Her Dreamy Daddies (Daddies of Falcon Creek #5)

Chapter 1

One

Eloise

Quit overdoing it. Quit handling shit alone.

The voice of my best friend Karsyn, whom I called Kars, echoed through my head like an ominous warning.

Overworked, overstressed, underfucked. That’s what she would have said was wrong with me.

Although, considering the smoke rolling out from under my car’s hood, it looked like I was pretty fucked. Shame it wasn’t in a way I enjoyed.

“Send me some freaking help,” I muttered as if the universe would drop a handsome mechanic at my feet.

Lifting the hood of my car, I surveyed the engine.

Not that it would do any good. I didn’t know much about practical things since I’d spent my entire adult life in the business world.

Things like car maintenance and lawncare were foreign to me.

I could manage a spreadsheet and more recently, any cocktail recipe.

Before I left for Europe, I’d been a bartender.

Returning to Falcon Creek, I’d secured both the business manager position at The Kicking Donkey as well as having fun as a backup bartender.

But office skills and mixology wouldn’t fix my car.

“Need help, Eli?” I looked up from the engine as a smooth, honeyed voice spoke from behind my shoulder, but I didn’t turn around.

“Thank you! You’re the answer to my prayers!”

I spoke before I recognized the voice that was attached to the last person I wanted to see.

Reed Hampton. Suave. Handsome. Leaning against my bumper like some tall drink of water.

We were adjacent by association and not really friends.

He was best friends with August, one of Karsyn’s boyfriends.

She had recently gotten into a throuple.

That connection had us hanging out more often.

So often that he might even be growing on me. Not that I’d tell him that.

“The answer to your prayers, huh?” He stroked the scruff on his chin.

“Something like that. Anyway, don’t worry about it.” I pulled my honey-blonde hair into a high ponytail. The weather was warm tonight, but I was suddenly sweltering. It could be Reed’s presence or something else entirely.

“I tinker with cars sometimes. May I look at it?”

“I’ll just call for a tow. It’s getting late. Who knows how long it will take?” I pushed up the sleeves of my cardigan, preparing to dive back under.

“Let me at least look at it, lemondrop. Maybe I’ll see the problem.”

He’d bestowed the sweet-yet-sour nickname on me after I’d talked him into a shot with the same name a few weeks ago.

A fruity alcoholic twist on the classic candy.

Reed confessed that the drink reminded him of the candies his grandmother used to have in a large glass dish on her coffee table.

He fondly remembered having one whenever he would go to her house growing up.

Since then, he ordered the shot whenever he came to the bar I managed.

Maybe he was getting used to the idea of me too.

“I’ll call a tow truck. No big deal,” I told him even though it was a bigger deal than I’d let on.

Our town didn’t have reliable public transportation, so I needed a vehicle.

I’d had the car for almost eight years, and nothing major had happened to it, but I hadn’t kept up with maintenance.

Just like I hadn’t been keeping up with other important things in my life.

“I won’t make it worse,” he said, chuckling. “At least, I’ll try not to.”

Reed rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, tucking them as he folded each one to his elbow.

His hair was tousled as if he’d been jabbing his fingers through it earlier.

From this distance I could see the light scruff on his chin as he clenched and relaxed his jaw.

He was staring at me. Was it my desperation that made my lips part slightly as I stared back? He looked yummy enough to lick.

“There isn’t a foreign car repair shop nearby. I’ll have to go all the way to Cheyenne.”

“Then it can’t hurt for me to check one thing.”

“I’ll figure it out, Reed. Move so I can just–” I reached for something in the engine.

Reed grabbed for my hand as if trying to stop me but he caught my wrist, triggering me.

Reacting on pure instinct, I jerked my hand away from his grip, slamming my fingers into hot metal, the exact part that Reed wanted me to avoid.

“Yow!”

Forgetting where I was for a moment, my brain spiraling from the immediate trauma he’d inadvertently caused, I stumbled into him instead of away from him.

Reed, seemingly off-balance from trying to help me again, slammed his head into the hood.

As if this moment couldn’t get any worse– he fell and landed hard against the pavement.

“Fuck!” Reed rubbed his head.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?"

Reed winced. Slowly he got to his feet, as if mentally taking stock of his body. “I’ll be fine.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyelids and I forced them away.

