You Can Count On Me (Christmas Daddies, #2)

by Fae Quin

I wasn’t boyfriend material or dad material. I was barely even uncle material—and that was on a good day.

So really, refusing to date my neighbor wasn’t because I had anything personal against single dads or their adorable snot-nosed gremlins.

Loss leaves wounds that never quite heal, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be prepared to confront those demons.

Baseball bats, mothers, and creepy shrines aside, I didn’t know how I’d survive Rooster in those tight fucking pants.

All I’d done was nod like an idiot and try not to float away, I was so happy. I’d been so excited afterward, like a kid on Christmas, it’d taken hours to fall asleep.

Or tried to. Because when I leaned down, I kinda accidentally…ate him instead? A bit.

As cute as she was, she wasn’t gay-Jesus. She couldn’t just part the seas of Belleville and magic me up a boyfriend with a flick of her wrist.

“Pops says violence is never the answer,” Bubba quoted again, but his eyes were full of mischief this time. “But Theodore Roosevelt said ‘speak softly and carry a big stick.’ And he was the president, so…” He shrugged as if that explained everything.

And god, if his talking voice had rendered me breathless, his singing just about killed me.

I was all about instant gratification, not big green doe eyes and adoration. But god. I could not stop thinking about Rooster.

My entire body was full of butterflies, fluttering their wings so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. I’d never fallen in love before. Never had a crush. But there was no other explanation for what this feeling was. And I’d already fucking screwed it up.

The entire time she moved, Bubba stared at her, his eyes wide like he’d never seen anything more amazing in his life.

everyone with a pet be like:

Suddenly the thought of never interacting with either of them outside of nodding as we passed each other in the street made me sick to my stomach.

I’d never had my heart flutter while I watched another man take his trash out.

I felt like a goddamn monk, fantasizing about our legs touching like it was the most tantalizing foreplay.

Our friendship blossomed, fragile and new, but precious all the same.

Maybe one day, if I proved myself hard enough, I’d get invited to sit at their table with them. Maybe they’d realize they need me. No one had ever needed me before. A man could dream.

“Did you think I’d gone to jail?” I asked, more than a little amused as I waited for his answer. “Well no,” he shrugged, pouting. “But I’d hoped.”

These two lost boys had me wrapped around their little fingers and they didn’t even know it.

Quicker than I could blink, I was halfway to the playground, alarm bells ringing in my head, and anger unlike anything I’d ever felt before burning hot and ashy in my chest. I ate up the distance faster than if I’d been flying, my vision going red-hot with rage. No one touched what was mine and got away with it. No one.

“Did you just spill milk all over my kid’s fucking backpack?”

His green eyes were wide and wet, and full of wonder as he stared slack-jawed at Trent like he was the second coming of Christ.

I let him hold me, and I wasn’t quite so scared anymore.

Trent was sunshine, laughter, and broad shoulders. And he might be strong enough to carry us both.

No sparks. My. Ass. Goddamn fireworks were going off inside me.

Ached to hear that voice—sweet as honey, low and melodic. Ached for the words to be mine, and mine alone. Ached to soak up his lilting accent, to memorize every dip and cadence.

I wished—naively—that I could be there to hold them both so the world wouldn’t splinter them apart.

Please God, help me so I don’t beg to lick his ass. Amen.

they stared at Bubba like he was goddamn cupcake Jesus.

And the thought of becoming trapped in a life I wasn’t ready for had made me flee. Away from everyone I was close to. To build walls to keep them out.

“I can be big for you sometimes, if you need it. I don’t mind.”

“What about the chicken?” he asked, his voice muffled. “Just leave it in the fridge.”

Wasn’t like I was about to tell Trent’s damn mama that the only books I read were ones that had more sex than plot and a whole lot of dicks. Even monster ones. Especially monster ones. With knots.

It was the kind of voice someone had when they felt safe. When they felt comfortable. When they knew they were going to be listened to, and not talked at.

“I’m terrified because you’re everything. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.

This was goddamn monster porn.

once again resisted the urge to join him under the spray even though I wanted to thank his ass for its service quite liberally with my tongue.

If ass eating was an Olympic sport, Trent Montgomery would’ve won the gold fucking medal.

“I know you’re probably disappointed—because you wanted to be fucked in the woods like an animal—you sexy fiend.”

Mistakes are just lessons.

His socks had holes. That’s probably how all the mischief managed to sneak in.

I felt like that sometimes. Beaten, but working. Used, but still usable.

Mama’s eyes twinkled like the goddamn Christmas tree was connected to her brain.

“He’s not pregnant if that’s what you’re asking.”

But I realized now—being broken didn’t mean I was unworthy.