Dad Bod Read online

  Dad Bod

  Lily Kate

  Published by Lily Kate, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  DAD BOD

  First edition. December 26, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Lily Kate.

  ISBN: 978-1386290018

  Written by Lily Kate.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Dad Bod

  Acknowledgments

  Dad Bod

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Awkward

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  Further Reading: Delivery Girl

  To my other half. For being my #1 cheerleader!

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  Acknowledgments

  W.A. for helping to make dreams come true!

  Virginia for your sharp proofreading eyes.

  Franci for your beta reading skills.

  All of you, readers—beta readers, ARC readers, bloggers, and the entire book community—each and every one of you are fabulous!

  And, of course, to the very best of friends... you know who you are!

  Dad Bod

  I’M A SINGLE MOM.

  He’s a single dad.

  In theory, we should have something in common, right? Wrong.

  When I receive a phone call from my daughter’s school, I’m shocked to find my sweet little girl has been in a fight. Hauled to the principal’s office to straighten things out, I find myself sitting next to none other than my first kiss—Tyler Daniels—the man who’d taught me the meaning of trouble.

  After living the high life in NYC, he’s back in town to ruin me again. This time—the joke’s on him. I’m older and (sometimes) wiser, and after my last failed relationship, I’m in no mood to have my pigtails pulled. Not even when Tyler decides to try that kissing thing all over again.

  However, Tyler’s gotten a lot better at that kissing thing, and when one steamy kiss leads to the next, I suddenly find myself thinking about Tyler Daniels and his smoking hot dad bod at the worst of times. Even if his presence in my town will run my beautiful little inn right out of business.

  When push comes to shove, however, Tyler Daniels and I are not cut out to be friends—and I’m not sure if we’re ready for more.

  Chapter 1

  MAGGIE

  “That’s them.”

  I look up from the pumpkin and gourd arrangement I’m perfecting, first glancing to Emily, then to the couple strolling hand in hand down the front steps of the inn. “What about them?”

  “They’re the ones I was telling you about.” Emily gives me a look that says I should be able to read her mind. “Earth to Maggie. The honeymooners.”

  “I think they’re sweet.”

  “Don’t even. There’s so much sweet going on there—” She waves a hand at the offending pair— “my gums hurt just looking at them. I feel like I’ve eaten a pack of Sour Punch strings and washed it down with a Pixie Stick.”

  I watch as the young couple stops to nuzzle one another, and there’s a slight pang in my chest. “Yeah,” I finally agree. “That much sweet doesn’t last.”

  “Now there’s the cynic I know and love.” Emily grins, then swipes a misshapen gourd from my pile. She holds it to the crotch of a scarecrow and cackles at me. “What do you think?”

  I pick up a tuft of hay and toss it in her direction. “We have customers walking around!”

  “I know, I know.” Emily replaces the gourd, then straightens and adjusts the scarecrow’s attire. “What do you think of the display? I vote it’s our best yet.”

  “Best display yet!” Julia yells from across the street. While Emily and I manage the inn, Julia runs the only bookstore in Harp’s Haven. She’s out front planting her fall garden, her flannel shirt ballooning around her body as she waves to us, then wipes her hand on a pair of dirty jeans. “You ladies outdid yourselves this year.”

  “Thanks, Julia!” I wave back, surveying our handiwork.

  Julia’s right; it really is a gorgeous display. The inn itself is beautiful, and to say this business has been a labor of love would be an understatement. Over the last six years, Emily and I have grown closer than sisters, and the inn itself has morphed from a struggling motel into a flourishing bed and breakfast—a destination for locals to escape for a weekend of pampering and a space for tourists to flock during the crisp fall months of northern Maine.

  “Stand next to the scarecrow,” I instruct Emily. When she does, I hand her a broomstick. “Great. Now do that cackle-laugh thing again.”

  “You think I’m the witch?” Emily raises her eyebrows, but she can’t resist a small cackling chuckle. “What does that make you?”

  I bite my lip in thought. “The tin man.”

  “I don’t think so.” Emily gives a pointed look at my torso. “You’ve been blessed in the chest area, and he’s flat as a board.”

  “I was talking about his heart.”

  “You’ve got a heart. All you need is courage,” she says. “You’re more like the cowardly lion.”

  “I’m not cowardly!” I argue, shifting to arrange the fresh corn stalks in our seasonal display. Fall is almost here, despite the last warm fingers of summer holding on—the odd eighty-degree day making me sweat through the tank top and shorts I’ve worn to work outside. “I have courage.”

  “You have plenty of courage,” Emily agrees. “But you’re a weenie when it comes to men.”

  “I’m not a weenie.”

  “Stop shredding the corn stalks; I’m just messing with you. What’s next on the list?”

  I pull out my never-ending list of To Do’s and mentally cross off fall decorations. “Carve pumpkins with Mila?”