Years ago someone had assaulted me, pinning my wrists to the ground while they did horrible things.

Whenever my wrist was grabbed, I’d become triggered.

I’d spent a long time dealing with the mental damage, but I wasn’t fully healed. “My... your... when you grabbed me–”

“Hey. Hey, breathe. Are you having a panic attack?”

"No, it’s, uh, worse. It’s similar, but I’m emotional. It’s from PTSD,” I said as if that would explain it all.

“Will it help if I hold you for a few minutes until you calm?”

Thinking about the potential repercussions of Reed holding me on the side of the road while I had a full-blown meltdown made me hesitate.

But having someone to ground me—to keep me from completely unraveling—would help, not harm.

At least that is what I decided to go with, since my heart was currently pounding against my chest as if it could break free and run a marathon.

I hadn’t even had a moment to access the damage I may have done to my hand. Priorities.

“Yes, please,” I whispered, my voice small and trembling.

Reed walked me to his car and opened the back door.

He helped me in, then climbed in after me.

The space was surprisingly roomy, cozy even, and the leather seats smelled like my favorite vintage purse—faded, expensive, familiar.

Something about it brought me back to the fun moments as a kid, playing dress-up with my grandma’s old clothes and purses.

The memory helped ease some of my overwhelming anxiety.

“I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around me carefully, easing me into his chest like I was breakable. Maybe at that moment I was. Vulnerability was not a cloak I wore well, but I needed him more than I cared to admit.

We were both hurt, though not badly, but for a moment, none of it mattered. He held still, calm and composed, while I sat there, holding back tears. His palm rubbed gently over the back of my head, each pass chasing away the crippling panic.

And then I smelled him. A mouthwatering combination of warm, heady notes: cardamom, sandalwood, rosewood, and amber.

All earthy and spicy, elegant but not showy.

It soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain.

As if zeroing in on each one was another step out of my spiral.

I’d spent enough time around men who wore luxury colognes just for the bragging factor, dousing themselves in scent like armor.

But Reed’s wasn’t like that. It was quiet.

Intentional. It clung to him like it belonged there, mixing with his pheromones until I almost drooled.

I didn't love that I noticed, but I did.

“How are you feeling now, lemondrop?” Reed asked quietly.

In the rapidly fading sunlight, it felt safe to be honest since he couldn’t see the fear undoubtedly still splashed across my face. “A bit off-balance, but much better.”

“May I see your hands? There are parts of the engine that can cause a lot of damage if you touch them.”

“I guess,” I said, reluctantly agreeing.

Reed turned the flashlight feature connected to his phone on while gently turning my hand up and down. “Ouch, sweetheart. You have a few blisters. It’s important that you get checked out by someone. I can bring you to urgent care.”

“That’s not necessary, but you slammed your head. You might have a concussion. Do you want me to call an ambulance for you?”

“No, I don’t need an ambulance. My best friends are paramedics. One of them should be off. Pick one. August or Kingston?”

I liked and respected August. A lot. Though I didn’t know King very well, we also had spent more time together lately.

If I was being honest with myself, I sort of had a crush.

Something else I wouldn’t share with Reed.

Share... with... Reed. Why did my brain get stuck on that?

I’d observed the two of them being a little more playful than I thought friends usually acted, but I didn’t think they had a thing for each other.

“King lives closer.” I shrugged. Shoot. In my brain’s rambling, I’d forgotten that the reason why he wanted to call one of them was to get us both looked at by a health professional. The thought of Kingston touching me intimately and caring for me brought heat to my face.

“Yeah, that’s true, Eli. Does this mean you’re not going to argue with me anymore tonight?”

“Not a chance,” I muttered.

Reed shook his head. “Let me see if my first-aid kit has some burn gel.” He took my non-injured hand and put his phone into it so I could hold it up for the light. Scouring through the kit, he found nothing but a few bandages and two packs of Tylenol.

“I can’t believe that your best friends the paramedics, allow you to have such a paltry kit. They’d have your neck if they saw the state of it.”

“Oh, believe me, lemondrop, I know. I guess I haven’t restocked in a while. Come back to my house and get checked over.”

“No, I’m fine but you shouldn’t drive with a potential head injury either.” I handed him his phone back and he turned off the light.