Dream Boy Read online

  I adjust the hardhat on my head. "Sorry about that." I dust my hands on the back of my grimy pants. "Didn't mean to scare you."

  The well-maintained woman glances down at the cupcake sitting on the toe of her pristine white tennis shoe. Her cheeks flush with shame. "That's what I get for trying to sneak in sugar after my workout." She gives me an empty-sounding, rich-people laugh. All control. No depth.

  An unsettled feeling rises into my awareness and really, I just want to get away from this person. I snatch up the fallen dessert and toss it on top of an overflowing garbage can off to the side of the porch. “I'll go get some paper or something to clean that up," I offer turning in the direction of Pauly's truck.

  "Oh, we've got paper towels somewhere in the kitchen, I'm sure." She sweeps her hand through the air. "Come inside. I just brought you fellows a ton of snacks.”

  "Nah. I'm not hungry. Thanks for the offer but—"

  She bats her eyes at me from under the rim of her pink sun visor. "I've got triple chocolate..."

  My stomach growls, betraying my hunger. She grins victoriously.

  I throw a glance over my shoulder. "I don't think that would be appropriate, Mrs. Davies."

  "Call me Clara. And don't let the whole busty cougar vibe throw you off. I'm harmless. I don't bite. At least not without clear and explicit instructions to do so." She winks and sashays inside.

  Something tells me not to do it. But because I'm starving like a stray dog, I follow her into the kitchen.

  I lean on the counter by the door and let my eyes travel around as she opens up the cupcake box. There's a layer of dust on every surface and the kitchen furniture is covered with thick plastic sheets. A huge zigzagged crack runs up the wall behind the stove and there’s severe water damage on the ceiling.

  None of that fully takes away from the beauty of the house with its wide-open floor plans, its clean lines and geometrical style. It has a glass, steel and concrete design and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a clear sightline to the coppery hills in the distance.

  Clara hands me a cupcake and leans on the counter across from me causing her cleavage to spill from the neckline of her fitted, sleeveless blouse. "This place is in serious need of a makeover. You guys have your work cut out for you, huh?" She swipes her tongue through the frosting of her own cupcake.

  She reeks of desperation. She's looking for attention, I won't give it to her. I keep the conversation strictly business. "Yes, it's a gorgeous house. We'll get it back in tip-top shape for you and your family in no time."

  Her shiny, Botoxed veneer fractures when I say that. "This house is going on the market," she winces visibly. Her skinny frame seems to close in on itself with grief when she speaks. "My husband—well, soon-to-be-ex-husband, actually—bought this place for our son and his ex after they got engaged. They were supposed to move in right after the wedding two years ago. But my idiot spawn called off the whole thing at the last minute and broke the poor girl's heart."

  She sets down her cupcake and wanders into the living room, swiping a silver frame off the mantle. The wheels in my head spring into action. Wait...No, it couldn't be...Nah...

  She stares lovingly at the picture as she approaches me. "Isn't she a beauty?" It's a picture of Sophia. Standing next to some clean-cut, blond-haired bastard in a candy pink polo shirt. “They were supposed to fill this house up with adorable little grandchildren for me to dote on. But Josh had to go screw that up for me…and now, I’m just alone.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I’m still struggling to cope with my shock as I stare at Sophia’s picture.

  Clara’s phone rings on the counter and she glances at it. “Speak of the devil…” she mutters. “It’s my son. Excuse me. I have to take this call.” She opens the door and goes out to the front lawn to answer phone. The room tilts ever so slightly. This mini-mansion was supposed to be Sophia's home. This is the life she was supposed to live. With that guy.

  My mind shifts back to the dank, little motel room that I'm renting out by the night while I’m here in Copper Heights. All of a sudden, it feels ridiculous for me to even imagine being with Sophia when that's all I have to offer. She seems more unattainable than ever.

  At the approaching stampede of boot-covered feet, my attention snaps back to my surroundings. My coworkers storm the kitchen, eager to get their hands on the cupcakes.