  Emily clasps her hands together and rubs them. “I can’t believe we’re on pumpkins already. Seems like Labor Day just passed.”

  “It did, last weekend,” I say. “But if we don’t put the Halloween decorations up early, we don’t get to spend enough time with them before Target shoves the Thanksgiving and Christmas crap in our faces, and Halloween’s my favorite.”

  “You used to love Christmas.”

  “Well, I don’t anymore. Remember?” I grin at her. “I’m the busty tin man, and I have no heart. Now, let’s grab the pumpkins before we have to meet Mila’s bus. I picked up seven.”

  “Seven pumpkins? My hand is gonna cramp.”

  “Buck up, buttercup.” I pat her on the back. “What are you going to carve? Don’t tell me—”

  “Naked men are out again?�
�

  Emily is, without question, the fun one out of the two of us. Where she’s funny, I’m responsible. While she’s beautiful with all her curves and big blonde hair, I’m medium-thin with wavy brown hair and a pair of boobs slightly too big for my body. She’s warm and welcoming, and I’m...well, I have perfected the art of keeping people out of my space bubble.

  “What’s your choice for movie night?” Emily asks. “Are we going romantic comedy?”

  I look at her, and we both break out into laughter.

  “Horror it is,” she says. “Think anyone else will join?”

  “We’ve been doing these movie nights for so many years, and we’ve never had company.”

  “Who knows?” Emily says, waggling her eyebrows. “Tonight could be the night.”

  “Right.” I take the broom from Emily and sweep the front path free of decorating debris. “That’ll be the day.”

  Chapter 2

  MAGGIE

  “For movie night, I’m thinking ghosts,” Emily says, as we walk through the inn. “What say you, Maggie?”

  “Please, mom, please?” Mila hops along with us, spinning in circles. “Just once can I stay up with you guys and watch, too?”

  “You can watch a scary movie with us when you’re older,” I tell her, clasping a hand around her arm and re-directing her down the hall.

  “Ugh! How old do I have to be? I’m almost thirteen.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say. “You’ve got a long way to go, sweetie.”

  “Your teenage years will be fun,” Emily says over Mila’s head. “Do you hear that attitude? And she’s only ten.”

  “I’m not ten,” Mila says with a giggle. “I’m in first grade.”

  “What are you then, fifteen?”

  Mila pokes Emily on the arm. “I’m six, almost seven.”

  We part ways when we reach our apartment doors in the staff section of the inn. As managers, we both live on the premises so we’re available to handle anything that comes up. It’s a little unconventional for raising a child, but it’s worked out perfectly. Mila might not have a father in her life, but she’s got me and Emily.

  Emily’s family moved to Harp’s Haven our senior year of high school. After graduating and sliding into college life, we’d run into each other at the bookstore buying weepy romance novels after tough breakups. It’d taken mere minutes to recognize a sister in heartbreak; we’d grabbed a drink together that very evening, and the rest is history.

  The night Mila was born, Emily held my hand. When I had no place to go after, she helped me find a job at the inn. When Mila got her first teeth, Emily took the night shift and held Mila for a few hours so I could get some sleep. She’d been there not only for me, but for Mila. The three of us could hardly be called friends; family would be a more appropriate term.

  Emily blows a kiss to Mila before unlocking her door. “Sleep tight, Mila-moo. Maggie, I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m getting into some yoga pants, and then I’ll start setting up the movie in the lounge.”

  Mila and I work through our bedtime routine, including two chapters of Harry Potter that I read aloud after teeth brushing time.

  When I finish the second chapter of The Sorcerer’s Stone, I glance up to find Mila begging for one more.

  “Come on, it’s time to sleep,” I tell Mila. “You have school in the morning.”

  “School is dumb.”

  “This is only your first week. How can it be dumb already?”

  “Rebecca moved away. She was the only one who liked me, and now there’s nobody that’s nice to me in class.”

  My heart aches as she complains of this yet again. She’s complained nightly since the school year kicked off, and I wish there was a way I could go to school and make friends for her. Not that I’m the Rico Suave of friends by any means, but I hate that my baby is lonely already. There’s plenty of time to feel lonely once we become adults.

  “Maybe they’re scared, too,” I offer. “Why don’t you invite some of the girls to sit with you at lunch? Or even the boys?”

  She wrinkles her nose at the last option. “I’d rather sit alone than sit with boys.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I bring her sweet head against my chest and feel her eyes close as she rests there. There’s a warmth in my heart, and I feel suspiciously close to happy. To whole. To the family I’d wanted us to become.

  “You’re really not going to let me watch the movie?”

  “Only when you’re old enough to sleep in your own bed afterward,” I tell her. “Your nightmares keep both of us awake.”

  “But you like sleeping in my bed.”

