Falling For the Single Dad: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (Summer Secrets)

  Falling For the Single Dad

  Summer Secrets #2

  Emma Tharp

  Contents

  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

  Prologue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Emma Tharp

  One

  Hannah

  Huh. Pink and purple hair. No kidding.

  “It looks good,” I tell my sister Jenna, who just got home with her arms full of shopping bags and sporting a total hair makeover. She’s always been the goody-two-shoes twin, but with the goal of losing her V-card to the bad-boy lifeguard in town this summer, she’s changed up her look. I wouldn’t dye my hair those colors, but who am I to judge?

  “You really like it?” she asks, throwing her bags on her bed. “I know Mom hates it.”

  I flop down on her bed next to her new clothes. “Maybe. But she’ll get used to it. I think what you need to worry about is Dad.” He works all week and only joins us in Cape Cod for the weekends. He’s coming tonight. I’m a little giddy that she’ll have to deal with his wrath before I do.

  Her pale green eyes shoot to mine, and she presses her lips together into a thin line. “Oh, no. Maybe I can style it so he doesn’t notice.” She starts messing with her hair, staring at herself in her vanity mirror.

  It’s hard not to laugh. “Good luck. The purple is really bright.”

  “Well, it’s too late now.” She puffs out a breath and drops down next to me.

  “Yeah. It’ll be ok. You know he’s never mad at you for long,” I tell her. She’s always been Dad’s favorite. The easy daughter, the one who follows all the rules. She’s going to school for business so that one day she can take over his company. It’ll be interesting to see how he reacts to Jenna’s transformation.

  Hopefully it’ll take some of the heat off me. Because I’ve always been the daughter that pushes the limits. I take the road less traveled. I’m the daughter who stays out past curfew, and has come home drunk a few times. I don’t dress like a J.Crew model like Jenna does—or at least used to. And now, I know I’m going to disappoint him yet again.

  “You’re probably right,” Jenna admits.

  “I need to have a talk with him. I’m planning on going in right after he reprimands you for your hair.” I squeeze the back of my neck, already dreading it.

  “About what?”

  I blow out a long breath and my heart rate kicks up triple time just thinking about it. “I have to tell him that I’m not going to college next year. I need a gap year to find myself and figure my shit out.” I’ve already waited too long. It’s the middle of June. I meant to tell him Memorial Day weekend, but I chickened out and kept promising myself that I’d do it the next day.

  Have I mentioned that I am the queen of procrastination?

  Jenna clicks her tongue. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  I swat her playfully on the arm. “No kidding. Don’t you think I know that? But he’ll be more upset if I go away, drop out, and waste his money. UC Berkeley isn’t cheap.” The thought of flying to California and moving into the dorms doesn’t sound remotely appealing. I only applied because Mom suggested it; her sister went there and still lives in town. Sure, the city life appeals to me, but not college. Not yet, anyway.

  “At least he’ll be disappointed in both of us.” Jenna puts her arm around me and I rest my head on her shoulder.

  “The summer is moving too quickly and I haven’t accomplished either one of my missions,” I sigh, not liking how whiney my voice sounds.

  Jenna rubs my arm and squeezes me tighter. “What are your missions?”

  “Telling Dad that I need a gap year and you know I want to meet an older guy.” While Jenna is trying to become edgier and more hip, I’d like to figure out a way to seem more mature than my eighteen-year-old self. I don’t mind my age, per se, but I’m tired of dating guys my age. Dudes who are only looking to hook up, get drunk, and stare at their Xbox or cell phone.

  “You can take care of the first one soon, but are you really sure that you want to date an older guy?”

  Nodding my head, I don’t even hesitate, not for a fraction of a second. “Yes. One hundred percent yes. I’m over the immaturity and want someone who has a good head on their shoulders and knows what he wants—and hopefully that’s not going to keggers or cheating on his girlfriend.”

  Jenna stands and grabs the Coke sitting on her desk and takes a sip. “Okay. I understand, but do you think you’re holding a grudge against all younger guys because of Trent?”

  Maybe. Probably. “I don’t know. I mean, wouldn’t you? The asshole told me he loved me all the while he was looking for hookups on dating apps. Like I was never going to find out.” What a loser. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. “Now, I’d like something fulfilling and healthy. Is that too much to ask?”

  She comes back to the bed and points the bottle at me. “No, but how do you think you’re going to meet an older guy?”

  Great question. If I knew, then it’d have happened by now. “I’m going to have to work harder to figure that one out. Maybe I need a change of scenery.”

  “How about hitting the gym more?” Jenna asks, flexing her small bicep and kissing it.

  “Oh, no. I don’t want a meathead. I want someone who’s down to earth and isn’t consumed with his caloric intake and how many hours a day he spends at the gym.”

  Jenna laughs out load, doubling over. “Just because a guy goes to the gym does not mean he’s obsessed with his body image.”

