Daisy Does It All (Clover Park, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (3 page)

“I’m not giving up on us,” he informed her.

“There is no us,” Daisy said.

The woman was maddening. He hadn’t missed the tears. He knew she was exhausted. If only she would let him in. He wanted to make life easier for her. Get rid of those dark circles under her eyes; get some of that bubbly personality back.

He held his palms up. “You won’t give us a chance. What are you afraid will happen?”

She heaved a long-suffering sigh that pissed him off, but he tamped down the anger, knowing it never got him anything but trouble.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said. “Okay, say we got together and it didn’t work out. Bryce would suffer.”

“And what if it did work out? Then Bryce could have a normal family.”

She pushed her long, blond hair out of her face and blew out a breath that left a puff in the cold air. She was beautiful even when she was tired, frustrated, and on the verge of anger, like now. Always so beautiful. He’d had a thing for her since he moved to Clover Park sophomore year. Not that she’d ever noticed the skinny kid a grade behind her. Junior girls didn’t give sophomore boys the time of day. Now it was different. They were responsible adults with a child. Bryce was all that mattered now.

“Bryce doesn’t know any different,” she said. “This is a normal family to him.”

“I want more for him. A real family. Two parents that live with him.”

“I just…don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone right now. I’m on my own for the first time in my life. I’m working hard to get out of debt and provide a good life for Bryce. I need to show everyone, including myself, that I can do this. I’ve spent too much of my life letting other people fix my problems. If I take the easy way, I’ll never know what it feels like to be independent.”

“I never said being with me would be easy,” he said, keeping the tone light. “I leave the cap off the toothpaste, and you really don’t want to see this bedhead in the morning.” He pulled his hair up and snarled.

“
Trav
, you know what I mean. Be serious.”

He paused, serious now. “You could still be independent. We can do this on your terms. I’d never stand in your way.” His voice came out raspy over the tightness in his throat. Annoying. He cleared his throat.

She frowned and looked at the ground. “No one has faith in me, with good reason. I’ve made some bad decisions.” She met his eyes, and he read the pain there. “Impulsive, spur-of-the-moment decisions that ended with me out of a job, homeless, penniless. Seriously, up until Bryce, my life has pretty much been a disaster. If it wasn’t for my family, I hate to think where I would’ve ended up.”

She’s too hard on herself
. It wasn’t like she’d been into drugs or drinking. She just hadn’t found her niche. Hadn’t yet found the right person to share her life with. But he knew this was it. He was her person. Their little family was her niche. You couldn’t have a miracle like Bryce and not know that
together
was where their family belonged. But he didn’t say any of that. He knew when to let up. That didn’t mean he was giving up on her.

He peeked in the back seat at his sleeping son. “Goodnight, little man.” He turned to her. “Night, Daze.”

She looked relieved that he was leaving, which left a sour note.

“Night, Trav.”

He stepped back while she got into the driver’s seat. He usually had an easy way with women. Flirt, get a laugh out of them, enjoy each other for a while. But now…now when it really counted and his son’s future was at stake, he struck out. He was starting to feel like a loser. But, as his big bro Ry used to coach him,
Winners never quit.

Daisy turned on the car and powered down her window. “No more marriage proposals. Okay?”

He winked. “Not unless you’re the one asking.”

She laughed. “Fair enough.”

He stepped back, his smile frozen in place, and watched her pull away with his son. He turned for his car and let out a frustrated breath. He hated saying goodbye to Bryce so much. He wanted to see Bryce’s drooly, two-toothed smile every morning and tuck him in every night. He wanted him to have a rock-solid foundation. He unlocked his Toyota RAV4, bought especially for its safety and reliability when Bryce came into his life, and blasted Metallica all the way back to his empty house.

Chapter Three

The next morning Trav and his crew chief and friend, Rico del Toro, drove to the supply yard to stock up on rock salt. The weather reporters were going nuts about the snowstorm likely to hit at the end of the week. His plow and shoveling service kept his landscape business going in the winter months. Rico was the only one he kept on payroll, though. The rest of the crew was seasonal.

“You’re pretty quiet over there,
jefe
,” Rico said from the passenger side of the truck.

