Mountain Man Daddy Read online

  Mountain Man

  DADDY

  Chloe Maddox

  Angela Blake

  Table of Contents

  Mountain Man Daddy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

  Please ensure this book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by underage readers.

   Copyright 2018 by Chloe Maddox - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Mountain Man Daddy

  Chapter 1

  I leaned against the counter and sighed as I shoved my hands in my pockets.

  Today was shaping up to be one of those days.

  Not only had my alarm failed to go off this morning, but traffic was hell getting here, and my boss seemed to be in a pissy mood. He was snapping at anyone and everyone who got in his way, and unfortunately for me, I just kept crossing paths with him.

  First, when I rushed in and nearly collided making us both tumble backwards. My boss, Mr. Rothman, a short man with balding spots on his head, and a protruding belly. With his dark moustache, he looked like one of those characters in the old movies.

  Except today he wasn’t the kindly old grandpa.

  He was as mean as a pitbull if his mood was anything to go by, and I wondered why he was so sour.

  After Mr.Rothman righted me, he gave me a stern look and began to preach about the importance of getting to work on time, and how customers would perceive us.

  I highly doubted that customers cared when we got here.

  I worked at a pub for heaven’s sake.

  I wasn’t delusional as to what purpose I served.

  Unlike most people here though, I enjoyed my job immensely. It allowed me to have a flexible shift, so I could go to night school and get a degree in social work.

  Getting a job at a pub wasn’t my original plan, but it happened to work out that way, and Mr. Rothman was a good boss. I wasn’t going to be rich, nor was I going to get anywhere if I stayed here, but that was okay.

  As long as I had the time to work on my degree then I didn’t particularly care.

  The only downside to this job was the customers.

  Some of them could be really friendly, but others were decidedly less so.

  I tried to avoid patrons who were known for being disruptive and lewd, but it wasn’t always easy. If they happened to be there while I had my shift, I had no choice but to serve them, but usually Ruth took over for me.

  Ruth was my best friend at Dougal’s pub.

  I have no idea how I would’ve survived without her and it was a good thing I didn’t have to find out. She’d been here for a lot longer than me, and part of it was because of life choices that forced her into this profession, but I think a part of it was also because she was comfortable.

  It was hard to picture life outside one’s comfort zone, and Ruth was no exception, but she was always ready and willing to cover my shift if I needed it.

  And that tended to happen when I had exams, or I had a revision session.

  Ruth never complained though.

  I loved her for it.

  She was like the older sister I never had.

  I cursed loudly when I picked up one of the trays of food, not noticing that it was piping hot. I ended up dumping it all over the front of my shirt, and I stared in dismay as I realized I didn’t have a change of clothes.

  “Are you okay?” Ruth asked, sympathetically. “I have a spare shirt in the back. Why don’t you go and find it?”

  “Ruth, you are a real lifesaver,” I said, gratefully. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Ruth snorted, her brown eyes sparkling in merriment. “Trust me, honey, you’d be just fine. You’re a survivor. Just promise me you won’t be stuck here forever. Dougal’s may be home for me, but it’s not your home. You’re meant for greater things.”

  “Do you really think so?” I asked, trying not to let the hope tinge my voice. I wasn’t some naïve and idealistic schoolgirl who had no notion of how the real world worked.

  The system wasn’t perfect, and most times it ended up failing the people who needed it the most, but I had hope that I could be one of those people who helped.

  That’s all this world needed.

  More people who were willing to keep trying no matter what.

  I hoped I could be one of those people.

  “Honey, I know so, now go get yourself cleaned up before Mr. Rothman launches into another one of his lectures. Lord knows I love the man, but the mood he’s in today.” Ruth shook her head. “I doubt you want to cross him.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. He’s already looking at me like I’m fresh meat because of the fact that I came in late.”

  “Don’t worry, darlin’, it’ll pass. You’ve only been here for a few months, but Mr. Rothman snaps out of it fairly quickly,” Ruth assured me as she patted my hand then steered me towards the back.

  I gave her a grateful smile as I hurried to the back and rummaged around till I found the t-shirt Ruth was talking about. Unfortunately for me, Ruth was two cup sizes smaller than I was, so her shirt was a t-fit, and it made my breasts more prominent which I hated.

  I wasn’t comfortable, but I had no other choice. It was either put up with a tight shirt, or keep my dirty one on. I knew I wasn’t actually going to consider a second option, so I just sighed and slipped the clean shirt on.

  On Ruth, it probably looked professional. On me, it showed cleavage. I frowned at myself in the mirror before I stretched out the material, and realized there was nothing I could do.

  At 22, I, Sandra Stevens had not ended up where I expected at all.

