Page 14 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter One

Park Drive, La Porte, Texas, United States

Elle

Elle Fitzgerald loved the stillness of early morning.

Her running shoes hit the pavement in a steady rhythm as she jogged along the street in the exclusive La Porte neighborhood she now called home.

Her house in Sandy Bay estate property had been an auction windfall four years ago as a reward for years of perseverance and the success of her bakery, Elle’s Delicacies.

Her mind drifted to the shop in the Texas Tower, remembering the day when her best friend, Freya Bloom, had helped her secure that first lease seven years ago.

The management’s offer to finance the bakery setup in exchange for monthly rent had brought her to tears.

After years of juggling three jobs, working through culinary school, and enduring burns as a line chef in a commercial restaurant, she had finally gotten the break of a lifetime.

Elle’s Delicacies had flourished, quickly turning into the Tower’s crown jewel with its signature white, silver, and pink décor. Her team produced daily pastry favorites as well as her carefully crafted masterpieces that kept executives coming back.

Her long blonde ponytail swung in rhythm with her steps as she maintained her pace. At five-eight, Elle’s frame carried lean strength, but nature had blessed—or cursed—her with curves that refused to diminish despite her active lifestyle.

“Behave yourselves, ladies,” she muttered to her chest, adjusting her reinforced sports bra. The girls, as she had dubbed them, had a mind of their own during her morning runs. “This is why we don’t do jumping jacks in public.”

Her fitted running shorts and tank showed off toned legs and arms, earned from hours of kneading bread and hauling supplies.

The morning air felt good against her skin as she rounded the corner toward the Cuban Café, her favorite breakfast spot, where the scent of fresh coffee and pastries made her mouth water.

Elle picked up her pace, eager for her morning latte.

A screech of tires caught her attention. Without thought, she turned to look while jogging backward—a decision she immediately regretted as she collided with what felt like a solid wall of muscle.

“Ouch!” Elle cried as hot liquid splashed against her legs.

She cringed with a deep curse trumping in her ears as she spun around to the sight of two large cups and pastries scattered across the pavement.

Rubbing her stinging leg, she was relieved that the coffee wasn’t scalding hot.

“I’m so—” The apology died on her lips as she looked up.

.. and up... into the most striking face she had ever seen.

The man before her had to be in his mid-to-late-forties, but age had only enhanced his appeal.

Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw were softened by laugh lines around his eyes.

A distinguished streak of silver at his temples contrasted with his dark hair, perfectly styled despite the early hour.

His fitted t-shirt did little to hide an impressively muscled chest and shoulders that spoke of regular gym sessions.

The impact of colliding with him sent electricity skittering across her skin. Elle’s breath caught in her throat, and heat bloomed low in her belly as his steely blue gaze locked with hers. The look was intense and predatory in a way that made her pulse race.

“What a shame. I was looking forward to that cronut.” A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the damage.

“Generally, it works better to watch where you’re running.

” The air seemed to grow thick as her gaze moved to his companion, who was equally imposing but younger—probably in his early forties.

Two pairs of eyes studied her with such focused attention, her knees weakened.

A flicker of recognition teased the edges of her mind, but it dissolved under the impact of their combined presence.

Where the muscle wall had distinguished silver at his temples, this man sported perfectly styled, dark blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard that emphasized his strong jawline.

His fitted t-shirt revealed a physique that suggested serious dedication to fitness.

His gray eyes held an amused glint as he crossed his muscled arms.

Elle found herself caught between mortification and awe.

Her gaze darted between the two impressive men.

They carried themselves with an unmistakable air of authority, even in their casual jeans and tees.

Their raw magnetism struck her with physical force.

The silver fox radiated a commanding energy that made her want to bare her throat to his lips, while the muscle house’s playful sensuality promised delicious mischief.

The combination left her dizzy. Pity they were way too old for her.

The rich aroma of Cuban coffee and freshly baked pastries wafted from the café’s open doors.

The morning regulars were already settling into their favorite spots.

Some were seated at the wrought-iron tables on the palm-lined patio, while others preferred the inside, where ceiling fans lazily stirred the air above warm wood and terracotta tiles.

“Miss Elle!” Miguel, the café’s owner, called from behind the counter. “Your usual?” Then he noticed the spilled drinks. “Ay, caramba! Let me get José to clean that up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elle said, addressing both men. “Please, let me replace your breakfast.”

“Counteroffer,” the younger one said with a grin that made her pulse skip. “Join us, and we’ll call it even.”

“Those cronuts aren’t exactly a healthy breakfast,” Elle pointed out before she could stop herself. The scent of butter and cinnamon from the morning’s fresh batch made her own argument feel slightly hypocritical.

“Listen to her, Damian,” Drake chuckled in a rich and deeply disturbing rumble. “She sounds just like your grandmother.”

Elle wasn’t sure if she should be affronted or pleased. José, appearing with a mop, ended their sparring. He shook his head good-naturedly.

“Miss Elle, it’s the first time I’ve seen you cause chaos.”

“I’m sorry for the added work,” she offered lamely.

The morning sun was warming the air as other joggers and early-bird professionals started filling the café. The clatter of cups and saucers mingled with Spanish music playing softly in the background while Carmen, the head barista, called out orders in her musical accent.

