Bad Boy Daddy (13 page)

My hands started to shake. My mind went completely blank. I felt dizzy. It was too much.
It was her
. Suddenly, I lost my balance and was falling back into the ravine.

As I fell, thoughts flew across my mind. I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t want her to recognize me. After all that had happened, all I’d put her through, I couldn’t just appear like this. It would be too much of a shock. I didn’t even know if she wanted to see me.

I hit the gravel with a thud.

“Oh, gosh,” she cried. “You’re hurt. You’ve got to let me take you to the hospital.”

Thankfully it was dark. I’m not sure she’d have even recognized me even if it was light. I looked much different than she remembered. I was older. I was beaten and battered, scarred and bruised. I had the scraggy beard of a lumber jack, long, unwashed hair, a Lakers ball cap. I deepened my voice and prayed she wouldn’t recognize me.

“Lady, you’ve done enough,” I growled.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“If you want to help, try slowing down.”

I was being rude, but I had no choice. I had to get rid of her. I couldn’t let her know it was me. I needed time to work my way back into her heart. I had to approach it properly. I couldn’t just show up like this.

I climbed back up the rocks but remained in the shadows so she wouldn’t get a good look at me.

“Well,” she said, breathlessly. “Are you hurt? Let me at least take you to the hospital. It’s not far.”

“Only if I can drive?” I said, still trying to get rid of her.

I could see her now, dimly, but it was enough to get the general impression. She was
so
fucking hot, every bit as beautiful as the moment we’d said goodbye. She still had the face of an angel. She’d matured gracefully. Her eyes reflected the car headlights like glass. Her features were delicate and kind.

She took my breath away. It was the face I’d been dreaming about for twelve years, and there she was, right in front of me. I stayed out of the light. I couldn’t let her see that it was me.

Tears came to my eyes. I hadn’t shed a tear in years.

“There is nothing wrong with my driving,” she said. “What were you thinking, walking out here at night? How do you expect people to see you?”

God, it was all I could do not to run to her and put my arms around her. I wanted her so badly, but another side of me was terrified. What if she recognized me and rejected me? I was dirty. I was disheveled. What woman in their right mind would want me walking back into her life?

“Just leave me,” I said. “I’ll be all right.”

She looked at me, trying to see me in the darkness.

There was a long silence.

I was terrified she’d recognized me, but then she said, “You know what? If I wasn’t feeling guilty for almost killing you, I’d get in my car right now and leave you here.”

Her hair glowed in the headlights like gold. I wanted to grab it in my fist. Her body was just crying out to be fucked. Just looking at her was making my dick throb like a beating heart.

I can tell when a woman needs to be fucked. I can pick up on that sexual tension the way a dog can smell fear. It’s an instinct. If there’s a woman nearby and she hasn’t been laid properly, I can smell it.

Faith had sexual frustration written all over her.

Realizing it moved me to the verge of tears. My voice broke. I prayed she couldn’t see.

I was thrilled. After twelve years, anything could have happened. She could have found the love of her life. She could have married him. She could have been with anybody. But I could sense it. There was no doubt in my mind she was still alone.

She still had my mark on her. I could feel it with my soul. She hadn’t given herself to another man. She’d waited for me.

She’d waited for me.

I couldn’t believe it. After all these years, she’d waited for me.

She turned and began walking back to her car angrily, her heels clinking. I watched her walk. Even in the dark I could tell her ass was swaying in a sexy, side-to-side motion.

“Hold on,” I said.

She slowed down but didn’t turn back.

“I’ll take a ride,” I said.

She paused as if thinking about it.

“Get in the car,” she said.

She’d waited. Twelve years, and she’d waited. I was sure of it.

Chapter 24

Faith

I
F IT WASN’T FOR THE
fact that I’d almost killed him, I’d never in a million years have let a man like that into my car. He was like everything I stood against in life, the exact opposite of what I was looking for. I mean, I could hardly see him, but he seemed like a criminal. I’d learned my lesson long ago.