  With a deadbeat dad who walked out on us, and a mother who did her best, I knew I couldn’t ask her to provide money for college when she was barely making ends meet. So, I worked the odd job here and there to save up. I also studied my ass off at school to get a scholarship, and I did.

  Everything changed when the accident happened.

  I had to cash in all of my life’s savings to make sure my mom got better, and I happily and selflessly did it. She was back to normal now, and working at a pottery shop close by. Staying behind to take care of my mom also meant that I had to give up my scholarship.

  As much as I loved my mother, and didn’t resent the sacrifice I had to make, I also knew that it put me back at square one, and that college was no longer an option since I couldn’t save up like I did when I was a kid, and I also couldn’t get my scholarship back.

  Oh, well.

  At least I was able to apply for night classes, and soon I’d have the degree to be able to make something out of my life instead of sticking around here. I gave myself a quick cursory glance to make sure everything was in place before I threw my blonde hair over my shoulder and walked out, my hazel eyes scanning the place.

  They landed on Ruth who was chatting with the chef easily, her brown hair plaited to the side. I never asked Ruth how old she was, but I put her somewhere in her late 30’s though she spoke with the wisdom of someone beyond her years. Her dark colored skin glinted under the fluorescent lights giving her a warm ethereal glow. />
  It made me wonder what trials she had to face, but it wasn’t my place to ask.

  I knew that she had a kid, a son who was going to community college, studying to be an architect. He was a well-mannered boy, and it was clear to anyone who met him that he adored his mom.

  If I had to guess, I’d say that Ruth got pregnant after High school, and her parents wouldn’t support her, so she had to find her own way. It made me admire her all the more for being able to hold her head high and successfully raise a boy in spite all of the odds telling her that she couldn’t.

  Some people made fun of her because of her quirky accent. Ruth was from Louisiana, and I personally loved the way she spoke. The way she curled her S’s and O’s. She said darling and honey quite often too which I always teased her about, but she’d give me a stern look, and I’d immediately stop.

  Over time, her accent became less prominent, or so she claimed, but I still liked to poke fun at her considering I was born and bred in Georgia.

  I had no idea how she did it, it was one of those stories that inspired me to keep going. I didn’t have a baby to raise after all. All I had was a screw up father who skipped town years ago, and that wasn’t going to be enough to stop me.

  I was determined not to let it.

  I swore I wouldn’t let it affect me, and I wouldn’t turn into one of those people, but there were times when I wondered how different my life would’ve been if he hadn’t walked out on us.

  I had vague memories of my childhood, of how in love my parents used to be. How my father would twirl my mom around the kitchen, and how she would laugh and call him a silly goose as she slapped his hand away when she was making his favorite food.

  These were all things I remembered clearly, and it just made me sad.

  How could two people who were so in love not end up together?

  It made no sense.

  They loved each other and fought to be together, and when they had me, they started a family, but something, some deep darkness eventually drove them apart, and it scared the hell out of me.

  How could people just wake up one day, roll over and decide to walk out on the person they love? When was it ever okay to give up and decide that the person you loved was no longer worth your time? But more importantly, how was it that they made themselves walk away after everything they’d been through together?

  These deeply rooted fears made me realize that I was always going to be afraid of getting into a serious relationship. No matter how hard I tried to move past it, or forget that it ever happened, my father’s face loomed in the background, his lips curled into a frown.

  Still, I supposed I turned out alright considering I was a child of divorce. Aside from a fear commitment which wasn’t something that was inherently because of divorced parents, I had no other issues.

  I was in good health, and I was able to maintain a steady job, and a good relationship with my mother who had long since moved on from my dad. She’d dated a few people here and there, but nothing serious until now.

  Until John.

  He seemed nice enough, but if my parents divorce affected me then what kind of scars did it leave on my mother’s heart?

  “Honey, you are rocking that shirt,” Ruth complimented as she held out her hand. I placed my small hand in hers, and she twirled me around after making sure no one was looking and gave me a once over.

  “You should be a model,” Ruth said, for the million time since she’d known me. For some strange reason, she had it in her head that I could pull it off, but we both know it wasn’t feasible.

  I snorted. “Be serious, Ru, I’m not model material.”

  “You may not be tall, but you have a nice petite figure that some men love, and you’ve got those doe-like eyes. I’m telling you it’s a waste,” Ruth tutted as she placed her hands on her hips.

  “Tell you what, Ru? If I get discovered, you and Joe will be the first people to ride with me in my fancy limo.”

  Ruth threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t you go making those promises, now, otherwise I might have to start planning what I’ll wear.”

  I dismissed her protests. “Planning what you’ll wear? Of course not. I’ll send you and Joe something nice. A nice dark tux for him, and a saucy little number for you.”

  Ruth chuckled, heartily as she wiped away a stray tear. “Oh, dear. That’s a nice thought, isn’t it? How’s your momma doing, Sandy?”

