SECRET LOVE

Book 2 in the Single Dad Playbook series

arrives October 10, 2024

Chapter 1

Wallowing

HENLEY

I hate it when the alarm goes off during a sex dream.

Lately, that’s the only place I’m getting any.

Rumor has it that professional athletes have pussy falling from the sky day and night, and while I’ve had my share of offers, they do me little good since I’ve always been a one-woman kind of guy. For years, that woman was my ex-wife, Bree, but when she decided she didn’t want to be married to me anymore, I tested out the casual-hookup waters.

Not for me.

Most of the time.

Between football and kids, there’s hardly time anyway.

But on mornings like today, when the blue balls are doing me in, I think maybe I should make time.

I’m not suffering from a broken heart. Bree and I are actually good friends. There’s just no time to go out and find my soulmate while I’m at the height of my career as the wide receiver for the Colorado Mustangs and raising my three daughters.

There’s also no time to wallow.

I take care of my situation in the shower and get dressed quickly. I made the mistake of not stopping by the store yesterday to get my daughters’ favorite bagels and cream cheese and I want to make sure they have them before school. They’re usually at their mom’s during the week, but Bree went out of town, so they’re with me.

I knock lightly on each door, making sure everyone’s awake.

Cassidy groans when I knock on her door, until I remind her that I need to run to the store.

“Okay, I’ll make sure we’re all ready by the time you get back,” she says.

We set this up last night before bed, and there is nothing my girl loves more than being in charge of her sisters. Lately, she’s been a grump of sizable proportions, so I’m celebrating the wins.

“Thanks, Cass,” I tell her. “Get up, girls. I’ll be back with bagels soon. Love you.”

They mutter their sleepy affection and agreement, and I hurry out the door. The parking lot of Aurora’s grocery store is nearly empty when I pull in, and I rush inside, hoping I can avoid anyone I know. For the most part, in the small town of Silver Hills, people are respectful of my privacy. The past three Super Bowl wins have changed that somewhat, with people coming up to congratulate me or to talk about certain plays, but it’s not too bad.

With the cream cheese in hand, I reach out to grab the bag of bagels and a pretty hand with white nail polish bumps into mine.

“Oh, sorry!” a soft voice says, and I turn to look.

The greenest eyes stare up at me from behind black-rimmed glasses, and for a moment I’m quiet as I take in her dark hair pulled back in a bun, those eyes, and her full pink lips. She’s wearing a white button-down shirt, tan dress pants, and a matching jacket…accountant maybe? Something very buttoned up. Sexy librarian comes to mind. Her face is compelling and friendly, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Looks like there’s only one bag left of the cinnamon raisin bagels,” she says.

“Go ahead. You take it,” I say.

“No, I think you were here first. I wasn’t paying attention. Those cinnamon rolls up there were distracting me.” She points up a few shelves, and I spot the tantalizing cinnamon rolls.

My eyes narrow on them. “Oh, those look dangerous.”

She laughs and picks up the package of rolls. “I like to live on the dangerous side.” Her eyes are laughing and my heart does a little stutter-step.

Wait—is she flirting with me? I think she might be flirting with me.

God, I’m horrible at this.

I chuckle. “For someone who lives on the dangerous side, you look awfully—” I clear my throat as I wave my hand over her conservative ensemble.

She puts her hand on her hip in mock offense. “Awfully what?”

“Awfully proper,” I say, grinning.

“Don’t you know you can’t judge a book by its cover?” She laughs and my heart does that weird thing again.

She’s really pretty when she laughs. And when she doesn’t.

“So, what are you…banker by day and cinnamon roll assassin by night?”

She winks and starts walking away, looking back at me over her shoulder. “Something like that.”

“Do you have a name?” I call.

“Tru,” she calls back.

Tru. I like that.

I’m still smiling, enjoying those long legs and the way her hips are mesmerizing me with that sway, as she rounds the corner.

She peeks her head back down the aisle and I’m caught standing there drooling after her. Shit, that sex dream must have messed with me more than I realized.

“And you are?” she asks.

I blink, loving that she doesn’t have any idea who I am. That’s rare, especially in this town.

“I’m Henley.”

She lifts her hand in a wave. “Bye, Henley.”

I stand there for another minute until I remember that I’m in a hurry. I told the girls I wouldn’t be long at all, and here I am, dilly-dallying in the grocery aisle and lusting after a stranger.

Not a stranger…Tru.

When I get home, I catch myself whistling, pausing when I hear a racket upstairs.

“Girls. Everything okay? I’m back from the store. Come eat.”

Footsteps stampede down the stairs and through the hall, and when they reach the kitchen, all three girls start talking at once.

“Dad, Cassidy took so long in the bathroom, I almost wet my pants,” Gracie whines.

“Audrey was in there just as long,” Cassidy says, rolling her eyes.

“No, I wasn’t!” Audrey glares at Cassidy.

Damn. I know an argument’s been brewing for a while when Audrey snaps back. She recently turned nine and hates confrontation. I think Gracie came out of the womb ready to rumble. At six and with two older sisters, she’s already a skilled opponent. And my thirteen-year-old Cassidy, who used to initiate fun games with her little sisters with a sweet smile on her face, is now in the throes of teen hell.

“I don’t know why you all insist on using that one bathroom when we have five,” I mutter. “You each have your own bathroom.”

“It’s the pretty one, Daddy,” Gracie says.