“I’m Drake, and this is Damian,” the silver fox introduced as he gestured to a corner table partially shaded by a flowering bougainvillea. “And since you’re so concerned about our nutrition, why don’t you order for us… Miss…”

“Elle Fitzgerald.” She responded to the unasked question as they settled at the table.

Her gaze locked on how Drake’s t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.

Damian’s flexing biceps as he pulled out a chair made her fingers itch to feel their rippling strength.

She cleared her throat and offered information she usually never would to strangers—anything to prevent them from noticing her fascination with their physique.

“I live a couple miles from here. This is usually my peaceful and uneventful morning ritual.”

“Elle,” Drake repeated, his voice wrapping around her name like warm honey. His azure eyes studied her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Lovely name.”

Carmen approached their table. Her dark eyes twinkled with curiosity at seeing her regular customer with the two men. Her reaction wasn’t surprising since Elle always kept to herself. “ Buenos días , Elle! ?Lo de siempre ?”

“Not today, Carmen.” Elle glanced at her companions.

“These gentlemen need a proper breakfast to replace the ones I accidentally destroyed. We’ll have three whole-grain breakfast wraps with egg whites and spinach and…

” She paused with a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Three mini cronuts. Everything in moderation, right?”

“Spoken like a true diplomat,” Damian laughed. The sound was rich and warmed her all the way to her core. “Are you always this good at compromise?”

“Only when I feel guilty about ruining someone’s breakfast,” Elle replied, trying to ignore how her body responded to his dimpled smile. “Are you brothers?” she asked, noting their easy familiarity despite their different appearances.

“Hell, no…” Damian chuckled as he exchanged an intimate look with Drake. “Not by blood. But we’re closer than most brothers would be.”

The casual comment suggested they were a couple.

Disappointment mocked the unexpected surge of arousal racing through her veins.

The image of these two powerful men together in an intimate setting sent heat flooding through her core, even as she tried to banish the thought.

Yet something in the way they both watched her, their eyes hungry and filled with intent, didn’t align with her assumption.

Their attention felt deliberate, coordinated, as if they were two predators circling shared prey.

It was as disconcerting as it was exciting.

A chattering Carmen delivering their coffees offered her a reprieve, although Elle was suddenly hyperaware of every movement the two men made.

She swept her tongue over her dry lips as she watched Drake flexing his forearms. When he lifted the cup and cradled it in the palm of one of his large hands, a phantom sensation of his palms running over her skin caught her unaware.

She never reacted like this to men in general, no matter how sexy they were.

Holy shit, woman. You’re acting like a nymphomaniac. Rein it in before you make a fool of yourself.

The beratement had barely registered when she noticed their gazes ghosting over her body. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the space between them crackled with electricity.

Elle took a steadying sip of coffee, trying to ignore how her body thrilled with awareness. The way Drake’s eyes tracked the movement of her throat as she swallowed made her wonder if he could hear her thundering heartbeat.

“Tell me, lovely Elle,” Drake prompted in a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her bones. “What brings such a fascinating woman out so early?”

She startled as her phone buzzed against her waist where it was strapped in place. “I’m sorry, I should take this,” Elle apologized as she noticed the number of Carlos, one of her pastry chefs, on the screen. “Hey, Cee, what’s wrong?”

“Jefa, we’ve got problems. The main oven’s dead, and we’ve got twenty dozen croissants to bake before?—”

“Slow down, Carlos. Did you check the pilot light?” Elle’s professional tone kicked in automatically, though she remained acutely aware of both men’s intense focus on her conversation.

After a brief exchange about troubleshooting steps, Elle ended the call with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, but I have to run. There’s an emergency at my bakery.”

“Your bakery?” Damian leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table.

“At the Texas Tower. We have a big order this morning for an executive gathering on the top floor.” She got up, doing her best to ignore how their scrutiny made her body sizzle with heat. “And with our main oven out of order…”

Drake and Damian exchanged a loaded glance that she couldn’t decipher, but it made her question whether her assumption about their relationship was accurate.

“What a pity you have to leave so soon.” Drake’s voice dropped lower. She inhaled deeply as the sound slid down her spine like warm honey. “Especially since we’re just getting... acquainted.”

Damian caught Elle’s hand as she got up. Her breath hitched as the casual touch sent a jolt of electricity through her body. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture far too intimate for strangers.

“It was a pleasure... running into you,” he said.

Elle blinked as she noticed his eyes dancing with mischief.

Life suddenly didn’t seem fair at all. She forced herself to yank her hand free.

Her body humming with desire was confusing.

What was wrong with her? They were clearly together, yet here she was, reacting like a hormone-addled teenager to the duo.

Her gaze got caught and held by Drake’s brooding look one last time. It held a message… maybe a promise or a warning. She wasn’t sure which. All she knew was how unsettling it was that two strangers affected her in such a profound way.

“Likewise,” she mumbled as she hurried away, only realizing halfway down the block that, in her flustered state, she had forgotten to pay for their replacement breakfast. But there was no way she was going back, not with her treacherous body still humming from the brief touches and how their deep voice had wrapped around her senses.

Not to mention the way their heated gazes had awakened lust, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in years.

That they were both probably more than ten years older than her didn’t seem to bother her libido at all.

“Since you’ll never see them again, it’s neither here nor there,” she muttered under her breath. Lengthening her strides, she concentrated her energy on getting to the bakery before Carlos also blew a fuse.