CHARLOTTE
I honestly had no memory of the drive home from the compound. I literally remembered Deck placing me gently inside my car, one sweet kiss, and then I was putting the key to my flat in the lock and going inside.
I should have been concerned and alarmed that I didn’t remember operating a manual vehicle eighteen kilometres through traffic lights, roundabouts, and stop signs, but I wasn’t. I was too shocked by the night’s events. I was overwhelmed by the handsome single father. He wanted me. He hadn’t made that a secret at all, and I wasn’t used to being wanted.
I was used to being used—used to disappointment and used to rejection.
I was certainly not used to being pursued, cornered, and then kissed like Deck kissed me in the car park at his compound.
It hadn’t been a deep, all-consuming tongue kiss. It was better. It was a promise of more to come. A commitment to giving us a chance. It was a claiming. Well, that was how I was taking it. I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin, an ex-ballet dancer, who had absolutely no one else in my world other than my students and my cat—my two-year-old chinchilla, a silver Persian named Winnie, who was now dancing around my feet, her melodic meowing welcoming me home…or chiding me for being so late.
Whichever it was, I leant down and picked the huge cat up. And when I said huge, I meant it. Her fluffy, silver and white coat made her look even bigger. It took a lot of grooming, but she was so worth it. She came into my life at a time when I was at my lowest. My dancing career had come to a grinding halt. Not one of my family members wanted to have anything to do with me after a family incident that hadn’t even been my fault. The courts had seen it differently, and I was humiliated in front of the entire town and friends—well, not so much in front of her friends—when the decision had come down, and no one took my side.
Walking into the small kitchenette, I went about filling Winnie’s food bowls with milk, dry food, and some water. Shiloh would love to meet Winnie, I thought absently as I watched the cat eat her food like she hadn’t eaten for weeks.
“Silly cat,” I muttered to myself, walking out and taking the twenty steps it took to get to my bedroom slash living room. The flat I rented was so tiny that it didn’t even have room for a clothes closet. So, I’d brought an old antique-looking wardrobe that stood to the side of my bed. It had mirrored doors, which became my vanity, too. The only other room in the place was the bathroom, which, surprisingly, was quite large compared to the rest of the place. It was large enough to house my washer and dryer, and the best part was it had an old-fashioned claw-footed bathtub, complete with the old-fashioned tapware and chain plug. I loved it and used it every single night without fail.
Bustling around the room for my bathrobe, I checked on Winnie’s progress before I picked up her food bowl for the night—there was a reason Winnie was four kilograms heavier than she should be. Well, two reasons, really. I had to take quite a bit of the blame, as I was the doofus who gave her too much food in the first place—but I allowed her to keep her milk, as I didn’t have it in me to be too cruel and deprive her of everything. Rueful thoughts of my overweight cat led me back to thinking of Shiloh and her daddy while I filled the tub with hot water.
I was curious about Shiloh’s mother. Her school records just stated that the mother was deceased and other than Deck, there were ten other men mentioned as contacts for the little girl.
My smile widened as the image of Shiloh’s attire today came to mind. Her tutu was a constant every day. Always pink. Her hair, though, was different quite often, I mean really different, from styles to degrees of messiness. Giggling, I lowered myself into the steaming liquid, a moan of pleasure escaping my lips. There really wasn’t anything better than a steaming hot bath.
I knew I was on the right track thinking those ten men on the contact list were also responsible for taking turns dressing and getting Shiloh ready for day care. The vision was just too funny—big, bad former soldiers, experts in the field of weapons and barehanded combat, using ribbons and hair bands to put up the long raven hair of the club princess.
In the privacy of my bathroom, I could freely admit to the bubbles and shampoo bottle that I wanted that, too. Family. I wanted to be a part of something. To belong and be important. Missed if I wasn’t there. Cared for when I was.
My hand absently traced the scars on my lower stomach. They were not as ugly as they once were, but they were still there. Still reminding me that I was not missed. Not cared for and not loved.
Suddenly, my bath mood was ruined. I was too inside my own head to enjoy it.
Getting out of the tub, I made quick work of drying myself off and dressing in my silk nightie. I didn’t bother with eating. My stomach was churning too much with bad memories to enjoy anything else for the night. Instead, I grabbed Winnie and cuddled down into my bed, hoping her warm and abundant fur would help stave off the chill of the flat. Heating cost money, and I certainly didn’t have much of that these days.
I laughed at myself. “Hello, pity party for one,” I said aloud. Only Winnie was around to hear it, thank God. I closed my eyes and prayed my estranged family and the memories of them didn’t deprive me of sleep again.
————
“Holy snakes alive,” I wailed as I jumped from my bed, displacing poor Winnie in the process. I’d slept through my alarm. Of all the days to be late. Deck had said he would drop Shiloh off at day care early today so we could chat and get to know each other a little more. And now I would be lucky to make it only a half an hour late. A half hour that would be docked from my wages—that I was sure of. Old Mrs Fumberg hated me with a passion. She didn’t believe the day care needed the dance program and had been trying for twelve months to have it completely disbanded from the curriculum and budget. So this would really please her. And because my family had my wages garnished by nearly half for restitution payments before I even got my hands on it, I needed every single cent.
Rushing around the flat, I dressed quickly, did half a makeup job, and fed Winnie. I managed to throw myself out the door with my stomach growling from no breakfast and no dinner last night. Peachy! Of course, I didn’t think it could get any worse until I got in my car and realised the dial for the lights was in the on position. Great, a flat battery. I allowed the tears to fall.
The pity party was definitely back on.
About an hour later, I was seriously questioning my footwear and my choice of workplace for two reasons. One was being the distance from my house. And two was that I’d rung the office to tell them of my dilemma and that I would be horribly late, only to have the bitter Mrs Fumberg come on the line to inform me I would indeed be docked a minimum of three hours as stated in the laws of our pay agreement. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I got it, you old cow. Maybe a small creature can come by and eat that mole off your chin. The mean-spirited but very fun thought entered my mind, which made me laugh and nearly miss the large, loud, and shiny Harley Davidson cruising on by me. The rider looked over at me and looked almost amused to see a woman walking in a tight, pencil skirt and four-inch stilettos.
Yeah, yeah, have a laugh at the silly, pathetic woman, I thought to myself after he graced me with a similar chin lift that I’d seen from Deck and his brothers yesterday at the compound. Maybe it’s a biker or former soldier thing. I have never seen the male teachers at my old job, or even the male dancers of my former dance company do it. Nope, must be an Alpha thing. My absent and random thoughts pushed me on towards the Sunshine and Daisies building.