Even though Trav knew Rico from back when they were kids in New Jersey, before Trav moved to Clover Park at fifteen, he still didn’t want to talk about what was bugging him.

“Enough with the boss shit,” Trav snapped.

“Touchy.”

Trav exhaled sharply. “It’s Monday. I’m not awake yet.”

“I’m thinking someone didn’t have such a dreamy Valentine’s Day,” Rico teased.

Trav snorted and glanced over. “And you did.”

Women loved Rico, and he loved them right back. Not enough to stick around, but they generally knew that going into it. His rep was legendary.

Rico puffed out his chest. “I don’t kiss and tell, but someone wanted a
luscious
caramel valentine.
Bow-chicka-wow-wow
.”

“Geez, man, shut up.” He stopped at a light, last night’s disaster with Daisy fresh in his mind. He really did have to stop proposing to her. It was getting embarrassing. Maybe marriage wasn’t in the cards for them. The light changed, and he hit the accelerator hard.

Rico grabbed the oh-shit handle. “Fuck. What is wrong with you today?”

“Daisy turned me down again.”

Rico clucked his tongue. “I told you not to ask her anymore. Have some pride.”

“I do have pride,” Trav snapped. “I’ve also got a son who doesn’t have my name and who doesn’t have a family.”

“Why are you so hung up on this? I thought you were doing the…the—”

“Coparenting.”

“Yeah, that. You’re coparenting. Who cares what his name is?”

“I do!” Trav hollered.

Rico went silent.

Trav turned on the radio, and they drove with hard rock blasting the rest of the way there. He parked the truck, turned off the ignition, and turned to his friend. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

For all of his friend’s tough-guy machismo, he knew Rico was extremely sensitive. The man wrote ballads on his acoustic guitar as a hobby. He loved to sing about love even though he claimed he’d never been in love. He just “loved love,” whatever the hell that meant.

Rico’s lips clamped together; then he socked Trav on the arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

Trav grunted in reply. They walked to the small office to put in their order. No one was there. They waited for the guy who ran the supply yard, Stan, to show up.

“Daisy’s got me tied in knots,” Trav admitted. “I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with her.”

“
Ay
, you’re going about this all wrong. Women are repelled by desperation.”

Trav raised a brow. “I’m not desperate.”

“Sure smells that way.”

“Whatever.”

“Just back the hell off her,” Rico said. “She told you loud and clear she doesn’t want to get married. Keep cool. I bet if you back off,
she’ll
come after
you
.”

“Yeah?”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. You’re a catch, man. Women dig the stubble look.” He rubbed his own stubbled jaw.

Trav laughed. “She’d be lucky to have all this.” He gestured to his bod and jutted out one hip.

Rico grinned and raised his voice to a falsetto. “You work it, girl.”

Trav matched his high pitch. “Bitch, you ain’t even seen what I can do.”

“How can I help you bitches today?” Stan, a balding guy with a huge beer belly, asked.

Trav startled and cleared his throat. “How ya doing, Stan? We’re gonna need a shit ton of rock salt for this coming storm.”

Stan shook his head. “Right this way, ladies.”

Rico did a monkey impersonation behind Stan, dragging his knuckles, knees bent, loping forward. Trav laughed.

Stan stopped and looked behind him. Rico immediately straightened.

Stan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, turned around, and kept going.

Rico went back to monkeying around. His friend always could get him out of a bad mood. He just hoped Rico was right. His attempts with Daisy had been complete washouts. He’d back off and let Daisy come to him. If she didn’t, well, he was right back where he started from, trying to pin her down. How the hell did he get himself into this mess? It had all started with those damn tequila shots.

He’d found Daisy at Garner’s bar drinking alone the day after Thanksgiving. She’d looked miserable. He’d been miserable too. He figured she’d be good company. Not to mention she was sexy as all hell. He wanted her big time—had from the first minute he’d laid eyes on her way back in high school—but she was hard to pin down. She breezed in and out of town to visit her family, and he’d never gotten past a quick hello. Her drinking alone at the bar was a golden opportunity, and he took it.

“What are you drinking?” he’d asked, moving to the barstool next to her with his beer.

