Page 8 of Accidental Dad’s Best Friend (Unintentionally Yours #7)

Izzy

I can’t remember the last time I was in a bed this big.

It’s a pillow top king with about a hundred goose down pillows and a cloud of comforters.

Not only that but there’s a rain shower head, a Jacuzzi tub in the corner of the room, a bottle of wine (now half a bottle) on the nightstand and a view of the mountains and the pool.

The same pool I was in with Ethan just hours ago. The pool I let Ethan finger fuck me in.

God.

How the fuck is this my reality?

Just two days ago I was living my normal, quiet life. Talking to Cassie about orange shoes and taking Jaxon to get donuts. Then BAM. Enter Ethan Savage, the man who has been a constant presence, a constant question mark and a constant pain in my ass.

I feel bad sometimes at how bitchy I am with him. But if I acted the way I really feel, he’d be in this bed right now. We’d be on round three of him fucking me into a coma and I’d be packing up to move back to Denver.

And that can’t happen. Because Ethan and I cannot be together.

That is not a thing. I am thirty. He is 48.

He is my dad’s best friend. And if I take him up on his offer he is soon to be my boss.

All the more reason why us fucking off into the sunset cannot happen.

Not to mention I have secrets of my own, number one being the glaring truth that Jaxon is Ethan’s son.

I roll over and squint at the clock. But it’s no use.

I cannot sleep. Not with all these questions floating around in my head.

Part of me can’t believe that my dad would do what he’s done to Ethan, sabotaging his job opportunity with The League.

Ethan loves sports and always has. It used to be something they had in common.

They’d go to Rockies games in the spring and Broncos games in the fall.

They even took me to an Av’s game once when I graduated high school.

I remember thinking it was a lame gift. What eighteen-year-old girl wants to go to a hockey game anyways?

But my dad’s way of loving has always been whatever serves him best and he wanted to go.

I spent most of the game with my nose in a book.

My dad was indifferent. Ethan gave me shit for it.

But he also made a small comment that stuck with me.

“What’s it about?” He asked without taking his eyes off the game. Mine trailed over to his face. He was younger then, in his mid or late thirties. His hair was darker and thicker but his eyes were the same. His smile was the same too.

“Feminism.” I answered. I was reading Margarette Atwood.

“Are men all that terrible?” He asked and I lowered my book.

But just before I could respond, one of the players on the other team slammed one of our players into the wall, making me jump.

Ethan grinned and patted my leg. His hand was warm.

The guys on the ice broke into a brawl until there was nothing but a pile of hot-headed boys with sticks beating the shit out of each other.

I held out my hand and arched my eyebrows and Ethan laughed again. “Alright, you win. We’re idiots. All of us.”

I laughed too and the laughs faded to smiles. We looked back to the ice as everyone around us, my dad included, jumped to their feet and started yelling. We stayed sitting. And his hand, for a moment longer, stayed on my leg.

That was it. Ever since that day, since that moment, I realized something. Ethan Savage wasn’t my dad’s friend. He wasn’t a man I grew up seeing almost every day. He was just a man. An attractive man. And he was a man that I was not allowed to see that way.

So I shoved whatever I was feeling aside and replaced it with irritation. Dislike. Annoyance.

But now, years later, I can’t just shove the feelings aside anymore. And now that he’s touched me, now that he’s kissed me and held me and called me baby…

No. It doesn’t matter. I cannot fall for Ethan Savage.

Not just because I can’t compromise my own heart, but because I can’t let Jaxon get hurt.

The only thing worse than growing up with only one parent, is having a parent that is around but doesn’t want you around.

I don’t know that that’s how Ethan would feel.

But he’s made it pretty clear he’s not the settle down type.

He’s almost fifty for Christ’s sake. If the man wanted a wife and kids, surely he’d have it by now.

But he doesn’t.

And the last thing I will subject Jaxon to is a dad who might not want him.

I often wonder if my dad did want me, at some point.

Before I was born. I never heard about what his relationship was like when my parents were pregnant with me.

He won’t talk about it and I learned when I was little to stop asking.

All I do know is that my mom got sick when she had me.

A partially retained placenta went septic.

From what I’ve read, it’s something that happens very fast. Postpartum flu-like symptoms lead to delirium and blood poisoning within hours.

She was rushed back to the hospital three days after I was born and it was too late.

My dad went home without her and was left alone with me.

I’ve always felt like he blamed me for it.

He wasn’t neglectful for anything like that.

I was never in want or need of anything…

except maybe affirmation. No, he was around and attentive alright.

Made sure I ate healthy and expected perfect grades at school.

In his mind, I was a direct reflection on him.

In other words, I had to be perfect. And when I wasn’t the criticism got worse.

It made him permanently disappointed and me chronically driven and salty, mostly out of spite.

Ethan is a driven man. A successful, stubborn, strong-willed man. As bad as it sounds, I have no idea what kind of father he would be. All I know is I have to protect Jaxon and Ethan has never shown interest in being a family man.

So for now, he can’t know about Jaxon. Not only because I don’t want to compromise the life I’ve spent five years building but because my dad has no business knowing about Jaxon either. That is one man he doesn’t need in his life. However, I do still have the job offer to consider.

As much as working for NBT doesn’t appeal to me, I know Ethan means it when he says he’ll pay well.

His “donation” subscription to my blog is proof of that.

Which, by the way, I am still not happy about.

A job like that could get me out of the retail world and back into journalism for good.

As much as I like working at the shop with Cassie, selling overpriced dresses to stuck up women isn’t exactly a fulfilling career.

Sure, I have the blog going for me but with how little it brings in, my degree is more or less just collecting dust at this point.