  I edge away from the kitchen counter and wander into the open-concept living area just off to the side. The glutton for punishment in me leads me over to the mantle. Even more dusty pictures of Sophia sit above the fireplace.

  Pictures of her with that douche nugget, looking all posh on yachts and at fancy restaurants and lounging on private beaches. Doing things I could never afford to do for her. It's a harsh reminder that it doesn't actually matter how much I want her. The reality is, she'd never settle for a guy like me...if I were the settling down kind of guy to begin with.

  Anyway, it’s starting to make sense why she was trying so hard to keep her distance from me all throughout Leo’s birthday party. I may have been good enough for a one-night stand on her worst night but beyond that, I’m not her type.

  Loud and obnoxious as always, Dave rolls into my space with his loyal disciples trailing along. "Mrs. Davies has got a heck of a rack on her, doesn't she?"

  Now is really not the time, asshole...

  He’s not smart enough to see the scowl on my face for the threat that it is. He leans an elbow on my shoulder, huddling over me like we're old bros who go way back. "So, check this out—word on the street is that that sexy GMILF is on the market again. Her hubby served her some divorce papers and she's looking for a little companionship and reassurance, if you know what I mean.”

  I shrug him off of me. “How are you brave enough to touch me? Are you that stupid?”

  "GMILF is grandmother I'd like to fuck, by the way," Jim tells me because apparently, it is absolutely crucial to him that I understand Dave's vulgar acronym.

  How are these fools qualified to operate heavy machinery?!

  Dave beams. “The woman has the hots for me. She totally rubbed her ass on me the other day and pretended it was an accident. But Archie, you look like you desperately need to get your rocks off. So, have at her. You have my blessing. I'm taking one for the team."

  "Man—just shut up..." I grumble. He doesn’t realize it but he's a half-sentence away from getting my fist rammed through his teeth.

  Jim scrunches his nose like he smells a stench. “Sloppy seconds, man. Nobody wants yours.”

  Dave prods me on. "C'mon. My seconds aren't that sloppy."

  "Nah, I know what the problem is," Jim says. "He's still waiting to swoop Daycare Chic Barbie off her feet." He nods his chin at Sophia's picture in my hand.

  Dave’s face twists with disgust when he glances at the photo. "Get off it, dude. The chick's a loser." He turns to walk away.

  All I see is red.

  And the next thing I know, my big body is flying across the distance between us. Stunned by my sudden burst of movement, Dave spins toward me and my fist connects with the center of his face. He goes stumbling backward but I grab him by the collar and drag him across the living room and out the door onto the lawn. I fling him to the ground.

  Each punch is deeply gratifying. Each kick is a burst of sweet relief. After a while, it has nothing to do with him. It's all about the fact that I finally—finally—having an outlet for all the frustration I've been feeling.

  Logically, I know it's not fair to pin this rage on Dave. It's not his fault that he's a first class idiot. But now that I've started unleashing my pent-up fury, I don't know how to stop.

  I'm vaguely aware of the roar of an engine coming closer, the grinding sound of tires crushing gravel, the slam of a vehicle door.

  Big hands are on my shoulders, pulling me back and shoving me hard. Somehow, they manage to drag me away and prop me up against the side of one of the pickup trucks. I blink a few times, coming back into my body. Charl
ie's red, angry face comes into focus.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" He gives me a shake.

  I glance over at Dave. He's a bloody mess on the ground. Paint cans have been overturned. A scaffolding knocked over.

  "That guy's a fucking clown," I yell, jabbing a finger in the direction of my writhing co-worker.

  My eyes connect with Clara's. She's standing near the door with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Her lips are thinned. Her forehead is pinched. She does not look happy.

  Charlie lowers his voice to a growl that only he and I can hear. "I get it. You're all fucked up in the head right now. I understand. I was fucked up too. For a long time. But this is my business, Archie! My reputation! You can't be throwing tantrums on my worksite."

