Ready For Him: A Single Dad Next Door Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Ready for Him

  Alyson Hale

  Contents

  Ready for Him

  Note to readers

  Ready for Him

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue!

  About the Author

  Also by Alyson Hale

  Note from the Author

  ***PREVIEW***

  ALYSON HALE

  PETITION DENIED

  PETITION DENIED

  Untitled

  ALYSON HALE

  ROCK HER HARD

  Kyri

  Jace

  Kyri

  Jace

  Kyri

  Jace

  Kyri

  Jace

  Kyri

  Jace

  Kyri

  Jace

  ALYSON HALE

  READY FOR HIM

  Copyright © 2017 Alyson Hale.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: June 2017

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead— is entirely coincidental.

  Note to readers

  This book is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.

  Ready for Him

  Grant Sherwood.

  Once upon a time, that name meant a lot to me. He was my first ever crush. The teenager I blushed and giggled in front of when I was in kindergarten, even though he was ten years my senior. Back then, he played with me in front of high school girls to get their attention. Now he looks totally different. He isn’t the teenage string bean he once was.

  This man has an eight pack.

  Startling black eyes.

  A deep V leading down into his swim trunks.

  And he wants to go swimming in the deep end with me.

  He offered to help me clean my dad’s in ground pool in exchange for a free pass to use it any time he wants.

  Will he remember who I am? And if he does, will he ever see me as more than the cute little girl with pigtails who lived next door?

  NOTE: This short, steamy summer romance is sure to melt your heart...and your popsicle. It is a standalone, no cheating, no cliffhanger novella. Please enjoy in a cool environment so you don't get overheated! *wink*

  Chapter One

  I wipe my brow, exhausted, and set the pool net down to take a breath. For the past four hours, I’ve been baking in the summer heat, doing yard work for my dad. First, I mowed the lawn, then I weeded the garden and swept the patio. Now I’m doing my best to clean out the pool, but it’s a mess, and I’m finding myself wishing I had Mary Poppins powers. It would be so nice just to snap your fingers and have everything done for you.

  When my dad had a heart attack two weeks ago, I immediately moved back across town to take care of him. My mom passed before we moved here and he’s all I have left. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being here all alone. One of the reasons I stayed in town for college after graduating high school was because I knew his health wasn’t good, and I wanted to be here in case something happened. Getting that phone call in the middle of the night was my worst nightmare come to life. I’m not leaving until I’m one hundred percent certain he’s going to be all right. Luckily, the summer classes I’m taking are all online, so I can work on them whenever I want. I was living near campus because I wanted to participate in campus events, but nothing’s as important as keeping my daddy alive. Absolutely nothing.

  Through my bleary haze, I notice a tall, dark figure making his way up our driveway. I groan, thinking at first that it’s another door-to-door salesman. My dad seems to be a magnet for them.

  As the man draws closer, I recognize him and my heart stops for a second.

  Grant Sherwood?

  No way. It can’t be him. Grant Sherwood left this town over a decade ago and never looked back. I remember when it happened. I watched him leave with an ache in my chest.

  My mouth fills with saliva as I take in his six feet of burly manliness and his voluminous black hair. His eyes have darkened beyond the deep brown they were before. His jaw is still sharp, his lips are still full, but his body…

  Holy crap. The last ten years have been good to the slim teenager I knew once upon a time.

  Here he is, sauntering up my driveway toward the back gate with a crooked smirk warping his face, just like he used to, except now there’s a lot more of him. Has he come here to tease me? Marvel at how much I’ve grown? The last time he saw me, I was only eight years old and barely a blip on his radar. I was the little neighbor girl, the one he played catch with out in the yard when girls were coming to his house for a party and he wanted to look like the strong yet sensitive type.

  I had a stupid crush on that boy for years. It started when I was in teeball and he taught me how to make contact with the ball. My dad was never great at sports. He tried to coach me, but the truth is he was much more interested in building a house of cards or a birdhouse with me than smacking a ball into oblivion.

  I used to watch my handsome neighbor through the wooden slats of the fence that went between our two houses. His megawatt smile melted my insides. I listened to his deep laughter and loud antics with his friends, wishing I was a grown-up already and could party with the big kids.

