2. Brandon
CHAPTER 2
Temptation takes the form of a red-haired woman, with mesmerizing hazel eyes and a stunning figure. She presses her lips against mine, letting out a soft moan. Her kiss is intoxicating, the hint of alcohol only adding to the desire coursing through me.
Every fiber of my being yearns to intensify the kiss, but I know that giving in will only lead to regret. As much as it pains me, I cannot take advantage of a woman who is drunk and vulnerable.
I pull away from her kiss, holding her up with one hand while my other arm is still wrapped around her waist. She smiles at me, then she collapses on my shoulder, completely knocked out.
Shit, I shouldn’t have suggested the negroni.
I slowly rise to my feet and spin us around before lowering her to my stool and hailing the waiter. He glances suspiciously between me and Anya as he tells me how much my bill is. I can tell what kind of thoughts are going through his head right now. He’s not entirely wrong to think that way; I am aware of some losers who would exploit her vulnerability in a situation such as this.
Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I put a few bucks on the bar and show off my Navy SEAL ID “Don’t worry, I’m only taking her home.”
He sighs and I can see the relief in his eyes as he nods.
When he walks away, I tap Anya’s cheeks and try to wake her up, but she’s completely wasted and only mutters some gibberish before she passes out again. I bite back a chuckle. She’s cute.
But I have a problem—I don’t know where she lives. How the hell am I supposed to take her home? I take out my phone and text one of my friends.
Hawk needs help over here!
Nathan glances at me from where he’s seated and a mischievous glint catches his eyes. He gets to his feet and starts to walk in my direction. I expect a lot of teasing from him.
“What do we have here?” he drawls, planting his hands at his waist. “A Navy SEAL with a drunk woman. Just how much did she drink?”
“Two negronis and a martini,” I reach for Anya's purse, hoping to find an ID or something that will lead me to her home address.
"She passed out after just two negronis?" he questions, his head shaking in disbelief.
“Turns out she’s a lightweight. I suppose she had a few drinks on her own before I offered her two.” There is no ID when I rummage her purse, but I find her phone and take it out. “I need to get her home safely.” Some may call me old fashioned, but she is someone’s daughter, I have a daughter too. Anya is undeniably beautiful, and I cannot let her come to any harm.
Nathan slides his fingers in his hair. “Then take her home. How am I supposed to help you?”
“I need help carrying her to the car,” I say, looking at him as if he’s an idiot. He probably is, though, because he wouldn’t be asking otherwise.
His chuckle rises above the music blaring from the speakers. “Two men carrying a drunk, passed out woman out of a bar? What do you think people will make of it?”
Well, now I’m the idiot because I didn’t think of that. My gaze drifts to Anya, her head gently resting on the worn wooden bar. Her vibrant red hair cascades over her face in soft spirals, like a fiery waterfall. Even in slumber, she maintains an air of elegance and grace. I am captivated by the length and thickness of her lashes, framing her closed eyelids. She is more than beautiful – she is stunning, breathtaking even. I have never encountered a woman as striking as her. She is in denim shorts that hug her curves and a pink crop top that showed off her toned stomach. Despite the casual outfit, she outshone every other woman in the crowded bar.
“What do you expect me to do?” I ask, frustration bubbling in my chest.
“Carry her bridal style. It’s romantic and less suspicious.” He clasps my shoulder. “Good luck, man. And sorry that you’re not getting laid tonight.”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckles sardonically, then he strides off. I stare at Anya before flashing her phone in her face when she barely opens her eyes for three seconds and dialing the last name on her call list, Gigi.
I dial the number twice, but no one picks up. Frustrated, I give up after the third try and consider checking her GPS map to see if she has labeled her address. Luckily, she has. A sigh of relief escapes me as I carry her out of the bar and into my truck parked nearby. I drive her back to her home with a sense of relief.
Thankfully, her apartment isn’t that far from the bar. It takes an approximately twenty-minute drive before I pull the car to the curb outside her building and carry her in.
“Are we home?” she asks the second we’re inside.
“We are.” I lay her down on the longest beige couch in her living room and help her with her shoes. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Did I tell you about the concert tomorrow night? It was supposed to be our second-year anniversary and I got two tickets.” She sniffles, breaking into a sob. “I can’t miss the concert for the world because it’s my favorite band, but I don’t want to go alone.”
I don’t know what to do with a crying woman, so I instinctively pat her head. “I’m sorry.” I have no idea if that’s the right thing to say, but that’s all I can think of. “Do you need anything?”
She smiles, her eyes flickering. “I need you to hold me.”
Right, not happening. I’m already struggling to keep myself in check as it is. “Go back to sleep Anya,” I say, bopping her nose.
She nods and wipes off her tears with the back of her hand, then she closes her eyes. She’s snoring moments after.