  Leo steps in between us. “Calm down, fellas.” A hand on Charlie's shoulder. A hand on mine. "Look—I have an idea. Charlie, you go smooth things over with Mrs. Davies. Me and the guys are gonna start cleaning up the mess. Archie, you go take a walk to cool your head—"

  I jerk my shoulder out of his grip. “Hey, guess what? I have an even better idea,” I growl as I tear off my hardhat and chuck it at a wall. A loud, bone-chilling sound rings out as the plastic connects with the concrete. “I fucking quit."

  Even when Leo calls out behind me, I don't look back as I limp off across the paved circular driveway and down the steep hillside back into town.

  11

  Sophia

  Hannah—do not lick that yogurt off your cousin's face!"

  My stern warning flies across the playground to where the little girl is standing on the wide platform of the slide set with poor, unassuming Gaston’s chubby face clenched between her hands. Her tongue pokes out from between her lips, poised and ready.

  The toddler's mischievous eyes dart from me to her younger cousin's yogurt-smeared face and back again as she considers her options. It's like the pivotal moment in a movie where the main character has to choose between good and evil…

  Hannah chooses evil.

  A cringe runs through me when she plunges forward and drags her tongue up the side of the little boy's face.

  Darnnit!

  With River strapped to my chest, I shoot up from the bench on the edge of the sandbox. “Would you take your eyes off your phone for half a second?” I hiss at Ramona who is leaned against the side of the jungle gym, chuckling to herself as she watches Help Helen Smash videos on Facebook.

  I get nothing but a grunt in response from her as I hustle over to put an end to the tongue bath currently in progress.

  When she sees me coming, Hannah hurriedly licks the other side of Gaston’s face. That child is one headstrong, little madam. All the kids at the top of the play set laugh and cheer wildly.

  Children are strange.

  But there's beauty and innocence and possibility in that strangeness. That's why I love my job so much. Grown ups suck. So much. But kids are just starting out, and if molded properly, they can literally be anything. Anything at all.

  I always knew that I wanted to work in the early childhood education field. My life plan had been to become a kindergarten teacher. When I dropped out of school to plan the wedding, that goal veered off track. But my need to work with children only grew stronger when I became pregnant with River.

  From the moment I found out I was bringing life into the world, I knew I needed to be there for every milestone. I didn’t want to miss out on the important moments of my daughter’s life but still, I needed to pay the bills. So, despite the morning sickness and the anxiety and the swollen everything, I got out of bed every morning and I scouted for potential daycare locations. I obtained my certification all while recovering from a C-section and caring for my infant. It was tough and I had to make tough choices. I even pawned my engagement ring because I had to make ends me. But I’m glad I did all that because now, I get to earn a living watching my little girl surrounded by her friends all day long.

  When I was pregnant, a gas leak in the previous daycare location I’d chosen nearly cost me my life. It resulted in River being born weeks before she was due. The one positive thing that came out of that event was the substantial settlement I received from the company that owned the building.

  But let’s face it—I was a single mother with a brand-new baby. I had shit to buy. I burned through that money quickly. But not before putting some money aside for my daughter’s education in a ‘can't touch’ investment account and buying us a comfortable little house where River could play in the backyard. I paid off my debt and I used the rest of the money as a deposit to rent the new daycare facility. Now, my savings are hovering pretty close to zero again. That’s why I need to finally get the daycare center open so I can take on new children and hire new—and better—staff.

  My life isn’t easy. I face struggles every day. Running after a herd of wildebeests—I mean, babies—requires stamina. But despite all the hurdles, there's nothing I'd rather be doing to earn a living.

  My eyes quickly sweep the park as I snatch a wet rag from the bottom of the stroller and start wiping Gaston’s sticky mouth. "Sebastian, stop trying to take off your safety vest!" I call out. “And Ramona, help Melody get into the swing.”

  Just as I’m finished cleaning Gaston’s face, I hear someone singsong my name. “Sophie-Belle! Sophie-Belle! Is that you?”

  My stomach flips with nausea. Oh fuck…

  When I glance over my shoulder, I find Clara approaching, in workout gear and running shoes, her blonde hair pulled into a smooth, low ponytail.

