Enforcer (Seattle Sharks 2)

“That you deserve a chance to let loose every once in awhile.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you letting loose with the tequila.”

“I have other vices.”

She snorted, the sound oddly endearing. “Yeah, I know all about those.”

“Yeah, you’ve had a front row seat, which is why—”

“Just stop,” she pled. The sadness in her eyes halted me like nothing else could have.

“Bailey.”

“No. It was humiliating enough without you having to rehash the whole incident. Could you please drop it and let me keep whatever’s left of my dignity intact?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and let her walk away. My eyes followed her as she crossed the living room to cuddle up on the couch with my daughter. The Sound of Music started playing, and I knew they were in for a movie-morning.

I needed to run this off.

Hard.

“Hey, I’m going for a run, is that okay?” I asked.

Bailey raised her hand and waved me off. For fuck’s sake, she wouldn’t even look at me anymore. I tied my running shoes and was out the door in record time, the fall morning crisp and cool despite the forecasted rain later.

My feet pounded against the pavement as I wove through our neighborhood, trying anything to get Bailey off my mind. I finished the first mile and kept going, my frustration fueling me to nearly super-human speed.

Damn it, we’d lived in the same house less than a week and we’d already crossed the one line I was adamant we couldn’t. It didn’t matter that she was gorgeous, that her hazel eyes drew me in and kept me, or that my dick rose to the occasion whenever she walked into the room.

None of that mattered.

Bailey was friend-zoned, damn it, and not just because of our Moms. No, in all honesty, they were the least of my concerns. Bailey needed to stay on the other side of the friendship line because of Letti—because as long as I kept my dick in my pants and away from Bailey, maybe she’d stay.

Women left. It was just a fact of life, and while I could survive another blow, I knew Letti couldn’t. Helen walking out had crushed her, even though she hadn’t understood at the time. She’d only been two. She didn’t know how to process that her “mother” had left us for a better, uninjured prospect, she’d only known that mommy didn’t come when she cried.

Eventually she’d stopped asking for her, and that had broken my heart a little more.

Yeah, I could take it if I fucked up and Bailey walked out.

But Letti?

I’d be damned if I was going to do a fucking thing to hurt my baby girl.

I pounded through another four miles and ended in front of our house, stretching on the front lawn much to the delight of the gardening stepford wife across the street.

“Hi, Gage,” she said, smiling from under a wide-brim hat.

“Laurie,” I acknowledged, turning to walk back into the house. She’d been hinting since we moved in, and relentless the last year or so.

“Sure is hot out here,” she called after me. “Want to come in for a drink?”

Fat chance in hell. “Maybe another time,” I suggested with a neighborly smile and retreated into the safety of my house.

When I heard Bailey’s laughter from the kitchen I realized that I’d just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

“Daddy! Cookies!” Lettie yelled from her perch on the kitchen counter where she sat happily licking dough off one of the beaters.

“I see,” I said, my smile instant. “Are they yummy?”

“The yummiest!”

I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and did my best to ignore the way Bailey’s ass looked in yoga pants as she reached into the oven for another tray.

“Try one,” Bailey suggested, holding one in the palm of her hand.

Her eyes were as warm as the chocolate-chip cookie she offered and I sank into them. There were reasons I couldn’t touch her, reasons I couldn’t—

My lips closed around the tender skin of her fingers as I gently bit into the treat, letting my tongue lick the chocolate off the delicate tips. I wasn’t sure what was more delicious—the cookie or the catch in her breath.

I winked at her as I swallowed, watching her lips part and her eyes widen in confusion.

Yeah, I just fucked up...and enjoyed every second.

“It’s phenomenal, thank you. You don’t have to take care of me,” I told her.

“Well, taking care of you is taking care of her,” she finished with a nod of her head toward Lettie.

I moved toward my daughter and caged her between my arms. “I see more chocolate!” I sounded the alarm and attacked the skin of her neck, blowing raspberries.

Her giggles were contagious. “Daddy!”

“Lettie!” I answered and goobered her neck again to hear her laugh.

There was nothing like her laughter. It filled my heart, reminded me that I was human, gave me a strength I’d never known before they’d placed her swaddled little body in my arms.

“You stink!” she said with a giggle.

“That’s the smell of hard work, my Lettie-Lou.” I rubbed noses with her and she giggled again.

“Hard work stinks!”

I laughed, the sound rumbling through our kitchen and echoed by Bailey. “Then I guess I’d better shower,” I told them. One more kiss on her tiny nose and I abandoned my girls for the shower.

My girls.

The thought stopped me cold as I was half-way on the steps.

I paused, my hand gripping the banister almost painfully. I forced air through my lungs one breath at a time until I could relax my hand and push the panic back. Just because this moment felt fucking perfect didn’t mean it would stay that way.

But God, the sound of Lettie’s laughter from the kitchen mixing with the scent of fresh-baked cookies made this house feel more like home than it had in the last eighteen months since I’d bought it.

And I knew it was because of Bailey.

You know what happens when you realize you want the one thing you can’t have?

You fucking crave it.

Day.

Night.

One week of living with Bailey and I was on edge, wavering between basking in the tiny piece of perfection she’d created, and destroying everything just so it wouldn’t hurt so much when she inevitably left.

Add that to the permanent hard-on I was sporting, and I was a miserable prick. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone this long without getting laid. The worst part was that it wasn’t like I couldn’t go out to a random bar, pick up a chick and scratch the itch…