Stay away from men like that.

In the darkness I could make out his shape. He was built like a fighter, his muscles bulging through his shirt. Those muscles were probably his only way of picking up women. I could just imagine him checking himself out in a mirror at the gym. Judging from the musky odor, he hadn’t showered in a few days either.

In short, he was the last guy in the world I wanted sitting next to me in my car. I hate guys like him. He thought he could act cocky, be rude, flex his big muscles, swing his big dick, and women like me should just swoon and throw ourselves at him.
Get real.

He was wrong. He was
so
wrong. I’d made that mistake once, I wouldn’t make it again. I had more on my mind than muscles and a big cock.

I glanced down at his crotch. I was sure there was a bulge in there, inside his jeans. I pictured it.

What was I doing?

The truth was, this guy, the exact opposite of the kind of guy I was looking for, was making me hot under the collar. I don’t want to say my panties were wet, but just the sight of him made my womb throb with desire. Just the presence of his big, strong body, so close to me in the car, made me want to pull over. I wanted to straddle him and let him fuck my brains out. I wanted him to come inside me without a condom.

What was wrong with me?

I couldn’t even see his face. It was dark, he had a beard, a deep voice, a ball cap. He could have been anyone. But there was an animal magnetism to him. For some reason, I was drawn to him.

I’m not a sex maniac. Honestly. I’m a normal, healthy woman. At least I like to think I am.

I just
needed
it. God knows I needed it. I lived by the rules, I put my responsibilities first, I gave my kid a good childhood, and sometimes, just sometimes, I got so tired of it I thought I would scream.

I rarely allowed myself to feel that way. I felt guilty just thinking it. But I’d waited my entire life for a man I’d spent less than three short days with. I’d raised his son. I’d given up so much for the memory of a man that might never return. Fuck, sometimes I just wanted to scream in frustration.

Why did I wait for Jackson when there were so many other men around to tempt me?

Like this one.

I don’t want anyone to think I wasn’t grateful for my son. It’s just, sometimes, I wanted to let my hair down, set aside all my hangups, and surrender myself to the reckless pleasure a guy like this could give me.

Trust me, I know the pleasure that’s possible with a bad boy. I’d been burned before.

This guy was strange. One moment, he was a cocky jerk. The next he was sitting in silence, practically hiding under his hat.

There was something strangely familiar about him too. His voice was, I don’t know, it was strange.

Maybe I was just letting him get under my skin. He thought he could get in my car and I’d wrap my legs around his torso.

If only
.

I have
some
self-respect. Just because we almost had an accident, just because I’d let him in my car, that didn’t mean he was getting any. I hadn’t had sex with a man since the birth of my son. And my son is eleven. That’s more than a decade.

“Where do you want to go?” I said. “The hospital?”

“Do you think I need to see a doctor?”

“A shrink? Sure.”

He laughed. I listened intently to his gruff voice. What was it? There was
something
about it.

“If you’d take me to my house, I’d appreciate it.”

“Where is it?”

“Down in the valley.”

“Oh, you’re a farmer.”

“Me? No. My father was. I’m more of a wanderer, I guess you’d say.”

I looked in his direction but I could see nothing in the darkness. I had the impression he was bearded.

“A wanderer? Are there good career prospects in that these days?”

I bit my tongue. I don’t know why I said that. It was judgmental. His career prospects were his own business. It’s just, he bugged me.

He sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to give me a ride, I’ll walk. I was doing just fine before you almost killed me.”

“I did
not
almost kill you.”

He looked toward me but I looked away before meeting his eye. I felt heat rise to my cheeks under his gaze. I didn’t want him to look at me. I didn’t want him to see through my defenses and realize who I really was. I didn’t want him to see the truth.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re high strung?” he said.

“Look. If I want your opinion on my personality, I’ll ask for it.”

“All I’m saying is, I can tell I’m putting you on edge.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why is that? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know. You remind me of someone.”

“Who?” he said, and there was a sudden searching in his voice.

I didn’t answer.