One side of her mouth quirked up. “Ironically, a Slow, Comfortable Screw.”

He’d gone hard just hearing the words come out of her mouth. “Why is that ironic? You prefer it fast?”

She laughed and stirred the skinny straw in her drink. “Yeah.” Then she frowned. “My boyfriend cheated on me.”

“That’s rough.”

“You know what’s rough?” she asked. “I was about to bring him home to meet the family for Thanksgiving. The night before, as I’m waiting at the train station, wondering what’s taking him so long, he
texts
me that he’s met someone else. Texts me! After three months!”

She took a long drink.

He took a pull on his beer in solidarity.

She turned to him. “What about you? You look about as happy as I feel.”

“Sherri dumped me this morning. Said she wanted to wait for the day after Thanksgiving so she wouldn’t ruin my holiday.”

“I don’t know Sherri, but she sounds like an idiot.”

He laughed ruefully. Sherri was a client’s daughter and an English professor at Yale. Fortunately, he kept the client.

“She
was
an idiot.” He drank to that. “Absolutely. And so was your guy.”

“Jonathan.” Daisy lifted her glass in a toast. “To Jonathan and Sherri.”

“Idiots,” they said in unison as they clinked glasses.

Daisy finished her drink and slammed the glass down. Eyes bright, she gave him one of her sunny smiles. “I like you, Travis O’Hare. Let’s do shots.”

Famous last words. The rest of the night was a blur. She’d walked home with him, and they’d slammed together like their lives depended on skin on skin. He remembered her taste, like tequila and lime and Daisy, her scent a citrusy perfume. He woke up alone with a raging headache.

Nine months later they had Bryce.

He regretted nothing.

He picked up the pace as if he could outrun his memories of her. He focused on the work ahead and pushed Daisy to the way, way back of his mind.

Where he knew she’d linger and drive him nuts.

~ ~ ~

The blog post that proved sex sells…

Daisy Does It All

Mom, wife, domestic diva

Bedroom Shenanigans After Baby…

I couldn’t leave you all hanging with last week’s fantastic Valentine’s Day plans without addressing a very important element of the Day of Amore—the bedroom. Now we all know that six weeks after baby, none of us feels the urge to run naked into the bedroom, but I’m here to tell you that va-va-voom does come back, if nurtured correctly.

First, you need to explain to Darling Husband, as I did, that the fastest way to naked is helping out with the baby and around the house. Ladies, do I need to tell you that this is a
major
turn-on? The man that does this says, “Honey, I love you so much that I will care for the child born of our love and keep the house running so you can relax.” If your Darling Husband isn’t yet with the program, show him this post. And let him know that my Darling Husband has a very satisfied smile on his face since getting with the program, as in, several times a week.

(Your “me time” benefits him too. You’ll have time to shower and shop for that lacy, satin teddy. Wash it by hand and leave it hanging over the shower curtain to dry. It’ll kick-start his imagination.)

Second, men are visual creatures. I know, I know, you’re thinking you’d like a little less visual on your post-pregnancy bod. This is where the teddy that covers you in just the right places can really pay off. I’m talking lots of leg, lots of cleavage, flowing fabric around the middle. Your basic A-line mini. Give him a glimpse from a distance as you do a sexy bedroom dance for him. Yes, that’s right, play that slow jazz (or your favorite seduction music) that says,
I’m a sexy woman, and I know it
. By the time he gets to you, he’ll be tearing that teddy off so fast he won’t have time to notice a few stretch marks. (Not that you should feel bad about them. They’re your tiger stripes, Mama.)

Now for us ladies, we crave talk to feel close to our man. Here’s a win-win: sexy talk. Tell each other what you want to do to each other, gaze into each other’s eyes as you do, and that’s a recipe for steamy, soul-satisfying loving. I’ll leave the exact words up to you. Only you know best what your Darling Husband craves. Plan for it, set the scene, don’t forget the birth control (your bod needs rest between those Baby Delights), and have fun!

XOXO!

Daisy

Daisy scrolled through the comments on her blog post from last week as she always did before writing a new post and smiled to herself. More than fifty comments on bedroom shenanigans.

“You go, Daisy!”

“Just what we needed. Thanks, Tiger Mama!”