It would also get Jax and I into our own home. A place in a family friendly area with a yard and parks and friends. So I make a decision, the right decision for Jax.

I will take the job.

But there will be stipulations, of course.

The next morning, I meet Ethan at a coffee shop right down the street. I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if our meetings are in more public, less steamy locations. Places where they require more clothing and less places to hide hands.

“I take it since you agreed to have breakfast that you aren’t going to tell me to fuck off?” Ethan is grinning at me from across the small metal table outside the coffee shop.

It’s a clear, bright morning and even at 8am, it’s already warm. I can see my own reflection in his Oakley shades and I’m starting to wish I’d done something with my mess of hair instead of just throwing it into a messy bun.

But with the amount of overthinking I did last night and the lack of sleep I got because of it, I didn’t have the energy to dress to impress. I’m probably the most underdressed I’ve ever been at a quote unquote job interview in a cropped tank top and leggings before. I kind of don’t hate it.

“No, I’m not going to tell you to fuck off. Not all the way, anyways.” I answer, licking the whipped cream off my straw. A lot of people would argue that frozen coffee with caramel drizzle and whipped cream isn’t coffee at all but dessert. Now those people can fuck all the way off.

“Alright,” Ethan crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair. “So let’s discuss just how far you aren’t going to ask me to fuck off.”

“I am going to take the job.” I state.

Ethan sits up and raises his sunnies to the top of his head, his light blue eyes matching the color of the sky bright with surprise. Part of me wishes he would put the shades back on because of how distracted that color is. The other part of me never wants to stop staring into it.

I mentally shake the thoughts from my head and go on. “Don’t look so excited. I will write the article for you. But I have stipulations.”

“I see,” Ethan turns his coffee cup on the table in a circle. “And what exactly are those stipulations?”

“If I am going to write an article that exposes my dad for what he’s doing, what he’s always done, no one can know I am writing it.”

“I agree.”

“I mean, no one can know I am even working for NBT.”

“Lucky for you, you aren’t on payroll,” he says, leaning in enough that I can smell the oaky musk of his aftershave.

It’s another thing about him that has always been present but that I didn’t actually notice until I started to notice him as a man and not my dad’s friend.

“You don’t work for NBT, sweetheart. You work for me. ”

My lips tip down at his words. “What did I say about the pet name?”

“You’re feisty for someone being offered a very decent job.” He leans in even further, closing what was left of the space between us.”

“And you’re being pretty ballsy for someone who is in desperate need of a journalist who can actually write this article.” I shoot back.

Ethan lets out a chesty laugh at that. “I am a lot of things, love. But desperate is not one of them. I could write the article myself if I wanted to and I’d do a banger job of it, make no mistake of that.”

“So why don’t you do that? If you could write it so well, why do you need me?”

“Again. I don’t need you, Izzy. But I want you.

” The raspy way he says the last part tickles the nerves in the back of my neck making all the hairs stick up and making my nipples hard.

Thank God I am wearing a real bra today.

“I want you to do it because you do a kickass job of calling people out on their shit. That, and you know him. You know what you're up against. Liam Sloane is your father and he still doesn’t intimidate you. That in itself is an enigma. So what are the rest of your stipulations?”

Ethan takes a sip of his coffee and for a second I’m left speechless. Somehow in less than thirty seconds, the man has managed to irritate me, turn me on, insult me and compliment me. Not to mention leave me speechless, which I do not appreciate.

“Right,” I clear my throat which suddenly feels like it’s lined with sandpaper. I take a sip of my coffee and go on. “No one can know.”

“Check marked.”

“I’m also going to need your email so I can submit the article when I’ve finished writing it.”

“Of course. But I’ll check in as well, don’t worry.” He nods, pulling out his phone.

I have to laugh at that. “Check in? You mean like Zoom?”

“I mean when we meet up to discuss things. I prefer face to face.”

I blink. “You’re going to drive all the way to Grand Junction from Denver for meetings?”

Ethan laughs again, this time it’s a low gritty sound. “Of course not. You’re going to be in Denver.”

“In Denver? I can’t just move to Denver!”

“Why not?”

“I have a job.” I stutter.

“A better paying job than this?”

“No. But I have…other obligations.”

“You’re living with your co-worker in a house that she inherited,” he states and I realize just how deep he actually dug.

Now I’m nervous if he knows or even suspects anything else (like that I have a son).

“Listen. I’ll pay for it all. You won’t have to worry about it.

I’ll get you a temporary place in Denver.

A nice condo if you’d like. Maybe downtown near the restaurants and lounges. ”

“Do I look like I spend my evenings going to lounges?” I cut him off. I don’t like the sound of any of this. But I also know I have no choice. So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Fine. I’ll come out there. For now. But I want a townhouse.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I want it in a safe neighborhood. A family neighborhood, not downtown.”

“That’s fine too.”

“Walking distance from parks and coffee shops and ice cream.”

Ethan bites back a smile. “Anything else?”

“Two rooms. It needs to have two bedrooms.” I say firmly. Inside though, I am shaking.

Ethan arches an eyebrow. “Two rooms?”

“Yes.”

He studies me for the world’s longest two seconds before his expression relaxes. “You got it.”

“Good,” I say, getting up and grabbing my things. “I’ll have to head home to get my things ready.”

“Sounds good.” Ethan says, popping his lid to finish off his coffee. As I am about to walk away, he calls out to me.

“Hey, Izzy.”

I stop and wait.

“Why two rooms?”

I swallow hard and answer him without looking back. “That’s not your business.” I answer before walking away. It’s not until I get down the block and around the corner to my car that I let out the breath I was holding.