Chapter 1

Ivy

Ithink I’ve broken him.

Yep. Definitely broken. He’s just sitting there, staring. Don’t worry, he was fine a moment ago, and he’ll come out of it in a minute, I’m sure. Well, I think he will. For now though, he’s all slack-jawed, pale skin, and mouth flapping without a sound coming out. It’s rather amusing.

If the look in his eyes wasn’t one of pure shock, I could be quite flattered. It’s been a while since a man glanced my way, let alone stared at me for quite this long.

Oh, there are sounds happening, I think he’s coming round. “My teenage daughter? And your… They were…”

The widening of his eyes, the quick glance around the quiet café we’re sitting in the back corner of, it’s more than I can take, and I push it further, put it as bluntly as possible, just to get more of this hilariously comical reaction from him. Honestly, it’s like he’s a cartoon right now, eyes almost out on stalks.

“On the bed. With the laptop on, and clearly copying—”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. You can stop,” he interrupts, hand rubbing across his jaw.

I’m trying not to giggle. I’m really trying. His face is just a picture though, and I can’t help but break.

He looks at me, horrified. “You think this is funny?”

If he could see his face, he’d be laughing too. It’s a pleasant face though. At least, it is when it’s not stuck in a look of absolute shock. Actually, it’s more than pleasant, on a scale of one to a Hemsworth, he’s a full-on Chris. He’s also pretty new here though, and the fact that until today we’ve never spoken means I try to rein in my laughter, be a little more serious.

That was my first impression of him – serious. He’d simply turned up to volunteer at the school gardens one weekend. Nobody knew who he was, none of us had ever seen him before, and he was definitely new to town. Of course, looking like he does, it took only minutes for Clipboard Claire and her coven of PTA cronies to swarm him and start their interrogation.

I’ll give him credit though, despite the amount of heads he turned and the number of eyelash flutter and hair flick combos he was subjected to, he didn’t let them fawn over him for long, especially when the more personal questions started to fly. Once he’d revealed his name was Dan and that him and his daughter Cassie hadn’t long moved to town, he’d asked what needed doing and got on with it. Good for him, they’re a nosy bunch if you don’t give them boundaries. I got the same treatment when me and Fallon moved here four years ago.

He’d barely spoken to anyone after that and I’d heard Claire make whispered comments to her little flock of followers, that he was unsociable, standoffish, that if his daughter was anything like him, she wouldn’t fit in with the Westshore Secondary kids at all. Claire really shouldn’t make assumptions, especially as her own daughter, Cleo-Jayne, is the most sullen teenager I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Anyway, the fact Claire was dubious about him didn’t seem to put the others off, and they spent the afternoon flirting obnoxiously with him. Her assessment also didn’t ring true for me, even though he seemed a little serious, it didn’t really fit with the whole turning up to volunteer thing. It meant I found myself watching him a few times throughout the afternoon, saw him laugh with the few other dads who had also come along, make silly faces at a toddler just to make her smile after she fell over, and he worked his arse off too. There were also moments he looked a little lost, stared across the field like maybe he wanted to be somewhere else.

“Ivy!”

Oops, I got a little lost in my thoughts there. Guess I should answer him.

“If you’re asking if I find this funny, yes. Your shocked face is quite something. Do I find the fact I found our kids in bed together funny? No, but I’m not as stressed as you seem to be about it.”

He takes a moment, shakes his head. “I’m not stressed by it. I just thought they were friends.”

I can’t help it. I can’t, I’ve no power over my mouth at all. “They are, but maybe they’re just better friends than we thought. The kind that come with certain benefits.”

There it is, the eyes out on stalks look again.

“Fuck. You mean, they’re not even having a relationship?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter?”

“You don’t know if your daughter is dating? Why the hell not?”

Hang on now, let’s not start with the accusations. “Do you know if yours is?”

He looks suitably guilty. “Fair point. But didn’t you ask? You know, when you found them … when you walked in on them … doing…”

“The sex stuff? Did I mention the—”

“Yeah. That. And yes, you did.”