“And the biggest,” Audrey adds.

“I want to move my bedroom just so it can be my bathroom,” Cassidy says. “Alone.”

“Daddy, could you braid my hair?” Gracie asks.

I glance down at her and she looks like she just crawled out of bed. Her light brown hair is sticking up everywhere.

“What have you been doing all this time?” I frown.

“Waiting to go to the bathroom.” She holds her hand toward Cassidy like duh.

I grumble, pulling out a brush that we keep in the junk drawer, along with some hair ties, and motion for her to stand in front of me. She beams up at me.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, peanut.”

I hurriedly brush her hair out and start braiding, while Cassidy and Audrey put their homework in their backpacks.

The braids aren’t my finest work, but they’ll do. I squeeze Gracie’s shoulder and unload the grocery bag quickly.

“How about we eat?” I set the food on the table and turn to grab the plates so they can get started. “We don’t have much time this morning—”

The sound of glass breaking and a shriek is followed by more arguing. The hell? I glance back to see what happened, and the pitcher filled with orange juice is now on the floor and on Cassidy’s clothes.

Cassidy starts crying and runs up the stairs, and Gracie folds her arms over her chest.

“Stay put, I don’t want either of you to get cut on this glass.” I get a towel and broom and start cleaning up the mess. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Cassidy’s mean,” Gracie says. “All the time.”

I make a face. “Not all the time. She was nice at dinner last night.”

Audrey snorts, and again, I look at her in surprise.

“Noted,” I say.

Cassidy was just barely tolerable at dinner last night, and we all know it.

Audrey grins at me, and I tug on her ponytail.

“Mom says Cassidy’s got big feelings right now,” Gracie says, around a mouthful of bagel.

I nod. Bree and I are in agreement about this. I don’t know what it’s like to deal with the hormones girls do, but my life between the ages of eleven and fifteen were torturous, and Bree assures me it’s worse for girls.

“Your mom’s right. Cassidy does have big feelings right now. I’ll talk with your sister, but let’s try to be extra kind to her, okay? When we’re struggling with something, it helps when the people we love are gentle with us.”

“She’s not being very gentle,” Gracie says, her lips going out in a pout.

Audrey nods in agreement, but when I look at her, her expression turns sheepish.

“We treat people how we want to be treated, even if they don’t do the same. Okay?” I wait and there’s a long pause before both girls reluctantly agree. “All right. Finish up with breakfast and then go brush your teeth. We need to be out the door in ten minutes.”

I get a bagel ready for Cassidy and take it upstairs, knocking on her door.

“Come in,” she says quietly.

When I open the door, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed in her changed outfit. She wipes her face with the back of her hand and lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay, bunny?”

She stares down at the floor and shakes her head, and I’m ready to fight an army and whoever else stands in my way to make my girl feel better.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” I reach out and take her hand and she clasps it hard.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she says.

She’s usually trying to grow up way too fast and sounds like a teenager most of the time, but now, she sounds like my little girl. The one that used to run and jump into my arms every time I got home, yelling, “Daddy!” like I was the best dad ever.

“Why not?”

“Mrs. Carboni hates me. She’s so mean. She says I’m wasting her time.”

“What? Why would she say that?”

She swallows hard. “I didn’t turn in my project.”

I gape at her. “Mrs. Carboni is your English teacher, right? You’re talking about the project you worked on all last week?”

She nods, and a few more tears drip from her brown eyes that are just like mine. I can hardly take it. I put my arm around her, holding her as she sobs, just as Gracie yells up the stairs, “Audrey says we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now!”

“We’ll be right there,” I call back. “Cassidy, I don’t understand why you didn’t turn it in. I looked over that project. Your mom did too. It was good work.”

She doesn’t say anything and I hand her a tissue from her bedside table. She wipes her face and nose and takes another shaky breath.

“I’ll have a talk with her, okay? But you need to turn your project in. Turn it in today and I’ll call and set something up.”

She shakes her head and says in a much lighter tone, “It’s okay, Dad. I’ll be okay. You don’t need to talk to her. I was just having a freak-out. I feel better now.”

I frown. The mental whiplash is too much for me this early in the morning. I’m much better at getting whiplash on the field than I am with the mental gymnastics my girls put me through every day.

“You’ll turn in your project?” I ask.

She nods and even musters a grin.

“Okay?” I say, reluctantly.

“We should really get going, Dad. Mom will be so annoyed with you if you make us late.”

I stand and stare after her as she hurries out of the room.

“I’m not the one making you late,” I call.

She pokes her head back in the door and I see the mischief in her eyes.

“Hurry up,” she mouths.

“Trying my patience this morning,” I say, shaking my head.

She grins then and I’m happy to see that smile on my girl’s face.

We hustle down the stairs.

“Let’s go, kiddos.” I grab the keys and help Gracie with her backpack. The girls start thumb wars to see who gets the front seat in the Suburban. Audrey wins today, causing a new round of complaints.

I have the cure. No matter how much they argue, when I turn on Taylor Swift, they start singing “Cruel Summer” at the top of their lungs, and all is well.

I drop them off and drive to the gym, still humming to Taylor. 

Damn, my daughters keep me hopping. 

It felt good to have that small interaction with that woman at the store. Really good. The way she looked me over makes me think I’ve still got it.

I wonder what she’d think if she knew how chaotic my life is.

Too bad I’ll never find out.