  “You’re probably right. Maybe I’ll go later in the summer, if I’m desperate,” I lie. I have zero interest in working out.

  “What’s your plan then?”

  “Hmm.” I grab the Coke from her and take several fizzy swallows. “Let’s go for a drive. Not too far away, but we need to get out of town. Want to come with me?” I ask.

  “Sure. Let’s go this weekend.”

  “Perfect.”

  Maybe a change of scenery is just what I need to change things up. I’m not looking to meet the love of my life, but I am lonely. Plus, getting out of town will take my mind off of the fact that I have to have a serious conversation with my father, and soon. Because there are a couple things I know. I don’t want to be like Mom, a trophy wife with a superficial life. And, I don’t want to be rebellious like my sister and date the help. I only know what I don’t want, so I’m going to need time to figure out what I want to do with my life.

  Two

  Ryan

  "How's everything going so far this summer?" my sister Diana asks. We're having our weekly phone call to catch up.

  "So far, so good." I swirl the ice around in my glass of scotch.

  "That bad?" I can almost hear the frown in her voice.

  I swallow the last sip of my drink and set the glass on my desk next to my laptop. It’s open to a design project that needed to be finished tonight, but still isn’t quite right. "No. The Cape is nice, but I'm not getting done as much as I
hoped.”

  The clank of dishes and running water comes through the line. She’s most likely cleaning up after the dinner she cooked with love for her husband and two sons. "When are you going to take my advice and hire a nanny? I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive, but Catherine passed away six months ago. It's okay to ask for help."

  Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and rub my temples. "Diana, I told you, I have a bad case of dad guilt. She misses her mom and needs me now."

  "Last time we talked, you mentioned you were behind on your deadlines. How's that going?" Her tone holds a note of condescension. I know where she's going with this. And she's right. In the summertime when I'm away from my duties as Dean of Massachusetts College of Art and Design, I'm a freelance graphic designer. Now, after taking care of Claire, my three-year-old during the day, I don't feel as creative as I'd like to in the evenings.

  "Daddy," Claire's squeaky voice calls from down the hall along with her tiny footfalls.

  "Yes, honey. I'm in my office." I stand and make my way to the door.

  Claire is at the entrance, her long brown hair tousled and rumpled, clutching her well-loved, beloved pink fuzzy purse. Some kids have a security blanket, others stuffed animals. My daughter has a small handbag that never leaves her side. "Can I have water?” she asks.

  "Of course, honey." I take her hand in mine and we make our way toward the kitchen. "Diana, I'm going to let you go now. Claire needs me." For the third time tonight.

  "Tell my favorite niece that I love her. And please, Ryan, think about it. It might be time to hire a nanny. You sound exhausted."

  "I will, thanks." Easing the phone off my shoulder, I hang up and slide it in my pocket.

  Once in the kitchen, I fill Claire's cup with water. I take a seat at the table, and perch my daughter on my lap, loving the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo. "Is everything okay, honey?"

  Claire takes a small sip of her water and nods. "Yes, I’m thirsty."

  Ever since my girlfriend, Catherine, passed away six months ago in a car accident, our daughter Claire has been clingy and needs extra attention. I've gladly given it to her. But, it's my responsibility to take care of her financially, too. That's why I took the dean position at school: to make more money, even though I miss the classroom. But it frees up my summers with Claire and allows me to pick up graphic design gigs on the side.

  "You ready to go back to bed?"

  She stares up at me with her big brown eyes—so much like her mother's that it hurts. "Yes, Daddy."

  Lifting her up, I carry her back upstairs to her bedroom and sit with her in the rocking chair. I snuggle her in close and rock her like Catherine used to.

  Staring out the open window, the stars glisten in the sky and the lapping waves of the ocean begin to lull her to sleep.

  I love Cape Cod and spent many summers here with Catherine. From spending lazy days on the beach together, or driving to one of the many lighthouses on the island, to evenings watching local bands at restaurants, the Cape has been a place where Catherine and I made memories I’ll never forget. We rented this cottage last summer and before we left, we rented it for this summer. I couldn't bear to cancel the reservation after her death. A pit forms in my stomach—an empty hollow spot—when I think of her and how she was tragically taken from my daughter and me. I'm only just now able to think of her and not tear up.

  Claire’s breathing evens out and I gingerly lift her and lay her back in her bed. I pull the covers up around her, drop a kiss on her forehead, and leave her room.

  I head back to my office, get comfortable in the chair, and open a new document.

  Title: wanted, nanny for the summer.

  Three

  Hannah

  I wince as the door slams down the hall.

  Dad's office door.

  Stomping feet parade down the hallway and another door slams.

  The bathroom.

  I've heard raised voices coming from Dad's office for the past fifteen minutes, and knew it was Jenna and Dad hashing it out, presumably over her new hair color choice and possibly life choices. If he has any idea that she's dating Cam, a guy covered in tattoos, he won't be having it. He can be a prick that way. Always up in our business, especially Jenna's.