  Grant, or “Sherwood” as he everyone called him, was a town hero, the quarterback who led our high school to their first ever state championship and made the winning touchdown. After he left, his parents constantly bragged to my dad and me about how well their son was doing, getting a full ride to college and making straight A’s, and I listened to it all. When he brought home a girl with a ring on her finger a year after graduating, I cried for three days straight. It was stupid—I’d had plenty of time to get over my childhood crush—but he was so perfect and gorgeous, and a small part of me always wanted him to come home single so there would still be a shrivel of hope. It’s a shame his own wife wasn’t as stuck on him as I was.

  I heard about his divorce a couple months ago and felt sadness for him. He and his wife seemed to be truly in love. I had let go of the fantasy of him after I heard they were expecting a child together. It seemed like things were hopeless for me, but now here he is again, and there’s no mistaking the twinkle in his eye. He remembers me. I try to stop my stomach from doing somersaults, but it’s always had a mind of its own when it comes to Grant Sherwood.

  When he opens the gate, my heart falls to pieces for a different reason. There’s a tiny, chubby hand interlaced with hi
s. The little boy has his daddy’s dark hair and dimples. His eyes are shining with excitement.

  “Pool, Da-ee! Pool!”

  Grant chuckles as his son drags him toward me. I brush my wild hair out of my face, embarrassed to be caught without a bra in a paint-stained t-shirt and athletic shorts. I didn’t expect to see anyone this afternoon. We’ve had visitors coming and going, but usually they call first.

  “So sorry to bother you,” Grant begins, holding on to his squirming son’s hand for dear life. His lopsided grin brings out a dimple in his cheek. “Cheyenne Jefferson? Is that really you?”

  My awkward giggle hangs in the air between us. “Yes, it’s really me. It’s been a while.”

  “Obviously, it has.” He shakes his head in amazement. I don’t miss the way his eyes make a quick scan of my body. It makes my cheeks heat. “My God, I can’t believe I stayed away from home this long. How old are you now?”

  “Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in a couple of weeks.”

  He lets out a long whistle. “Wow. You look so different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  My cheeks feel like they’re a thousand degrees. I divert the attention from myself.

  “And who’s this big guy?” I squat down to the little boy’s level, and he shrinks away from me behind his daddy’s leg.

  “This is Hudson.” Grant nudges his son forward. “Don’t be shy, buddy. This nice lady is our next-door neighbor. Her name is Cheyenne.”

  “Hi, Hudson.” I hold up my hand. “Can you gimme five?”

  The little boy tries to resist, but his little lips pop into a grin and he slaps his hand against mine, still huddled into his dad.

  I giggle and stand to my feet. “He’s adorable.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to see you.”

  “You too.”

  Grant’s attention has drifted to our pool. “Hey, so I was wondering, are you having to clean that pool all by yourself?”

  “Yeah. My dad had a heart attack, and I’m trying to make things easier on him.”

  His eyes make contact with mine again, and I try to suppress the tingles sparking through my limbs. Every time he looks at me, I feel my heart pumping faster and my stomach doing somersaults. Somehow becoming a dad has made him even hotter.

  “I heard. I’m so sorry, Cheyenne.”

  “Thanks. He’s much better now, but his doctor told him to take it easy. I’m helping out until he’s fully back on his feet.”

  Grant smiles, and I swear my heart melts into a puddle. “That’s good of you. I’m sure your dad appreciates it. I came over here to offer my help. As you probably remember, I had a little pool cleaning business back in high school. I’d be happy to clean it in exchange for being able to come over here with Hudson and swim.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t your parents have their own pool?”

  “Yes, but it’s in desperate need of repair. I have yet to find a repair guy I trust. My parents are in the process of moving out and giving me their house. They want something smaller without the upkeep.”

  Inwardly, I yell at my stomach to stop jumping. “So you’re moving here full time?”

  “Yeah. I want to be close to my parents for Hudson’s sake. He needs stability and family right now. The only problem is they still both work, and I don’t have a nanny.” He chuckles, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, I’m unloading on you. You’re just so easy to talk to.”

  Be still, my heart.

  I swallow down the nerves that are bunching up in my throat. It’s such a strange coincidence, the two of us being here at the same time again after so many years apart. It almost feels like fate.

  “You know, I could watch Hudson in exchange for you helping me around the house. I mean, that is until you’ve found a permanent nanny.”

  Grant’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? You’d be saving my fucking life.” He looks down at Hudson, realizing he just said a cuss word in front of his son. “Shit.” Scrunching his face, he makes it even worse. “Dammit!”

  “Dammid!” Hudson echoes, and I try my best to stifle my laughter behind my fist.

  “See?” Grant’s wild, desperate eyes meet mine. “I need help.”