  “She’s fine, Ru. Enjoying her work as always.”

  “And is that fella still enjoying her company?” she asked, her brown eyes shrewd and understanding.

  “For now.”

  “You’re too young to be cynical, honey, and even if you weren’t. Don’t let those words beat you down. You’ve gotta dream big, and dare to fail,” she advised, kindly.

  We both turned when the pub door opened, and a man walked in. He was one of our regular customers. Mr. Garcia was a short man with thinning dark hair, rings on each of his fingers, and a moustache that Ruth and I liked to call the ‘porn stash’.

  It really wasn’t doing him any favors, and in fact made him look like a pervert.

  However, I will say this about him. In spite of the myriad of stereotypes that flashed through my brain when I first met him including but not limited to Mexican drug lord, and Italian mobster, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t any of those things.

  Aside from the way he twirled his moustache like a villain in one of those old black and white movies, there was nothing even remotely sinister about Mr. Garcia.

  He enjoyed a good hearty drink, and when he did he was loud and boisterous, but he was one of our better customers. He always tipped generously, and he never made any inappropriate passes on any of the waitresses.

  When I first met him, Ruth explained that he was from a huge Italian American family that owned a chain of pizza and pasta stores. It was pretty popular around Georgia, and I was one of their biggest fans.

  Garcia’s was the best of the best, and it was no surprise considering they knew their stuff.

  “Did you see the new episode of ‘This is Us’ last night?” Ruth asked as she patted her pockets looking for her pen and notepad.

  I leaned across the counter and grabbed both and handed them to her. “I did, yeah, but I’m taping them because I’ve been busy with college. I’m kind of dreading the big reveal.”

  Ruth grimaced. “Yes, me too. Jack Pearson’s death is not something I want to watch.”

  “Me neither,” I agreed. “So, are you taking Mr. Garcia today, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it, you have to go tend to the gentleman in the corner over there.” She inclined her head slightly to show who she was talking about. I produced my own pen and notepad and made my way to my corner.

  My steps faltered when I came within close proximity of the man, and noticed how attractive he was. I may have been a commitment phobe, but I still had eyes, and a libido which was going into hyperdrive right now.

  Had it really been that long since I’d been with a man?

  I did the mental math and realized it had. I’d been so focused on attaining my goals that I’d forgotten to attend to one of my basic human needs. Not that it mattered. I could easily take care of that on my own.

  The man in question had his head slightly inclined, so that I couldn’t see his profile, but I could see that his hair curled at the nape of his neck. He had dark brown hair, the color of chocolate, and it was artfully tousled to the side. I could see the stubble growing on his chin which gave him a bit of a goatee. Long expert hands held onto the menu as he continued talking on the phone.

  He was wearing a dark navy-blue suit with his tie hanging off the edge of his neck, and the first few buttons slightly open. A rolex creeped out from underneath his pressed white shirt. This man’s entire appearance screamed money, and the way he was drumming his fingers against the menu made me think that he wasn’t enjoying the conversation he was having.

  I stopped in front of his b
ooth and patiently waited for him to finish as I tried not to be obvious about the staring. Once he was done, he swiftly put the phone away and flashed me a smile.

  “Hi, what can I get you?”

  “Do you guys serve radlers here?” he asked as his eyes quickly scanned the menu.

  “We don’t, but I can make it for you,” I offered as I jotted down his order.

  “Can I also get some hot wings?” he asked before he dragged his eyes away from the menu. Once they landed on me, he smirked and leaned back against the booth.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible as I sensed the shift in his attitude. I hadn’t been working here long, but it didn’t take a genius to notice when a customer was checking you out.

  To his credit, Fancy suit was being subtle about it.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you know that man over there?” He shifted his eyes to Mr. Garcia then back to mine.

  “Mr. Garcia? Yeah, he’s a regular here.”

  “Good because I was told he’d be here,” he responded, and his baby blue eyes turned as hard as steel in that instant. Gone was the playfulness, and I wondered why.

  I shifted uneasily. “Will that be all, Sir?”

  Fancy suit gave me a long look before he nodded. “For now.”

  I gathered the menu in my arms and tried not to react when I noticed his eyes glued to my backside. I drew the apron on closer, and marched forward. Once I reached the counter without any incident, I placed the order and sighed.

  Thank God he was the type of customer who just looked.

  I didn’t want to cause a commotion, and with the way he was dressed, he was sure to cause us problems. Mr. Rothman protected his staff, but if some hot shot lawyer slammed us with a lawsuit, it would be bad for business. I shook that thought away considering I didn’t even know if he was a lawyer, it was just a guess. Ruth returned from Mr. Garcia’s booth with a smile on her face as she placed her order.

  Her smile slid away when she caught the look on my face. “Why do you look like you’re about to murder someone?”