The shade of red he turns is delightful, it even hits the tips of his ears. It’s kind of cute. And it’s only added to by the squirming in his seat and the uncomfortable rub to the back of his neck. I’ve got to stop doing this to him, but it’s so much fun.

I could have asked if they were dating, but I didn’t. Quite honestly, it was more for his daughter’s sake. Cassie’s only been over a few times, struck up this almost instant friendship with my Fallon once she started at her school. It wasn’t the right time, she was embarrassed.

Fallon wasn’t in the slightest. But then, we have a different relationship than a lot of mothers and their teen daughters. It’s a little cliché, but we really are the best of friends. We’ll most likely chat about it over dinner later. I don’t tell him this, though.

“Look, they’re embarrassed right now. We can talk to them about it later. I left them at mine, told them to take their time, that I’d be back in a couple hours.

He drags a hand through his dark hair as he stands, chair scraping across the grey-tiled floor. Those cobalt eyes fix on me, but all I can think about is stroking down that piece of hair he’s left sticking up.

“You left them having sex?” he hisses.

“I think I might have ruined the mood somewhat, so I’m guessing they’re not still at it.”

From the fact I’m now watching his back walk out the door, I’m thinking that’s not the answer he wanted. Ugh, now I’ve got to go after him.

“Dan, wait.”

I place my hand on his forearm as I catch up to him at the corner. He stops but doesn’t look at me, and I can see his jaw ticking. Oh, he’s mad.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, but am suddenly thrust forward, a teen, looking very much like Cleo-Jayne skateboarding off down the street.

I slam into Dan’s chest and large hands wrap around my upper arms, steady me. He’s around a foot taller than me and I’m instantly enveloped in his scent, all fresh soap and laundry detergent, with just a hint of engine oil.

“You okay?”

Clearly, I must have hit my head on his rock-hard pecs or something because, for some reason, I’m currently unable to speak.

“Ivy? Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, simply manoeuvres me from the flow of foot traffic, across the pavement, and against the window of the nearest shop.

“That was some hit you took, you alright?” he tries again, a finger hooked under my chin as he tilts my face to his.

No, no, no. This isn’t happening. I pull back, look up, get locked in that gaze once more, and oh fuck, I can’t let this happen. It’s all well and good appreciating a good-looking man, acknowledging just how handsome he might be, but this, the tightening nipples, the fanny flutters, the reaction my body is having on the most primal level possible, it’s not something that happens anymore. Not since my divorce six years ago. To be honest, not for a good few years before that either.

“Earth to Ivy.”

That voice, those eyes. Nope. Can’t do it. Won’t do it. “I’m fine,” I say as I step sideways and put some space between the two of us.

“Good. Now, seeing as you don’t seem to give a shit what’s happening at your house, I need to go pick up Cass.”

His flip-flop from gentle and concerned to serious and ever so slightly snarky jars me a little. Again though, I’m not feeling like it’s the true him. I’ve a feeling I actually just got a glimpse at the real Dan, that maybe he’s got a story, a reason for these rather pensive and sometimes sombre looks that flicker across his face. But then, haven’t we all got a story?

Sadly, though, my knee-jerk reaction is to push back at his attitude.

“Maybe I don’t want you at my house. Maybe you’re going to make a scene and make all of this worse for Cass. What is your problem anyway? You got an issue with her sexuality?”

I go to walk away, but he clasps my wrist.

“No, I don’t have an issue with it. She announced at eight years old she was going to marry a girl because boys are yucky. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but over the years, although she’s never actually told me, it’s something I’ve suspected. I hoped she’d tell me when she was ready. And it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. She can be whoever she wants, and with whoever she wants. What kind of arsehole do you think I am?”

The kind whose fingers I’d like to remain wrapped around my wrist. Maybe in bed, holding me down as… What is wrong with me? What the hell is going on with my body right now?

Hold on. What did he just say? Fuck. I essentially outed Cassie to her dad. I didn’t even consider the fact he might not know. Fuck. This isn’t good. I need to speak to the girls before he does.