  “Come here, Hudson.” I reach out for his hand, giggling. “How about we let your daddy get to work before he shoves his whole dang foot in his mouth?”

  Hudson hesitates, shrinking back into his daddy’s leg again. He shakes his head.

  “Come on, buddy. I won’t hurt you.” Then I get an idea and grin. “Do you like chocolate chip cookies?”

  The way his face lights up makes my heart sing. This little boy is just painfully cute. “Coo-ies!” He immediately toddles into my arms. I pick him up and sling him onto my hip. I’ve had lots of practice babysitting through high school. It was how I earned enough to pay for my car straight out.

  “Wow, you’re a natural.” Grant’s gaze holds gratitude, but there’s also something else. He’s looking at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before, not even by guys in high school.

  Being out here with him is going to give me heatstroke. I need some space to breathe and cool down.

  “We’ll see you in a little bit.” I lift Hudson’s soft little hand and wave it at Grant, then I press a quick kiss to the toddler’s forehead.

  Chapter Two

  Fuck me. It’s like seeing her for the first time. The little neighbor girl I used to hang out with is gone. I don’t know who this stunning, confident, caring woman is in front of me, but it can’t be little Cheyenne Jefferson.

  Especially not those perky, round tits with the hardened nipples.

  When she picked up Hudson, she tightened her shirt around her waist. It’s revealing everything. I’m trying hard not to stare, especially not in front of my son, but I want to. If we were alone, I’m not sure what could stop me from taking her into the pool house, ripping that sinfully thin, stained shirt off, and touching everything underneath. Her supple, tan skin would feel so good under my rough fingers.

  She turns around to go inside the house, and my gaze suddenly fixates on her ass. Her shorts barely cover her. The inside of them is riding up, giving me just a hint of each of her sweet little ass cheeks.

  The heat combined with the intense arousal makes me sweat. I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. I remember the girl I treated as a little sister. She probably thinks I only played with her to get the older girls’ attention, which was true at first, but the more I hung out with the little girl next door, the more I grew to love playing with her. I have two brothers, but no sisters. She was like a princess to me. I would have killed anyone who dared to hurt her.

  Now that brotherly affection is gone, nonexistent. I’m feeling something else entirely, and it’s absolutely fucking wrong.

  Brushing my hair back from my forehead, I give my arms a little shake and get ready to clean the pool. I haven’t done this since I was eighteen. Don Jefferson used to be my best customer. I’d clean their pool almost every week, and he always added a large tip onto my usual twenty bucks. Being here is like being transported back in time, except now Cheyenne is all grown up, and I have a child of my own and a cheating bitch of an ex-wife to deal with. If Cheyenne had been my age in high school, I wonder what would have happened?

  I suddenly have a visual of her walking out of her house in a G-string bikini to watch me clean the pool. She’d tease me from a lounge chair, flaunting her tits in the tiny piece of fabric, and then we’d go in the pool house to make out...

  Fuck. Now I have an erection the size of Mount Everest.

  I adjust myself discreetly in case Hudson talked her into watching me from the window. Then I pick up the net and force myself to focus on the task at hand. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. My hormones are raging as if I’m a horny teenager again. It must be the fact that I’m finally single for the first time in eight years and can think about whomever I want. Hopefully this temporary insanity will pass. I can only imagine what Don would do if he knew the way I was t
hinking about his daughter. He’d probably kick me off his property and never let me over here again.

  Scooping bugs out of a grimy tub of water is not the most entertaining or pleasant job on the planet, so I hook up my earbuds to my phone and let my problems drift away to the sound of Van Halen. It doesn’t take me long at all to fall back into my old pattern of cleaning a pool. I pulled some “big” bucks doing this as a high schooler, or at least I thought they were big back then. Now that I’m the CEO of my own startup company, working from home and pulling the salary of one of the big wigs downtown, I can’t even imagine going back to catching dead insects for a living. Majoring in business with a concentration in entrepreneurship was the best thing I ever did. I designed an iPhone app while I was in college specifically for college students to order food and have it delivered to their dorm rooms. It was a small convenience, but it turned out a lot of people needed it and were willing to pay for it. After that, I started designing other mobile apps for niche demographics, and my business boomed. Sherwood Enterprises now designs apps for all sorts of things, from selling used brand-name clothes to checking the weather for the day. Money is not an object for me anymore. So much has flooded in on me in the past few years that I don’t even know what to do with it.