  He's come to expect less of me in terms of grades and overall behavior. That thought doesn't make me happy, but at the same time it's a bit of a relief—to not be smothered under the weight of his expectations day in and day out.

  Breathing deeply, I decide now is as good a time as any to go have my talk with Dad. He's really pissed at Jenna, so in comparison, our conversation should go smoother.

  I take a few tentative steps toward his office door and knock quietly three times.

  "What is it?" Dad's gruff voice hollers out.

  "Dad, it's Hannah. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  "Can it wait?"

  I swallow past the fear that's creeping up the back of my throat. I've already waited too long to have this conversation. "I only need five minutes."

  I can almost feel the force of his eye roll from this side of the door. "Come in."

  His tone is harsh and clipped. I should run back to my room and hide under the covers. Instead, I puff out my chest and open the door. This really can't wait.

  Padding into the room, I ease the door closed behind me.

  Dad's forehead is crinkled so hard it looks like the wrinkles may be etched there permanently. He’s staring at his computer screen, but when I stand in front of his desk, he finally gives me the once-over. "At least your hair isn't pink," he huffs.

  "Not purple either." I let out a fake laugh hoping to lighten the mood, but it doesn't seem to work and he continues to stare at me, expressionless.

  He taps his pen against his desk in an annoying rhythmic pattern. What I wouldn’t give to have the balls to take the thing out of his hand and snap it in half. "Tell me you have good news for me."

  I take a seat across from him, straightening my posture, doing my best to ignore the pen. "I think I have a way to save you money."

  His brows raise, and magically the tapping stops. "Okay."

  Clearing my throat, I stare into his cold green eyes. "I don't want to go to college next year. Let me take a gap year to figure out what I want to do with my life." The words tumble out of me like a toddler at mommy-and-me gymnastics class, all topsy-turvy and disordered.

  "No!" He bangs his hand on the desk, sending the annoying pen and papers flying everywhere. "Absolutely not."

  I nearly jump out of my chair. "But…"

  "You heard me, Hannah. I said no." His cheeks have turned a rosy shade of pink and I’m certain his blood pressure is reaching a dangerous high.

  This isn't going how I thought it would. He's refusing to budge. My pulse is hammering in my neck, but I push forward. "If I withdraw now, you get your deposit back. It will save you money." You can always appeal to my father’s wallet when talking about things he disagrees with.

  "All I ask of you and your sister is that you get an education. You got into Berkeley and Wellesley. I'm proud of that." With that, his tone softens. Slightly.

  And now he's appealing to my sensibilities. Pay me a compliment and tell me you’re proud and I'll be eating out of your hand. It always elicits an emotional response. Then the truth is, I'm impressed with myself, too. I didn't think I'd get into Berkeley, but somehow, I managed. I applied because that was the thing to do, and to my chagrin, I got a fat envelope in the mail with my acceptance letter. Maybe I should go.

  I take a few deep breaths to clear my head.

  Wait. This is exactly what he wants. For me to second-guess myself. "The statistics about gap-year success are in my favor, Dad," I plead with him.

  "You will never go to college if you take the year off," he spits out. “I bet you'd like to wait it out for your trust fund and be a bum. That's six years from now."

  His words are like a poisonous arrow and hit the target straight at my chest. I blink back th
e tears that desperately want to fall, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. "No. That's not true."

  He puts his elbows on his desk and leans in. He’s close enough for me to smell his expensive aftershave. "Do you want to be like your mother?"

  A traitorous tear escapes my eye. I swipe at it with the back of my hand, angry that the damn thing had the balls to fall now. In front of Dad. What upsets me the most is that he doesn't realize how much work Mom does organizing all of our lives. She does everything so he can focus on his career. I'm numb and can't even come up with a response.

  "Fine. If you want to take a gap year"—he makes air quotes—"then you are cut off. When we go back to Boston in the fall, you can move out and get a job of your own. Have some real responsibilities. See how much you like that."

  "Thanks, Dad. Good talk." I spring up out of the chair and storm out of his office, slamming the door behind me.

  I pound down the hall to Jenna's room, hoping to vent to her, but it's empty. Heading to my room, I go inside and drop down on the bed, letting the stupid tears flow down my cheeks once I’m safe.

  Maybe going into his office after Jenna left wasn't my greatest idea, but I refuse to back down. I don’t need his money. Can’t he see it isn’t about that? I'll show him I'm not going to end up destitute because I take a year off.

  I wish I had explained things better when I had the chance. Dad always throws me off balance.

  Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I open a website with local jobs listed. There are a few server and bartender positions, but that’s the crowd I’d like to stay away from. Housekeepers wanted, and retail stores that need part-time employees don’t really appeal to me either. I close the site, toss my phone on the bed, and bury my head in my hands.