  “Come on, it’s time for you to get some rest; no more arguing.” I run a hand over the gorgeous brown hair on Mila’s head, smoothing away the baby wisps around the edges of her pink cheeks.

  “Sweet dreams,” I whisper as her eyes finally close, even though she’s faking it. “I love you.” I slowly walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

  Carrying the baby monitor I still keep on hand just in case Mila needs something, I lock the apartment door and make my way to the lounge. Emily and I manage the Lilac Inn, a gorgeous little cottage set in the rolling Maine countryside, wrapped by a small town on all sides.

  While Emily and I are the blood, sweat, and tears of this place, Claire Vanderlin is the owner and financier behind it. Claire lives in New York, while Emily and I live on the premises. We both have two-bedroom apartments on the main level, next door to one another.

  I had been wary to raise a baby surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the inn, in addition to the long hours I put in working here. But, it has been nothing short of a blessing for all of us.

  Mila has grown up with a network of friends as good as family: she’s learned to make a bed from Lelia in housekeeping, and she’s been fed gorgeous, healthy food from Jax, the stunningly handsome chef who brings more business to the inn than any specials or promos we run. Mila learned to read next to Luca, the Italian immigrant who works reception when he feels like it, and she plays with the children who come and go through town.

  “Luca,” Emily says, interrupting my train of thoughts as I arrive in the lounge. “How about you earn that payroll and start up the popcorn machine?”

  Luca doesn’t bother to look up from the paper he’s reading. The only sign that he’s heard her is the slight raising of his eyebrow.

  “Fine, I’ll do it,” Emily huffs. “You can’t figure out how to work the thing anyway.” As she stomps away, she turns and mutters over her shoulder. “Why did we hire him again?”

  “His pretty face,” I joke. “Customers seem to love it.”

  Emily blushes. The customers aren’t the only ones who seem to love Luca’s face, or the way he speaks in a soft, husky voice. I secretly believe Emily’s harbored a crush on the man since the day he stepped foot in this country.

  “Right,” she says. “If only he weren’t such an asshole, maybe he’d be able to catch a girlfriend.”

  “Let me remind you,” I point out, “that you’re the one who offered him a job before you knew his last name.”

  “You should’ve stopped me!” Emily snarls, kicking the popcorn machine when it doesn’t turn on and glaring at me out of the corner of her eye. “I fell for that naive foreigner act. Maybe if Luca actually worked, I wouldn’t have to put in overtime!”

  She hollers the last word, and I give her a stare of my own until she tones it down.

  “What?” She shrugs at me. “It’s true.”

  I can’t agree, however, since my view of Luca is tainted by the fact that he’s an absolute doll around Mila. It’s like he reserves all of his soft-spoken words and tender smiles for the little girl who’s grown up clinging to his leg during hide and seek. And when Luca practices his English during lulls in his shifts, Mila sits with him at reception and learns the words right along with him.

  “Shit, stupid piece of popcorn,” Emily continues with her tirade until I lay a hand on her wrist. She g
lares at me. “This thing is worthless! It’s not popping a single piece of corn.”

  I reach over her shoulder into a cupboard and grab a bag of the microwave stuff. “That’s why we bought these.”

  “Yeah, but I wanted the movie theater style,” she sulks. “This tastes like cardboard.”

  “It’s healthier,” Luca adds, finally deigning us with his words. “The machine is all butter.”

  “Butter is a staple with popcorn,” Emily hisses. “You know, for all of us who aren’t skinny-ass Italian models.”

  Luca gives the briefest of smiles, lighting his face for the first time all evening. He transforms in an instant from a beautifully serious statue into something brighter, if only for a second. Apparently, it’s one second too long for Emily, who promptly loses her ability to speak.

  “Come on, Juliet,” I say, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling her into the communal lounge. “Movie time. Leave Romeo alone.”

  The lounge is filled with squashy couches and oversized chairs, along with a few beanbags and fluffy blankets strewn on any available surface. Pictures taken here at the Lilac Inn—Christmas parties, New Year’s toasts, Halloween costumes—line the walls. They smile fondly down on us, creating a warmth that’s been cultivated over the years.

  Emily settles into the couch and, once I’ve grabbed the popcorn and sprinkled our customary dill pickle salt on it, I join her. The hour is spent in a state of perpetual adrenaline rush as the horror movie rolls into high gear.

  When Luca stands suddenly behind the reception desk, Emily flies onto my lap and clutches my neck.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” Emily growls at him. “You horrible monster.”

  Luca merely strolls toward the restrooms while Emily and I return our attention to the television. The climax of the movie approaches and Emily’s hand finds her way onto my arm, squeezing tighter and tighter as the last surviving female makes a move toward the basement.

  “Don’t do it,” Emily whispers. “Don’t go down there, Brittany...”