I shake his hand from my wrist. “I don’t think you’re an arsehole. You just seem to have some kind of problem with this. And if it isn’t about Cassie then … You have a problem with Fallon?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t have a problem with her. She’s a lovely girl. But they’re sixteen.”

“And?”

His whole manner changes, becomes softer, wistful even. “And she’s my baby girl. And she’s having sex.”

The look of utter devastation on his face makes me want to try and stop the hurt he’s feeling.

“It’s not like she’s going to get pregnant,” I say, trying to relieve the tension just a little.

Another eye roll and he walks off. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

I consider letting him go. He’s walking in the wrong direction for my place anyway, I could easily just head back and talk to the girls. There’s obviously more going on here than meets the eye, though, and once again I chase him down the street.

“Look, they’re sixteen, they’re going to experiment, they’re going to do things we probably don’t even know about,” I say as I fall into step beside him just as he enters the small local park, a smattering of crocuses and daffodils lining the path.

“That’s exactly it,” he replies, still walking. “They’re sixteen and already she’s having sex. She’s grown up and is having all these thoughts and feelings that I have no knowledge of. She doesn’t talk to me, she hasn’t really since…”

As he trails off, I recognise the tone in his voice, the uncertainty, the confusion, the worry.

“When did you and her mother split?”

He stops walking immediately, a brief close of his eyes and a deep breath before he allows himself to speak. “She walked out when Cass was ten. Out of the blue just declared she wasn’t really wife or mother material, that she wanted to return to her career. And that career takes her all over the world. We’ve not seen her since.”

“That must have been hard on Cassie. On you too. I’m sorry.”

He stands up a little straighter, shakes himself almost as if trying to rid himself of the memories.

“For what it’s worth, Cassie’s a very sensible sixteen-year-old. You’ve raised her well,” I say.

A smile flickers on his face but fades all too quickly. “Flattering my dad skills isn’t going to make me feel any different about her having sex. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not flattering you. You’ve raised her for the last six years, you’ve clearly done something right. But honestly, you’re going to have to realise she’s not a baby anymore. She’s your baby, sure, but she’s a young woman now. With needs that she’s going to explore.”

“At sixteen? Is that even normal?”

I can’t help but laugh as he slumps down on a bench. “When did you start having sex? I’d put bets on it being before sixteen.”

The silence is deafening as I take a seat next to him. “That’s a yes if ever I heard one.”

A frown creases his brow. “Fifteen. But she’s a—”

“If you say ‘she’s a girl’, I’m going to be seriously offended. You don’t think we have wants and needs?”

“At sixteen?”

“Yes, at sixteen. Before that even. I started masturbating at thirteen, lost my virginity at seventeen. Alex Edwards, it was … awkward.”

“Alright, back in the room, Little Miss Daydream. So, you’re saying all girls…”

“Trust me, Cassie is perfectly normal.”

He falls silent again, the same look on his face I saw the day he stared out across the school field. It goes on for so long that I start to feel uncomfortable. And when I’m uncomfortable, I ramble.

“Six years ago, I picked up Fallon up from school, did a bit of shopping, and when we got back an hour later, Stu, my husband, had gone. A couple weeks later, divorce papers. I still don’t know what happened, where he is, what I did wrong. All I know is it seemed he’d been planning it for some time.”

His hand covers mine where it grips the bench and all thoughts of my ex-husband go straight out my mind. Instead, sparks skitter throughout my body, my skin burns with a craving I’ve not felt for years, and heat pools between my legs.

“You deserved better.”

They’re words I’ve heard before, from friends, family, people who knew us as a couple. But somehow, coming from a virtual stranger, someone who probably isn’t my biggest fan after today, they hit a little different. Somehow bring me strength.

“I did. Fallon did.”

I slowly slide my hand from beneath his, aware of the feelings surging inside me, but now pushing them down as I remember the past hurt and pain. It seems both of us were blindsided six years ago. In very similar ways. And I don’t know about him, but I’m never going there again.