He seemed to be thinking about what I’d said. I knew his type. The only thing he was interested in was my vagina.

I don’t know if I can explain why there was so much tension between us. I know it’s not normal. The truth is, this guy was pushing all my buttons. And it wasn’t even anything he’d said. It wasn’t his fault. It was all me. I was terrified.

I was terrified of who I’d allowed myself to become. Of who I was becoming. I was terrified of becoming hard and stern and rigid. I was terrified of letting life pass me by, of growing old alone, of not taking the opportunities for love that came my way.

And most of all, I was terrified that this guy, this
wanderer
, would see right through me. That he’d see me for who I really was—a girl pretending to be a woman—a child pretending to be a mother—an abandoned girl waiting her entire life for a lover who was never coming back.

I was lost and heartbroken, even after twelve years.

I’d never been able to get over what had happened all those years ago.

I wanted to have what I’d lost. I wanted the danger Jackson promised. I wanted the fun and vibrancy of my time with him. I wanted love and sex and Jackson’s big cock fucking me all night long.

Jackson
.

That was it. How had I not realized? This guy, for some completely unknown reason, was reminding me of Jackson. It was ridiculous. This guy was nothing like Jackson. His voice was different. But that was why he pushed all my buttons. He was getting under my skin. He was having the same visceral effect on me Jackson had.

I pulled over and it was everything I could do to hold in my tears. It was embarrassing. I’d brought myself to the verge of crying just by thinking of Jackson. I almost felt unfaithful. I
belonged
to Jackson. I’d told myself I didn’t, on the tenth anniversary of our meeting I’d released myself from my pledge to him, but somehow my heart hadn’t received the message. I’d promised myself to Jackson Jones. He was the one I wanted.

This guy had no right getting into a car with me and reminding me of the feeling Jackson had given me.

I still hadn’t even seen his face and I never wanted to. I just wanted him to get out, to leave me alone. God, would I never get over Jackson? I was cursed. He’d been right all along. He’d told me, the very moment I first set eyes on him, that I’d regret ever meeting him. How was it possible that Jackson could be the very best thing, and the very worst thing, to ever happen to me?

“What’s wrong?” the man said. “Look. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Get out,” I said.

“This is my fault,” he said.

“Just get out of my car.”

“Look at my face,” he said.

But for some reason I couldn’t. It was dark, I’d been driving, I still hadn’t gotten a good look at him. But something inside me refused to look.

“Get out,” I said again, keeping my eyes glued to the steering wheel.

This man was a betrayal of everything I’d stood for. The feelings he brought to the surface were a betrayal of Jackson’s memory. Only one man had the right to push my buttons, and it wasn’t this guy.

He was still sitting there, next to me.

“Get out,” I said again, still resolutely refusing to look at him.

“All right,” he said. “I understand.”

He took something from his pocket, and for a second I was afraid it was going to be a weapon. It wasn’t. It was a trinket. A stupid trinket. A chain of some sort.

He hung it from the rearview mirror, a pendant of some sort dangling from it.

What was that supposed to be? A memento?

“I understand, Faith,” he said, and then, just like a ghost that appeared in the dead of night, he was gone.

I watched him walk off into the darkness, my headlights illuminating his back.

How had he known my name? I hadn’t told it to him.

He was getting farther away.

I grabbed the pendant from the rearview, hanging on a cheap, silver chain.

It didn’t look like much, a heart shaped pendant, and then, in a flash, it struck me. How had I been so blind? How had I refused to see what was right in front of me?

It was my pendant, my chain.

The one Jackson had snatched from my neck the very first time we met.

I sat there, quivering, and then I pulled into the road and fled.

Chapter 25

Jackson

W
HAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH ME?

What the ever-loving-hell was wrong with me?

What was I afraid of?

Why didn’t I say something? Why didn’t I tell her who I was?

She’d know now. She’d see the chain and pendant and remember everything. It would all click. The filthy traveler she’d just kicked out of her car was Jackson Jones, the man she’d given a son to.