing a green summer dress.

  “Daddy, Lizzie, look at my new school uniform,” Ellie squeals, shaking a plastic bag in her hands. Darcy clicks her tongue, moving the little girl’s head back in place as she continues to adjust her wonky pigtails.

  Seth drops his brush in the paint tub and runs his hands down the front of his trousers. “How about we grab a drink and we’ll take a look at your uniform downstairs?”

  Ellie frowns, hugging the bag into her chest. “But I want to show you now.” She stamps her little foot on the floor.

  I drop the roller and walk towards her. “Sweetie, you don’t want paint on your new clothes, do you?”

  Her frown dissolves. Pointing, she chuckles. “Look, Aunty, Lizzie’s got paint on her.”

  Darcy’s gaze leaves Ellie and she focuses on me. Her smile drops, her eyes narrow. The woman clearly has a problem with me. I look away, not challenging her stare.

  What the hell have I done wrong? I scuff my shoe on the floor, glancing down when my foot hits a raised floorboard. That’s when I see it. The handprint that Seth left on my t-shirt has moved from my stomach and is covering my breast. It must have moved when I pulled my t-shirt up. Great, now it looks as though he’s had his hands all over me.

  “I can see you’ve been busy ‘painting.’” Darcy uses air quotes to emphasize the word ‘painting’, her stare bouncing between my t-shirt and her brother’s bare chest.

  “Er, er…” I stutter, pulling my t-shirt down. Sure, my cleavage is exposed, but Seth’s handprint is back in its rightful place. “I think I should change.”

  Darcy smooths down her skirt. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Rubbing the top of my arm, I turn my attention to Seth. “You guys carry on without me. I’ll have a tea and one sugar.”

  I run past Ellie and Darcy. I make my way down to the second floor and lock myself in the bathroom. I keep my clean washing in a cupboard under the sink. I undress, toss my paint-mottled clothes in the wash basket and grab a pair of skinny jeans and a blue floral t-shirt.

  I sit on the edge of the bath for a few minutes, trying to compose myself. I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll to the one person who I know will be able to help me.

  Me: Help.

  Amber: Go on.

  I send her a monster text. I begin with the handprint incident and Darcy. I end with how Seth told me he wanted me.

  Amber: OMG, that’s hilarious.

  I glance to the wash basket, completely mortifie
d. God knows what Darcy must think of me now.

  Me: Not funny.

  Amber: It is a little funny.

  I stare at my phone, waiting for her to say something about Seth. She doesn’t.

  Me: What do I do about Seth?

  Amber: He wants you, you want him. I don’t know what you’re asking me.

  I tap my foot on the floor. What am I asking her? The man of my dreams wants me, he actually wants me, and I’m scared. Without thinking I text her back.

  Me: What if I’m no good?

  Amber: I think it’s time Sandy ripped off that cardigan and put on her catsuit.

  Sandy from Grease is a great comparison for me—safe, predictable, dare I say boring? I know Amber’s right, and I don’t want to risk losing him.

  Me: I’ll try.

  Amber: I accidentally left some condoms in your medicine cupboard.

  Oh, fudge. Seth and Darcy are downstairs. What if he happens to find them?

  Me: AMBER!

  Amber: You’re welcome.

  She also inserts an emoji of a bone. A bone? I have no idea why, it’s obviously a sexual reference, but I don’t get it.

  I’ve been sat up here way too long. I can’t hide up here forever. Holding my breath, I make my way downstairs.

  Darcy’s in the lounge sitting on the settee. Her legs are crossed and she swings her shoe forward and back. Damn, I feel like I’m standing up in court and she’s my judge and jury.

  I look from Darcy to Ellie. She’s sitting in front of the TV watching Finding Nemo, a glass of milk in one hand, a cookie in the other.

  Seth walks in from the kitchen, a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. He places them on coasters on the coffee table. Seth nods in my direction. “Yours is coming.”

  Darcy doesn’t take her drink. She’s too busy watching every single move I make. I sit on the easy chair, and after Seth brings my drink, he stands in the open doorway. At least he isn’t planning on getting paint on my furniture as well as my clothes.