  “Hello there, darling.” When she throws her arms around me and air-kisses my cheeks, the potent vapors from her expensive perfume burn my throat. “I heard you and these little adorable munchkins hang out down here at the park everyday! Wasn’t sure if I’d run into you.”

  “Well, I guess today’s your lucky day!” I say, super high-pitched and gleeful. I silently hope my smile doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

  Clara’s nice. A bit overbearing, but nice. And I can’t blame her for the fact that her son is a certified douche cloth…Or maybe I can. I’m not sure. The point is, as nice as she is, I don’t see any need for us to be chummy after what Josh did to me.

  I watch as she reaches forward and pinches my daughter’s chubby cheek. “Hello my gorgeous. Hello my sweetheart.”

  River stares blankly into the woman’s face for a few seconds then rears her head back and boom!—the wettest, snottiest, windiest sneeze of all time. Right in Clara’s face.

  My daughter looks up at me. I’ve got your back, Mamma, she says with her eyes.

  Clara bursts into laughter, her cheeks aglow with delight.

  “I am so sorry,” I apologize on my daughter’s behalf.

  But Clara is clearly not deterred. “Don’t be silly. My little munchkin can sneeze on me any time she wants.” She produces a napkin from the pocket of her fitted athletic sweater and dabs at her skin.

  She scrutinizes the child’s face and I can tell that she’s searching for some trace of Josh in River’s features. She’s not going to find it.

  “When I found out you were pregnant, I was secretly hoping for a little head of blonde curls. Bright blue eyes.” She giggles to herself. “But this girl is so precious. So gorgeous. God, she looks just like you.”

  I laugh clumsily. “Well, I’m her momma.”

  My eyes fall on River again. She looks up at me and her face glows with innocence. “Mah-mee.” Her toothy grin makes my heart want to burst out of my chest.

  I'm struck hard by how much she looks like Archie. The dark glossy hair. The olive hue of her skin. The way her top lip curls just so when she grins.

  She's all Archie.

  It would be obvious to anyone who looked close enough.

  But no one's going to look, no one's going to notice. Because as far as everyone's concerned, my asshole ex-fiance is River's deadbeat dad. And Archie? He's a man I just met at a barbecue last weekend.

  My heart races. No one's going to notice, rig
ht?

  Thankfully, Clara changes the topic. “Did you get the tea set I sent her? The mailman brought it back. I wasn’t sure if you’d moved, or…”

  “We didn’t move…I-I sent it back.” I try to say it pleasantly, without cringing at my own words. I must seem like the world’s biggest bitch.

  “Oh…”

  This is so, so awkward.

  I break eye contact and allow my gaze to sweep over the park. Ramona’s eyes are still on her stupid phone. I do a quick headcount.

  Gaston and Hannah are standing at the top of the slide set, stomping their feet and babbling at each other. Lennox and Maizy are sitting in the sandbox, stabbing at the sand with their little shovels. Melody sits in the swing, jerking her body vigorously to get the thing to move. Sebastian is running around, kicking his soccer ball and screeching a Maroon 5 song at the top of his lungs. They all wear bright yellow safety vests with Little Giggles Childcare Center printed across the front.

  Clara’s overly-sweet voice rings out again. “So when am I going to get a girls’ day with this princess, huh? We need some grandma and grandbaby bonding time.” Her eyes plead. So much desperation on her face.

  My stomach knots up with guilt.

  I drag my slick palm down the front of my faded jeans and beg my pulse to slow down. “Clara, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  The smile drops from her face and low-simmering anger replaces it.

  “Sophia, I’ve told you—I’m sorry about what my son did. But at the same time, that doesn’t give you the right to keep my grandchild from me!”

  Shit—she’s got it all wrong. River isn’t her grandchild to begin with.

  I've kept this secret for nearly two years and it hasn't hurt anyone up until now. Josh hasn’t been back to Copper Heights since the wedding and I never expected to see River's real father again. but Archie is here now and Clara, she’s suddenly interested in being a grandmother.