Bossy Single Dad (Bosses and Babies) by Crystal Monroe

Author:Crystal Monroe [Monroe, Crystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

“I want to try something,” Weston said one afternoon while he was at home before it was time to pick up Teagan from school.

“What is it?” I asked, stuffing the last of my turkey sandwich in my mouth. I’d been fighting nausea all day, and it was the first time I’d had an appetite.

I eyed him as I took a large gulp from my soda.

“I think we should practice driving.”

“You already know how to drive, silly,” I joked.

Secretly, a stirring of anxiety began to sour the food sitting in my stomach. I knew what he was getting at.

“Don’t use humor to change the subject,” he said.

“I’m not.” I gave him a feigned innocent smile.

“You should face your fears,” he said. “It’s called exposure therapy.”

“How very psychological of you,” I teased.

His lips curled into a smile, but his expression was sheepish. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Trying to joke around when I want to talk about a serious topic.”

I groaned and pushed my empty plate across the counter. “I can drive.”

“But you rarely do.”

“I don’t need to.” I shrugged. “I work where I live.”

I wanted to say that I worked from home, but the King house wasn’t my permanent home, was it?

“Ellie.” His voice was gentle as he reached over and placed his hand over mine. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?” I blinked up at him, trying not to appear pitiful, but it was a hard sell. He already knew this was a sensitive topic for me.

“Sure.” His tone was casual. “We can just practice right here in the neighborhood.”

“Okay …” I trailed off, giving him a skeptical frown. “I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It will be fine, I promise. You’ll drive my car.”

“You have a fancy car, though,” I said. “What if I crash it?”

“You’re not going to crash it.” He laughed. “The speed limit is twenty around here.”

“I can do some damage at twenty miles an hour, trust me.”

“Prove it, then,” Weston said. “I bet you can’t crash my car within the first ten minutes of trying.”

“Now you’re using reverse psychology on me,” I said. “Are you sure you’re in the right field?”

“Whatever works.” He hitched his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and grabbed his keys from the brown wicker basket on the counter beside the garage door.

“I don’t even have shoes on,” I protested.

“You’re just stalling,” he called out over his shoulder without even bothering to glance back at me. He opened the garage door and stepped out. “I’ll be waiting out here.”

Through the open garage door, I could see his SUV. I swallowed hard and stared at it. The car was shiny like a candy apple, fast and sleek. To me, it was a steep mountain to climb.

With a deep breath, I slipped on my sandals and followed him into the garage. He opened the driver’s side door for me, and I climbed in. He sat beside me on the passenger side. It was hard to breathe in the cramped space, and my stomach turned.

“All right, so you press this button to turn on the car,” Weston instructed.

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