I watch her for a second. I feel a tang of a hard-to-pinpoint emotion tighten in my chest, along with rage that any man would dare to hurt her like this. It’s unusual, but I want to make her feel better.
I finally get to my feet and peer around her tiny apartment. Anya is a girly girl, everything in her apartment being either a shade of pink or white. There are two concert tickets on the coffee table. I pick them up and stare at them. They’re tickets for a classical music concert. I prefer country music. Still, I would go with her if she asked me to, but she probably won’t even remember me by the time she wakes up tomorrow morning. And I won’t be in the city by then.
Sighing, I drop the tickets on the coffee table and peer at her one last time before I stride to my truck outside. It’s going to be a struggle to keep thoughts of her off my mind over the next couple of days, and I should since we’ll probably never meet again.
And there’s the fact that she won’t even like me when she finds out I’m a single dad.
“Daddy is a fairy princess!” my six-year-old daughter, Alessa, says with a giggle. She has me wearing a crown and holding a plastic magic wand. Thank goodness none of her skirts fit me, or I’d be wearing one by now too.
I’m back to Meadowvale, where I live with my parents when I’m not in the city or deployed on a mission. Meadowvale is a small town in the New York State countryside. It’s a peaceful town and a fun place to be, the only disadvantage being that people here are adverse to minding their own business.
Just this morning, I heard someone say something about me not being married at just fucking twenty-eight. Working as a Navy SEAL is hard enough. Sometimes I’m far away from home for months; most times, I don’t even know if I’ll make it back alive.
It’s terrible enough that I’m not always around to give my daughter all the love she needs, but also committing to a woman when I’ll be away from home most of the time just seems awful to me.
I’m content with dating here and there, and having one-night stands. Whatever little time I have, I prefer to spend it with Alessa and spare a little to go for drinks with my friends in the city, which is only a two-hour drive from here.
“What type of princess is Daddy?” I ask, trying not to move my head fast enough for the crown to drop. She’ll cry if that happens.
She thinks. “Princess Jasmine.”
I fake a frown and clutch my chest. “Princess Jasmine is a girl, Daddy is not.”
“You both have black hair.” She giggles and runs off to her play kitchen. When she returns, she’s holding a tiny kettle. “Make three wishes, Daddy.”
I glare at the kettle. “Will my wishes come true?”
She nods, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement.
My ex-girlfriend had Alessa six years ago, having found out she was pregnant after we’d only dated for two months. There was rumor that she was still seeing her ex secretly. I was quite young then, and becoming a father was the last thing on my mind, but I knew from the second I heard Alessa’s heartbeat that I wanted her to be born. And I’ve never regretted it. Alessa is the prettiest six year-old in the world, the sweetest child you could find, and she loves me unconditionally.
After she was born, her mother abandoned her only four weeks postpartum, and she never came back. I am forever grateful for their unwavering support. As a single dad juggling parenthood and a career as a Navy SEAL, their presence made all the difference in my journey.
“The genie will hear you.” Alessa leans in and whispers. “He’ll make your wishes come true.”
I don’t know how that works, but I close my eyes and pretend to make a wish. When I’m finished, Alessa makes hers.
“I want my daddy to be happy, I want grandma and grandpa to live forever.” She pauses. “I want to have a mommy too.”
My stomach flips and a wave of sadness crashes into me all at once.
I want to have a mommy too.
She’s never said that before, but I always knew she’d wondered why she only has a grandma and not a mother. She’ll never have a mother, not unless her mother returns, but I can’t tell her that.
“Alessa.”
Alessa tears her eyes open at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. “Yes, grandma?” She turns to where my mother is standing by the door. “I was playing with Daddy.”
“Go up and wash your hands, I’ll prepare a snack for you,” my mother says.
“Can I have ice cream too?”
My mother smiles. “You can have anything you want, my love.”
My daughter chuckles and gingerly walks toward the kitchen to wash her hands, repeating, “Grandma will let me have ice cream,” over and over again until she’s completely out of sight.
“She won’t be a child forever,” my mother says, sitting on the couch across from me. “She needs a mother in her life, Brandon.”
Fury boils and burns in my gut, but not at my own mother. No, it's directed towards Alessa's mother, who abandoned her newborn baby so callously. The only thing she left behind was a crumpled note, hastily written with shaky handwriting, stating that she didn't want to be a mother because she wasn't ready. I didn't want to be a father either. I wasn't prepared for this responsibility, but when the time came, I stepped up and took on the role without hesitation. She could have done the same, but instead chose to walk away from her own flesh and blood. My anger simmers as I think of the pain and confusion this must have caused Alessa throughout her life.
“We’ve talked about this already, Mom.”
“I know, I just feel bad for Alessa.” She holds my gaze. “I know this is about the way her mother left, but not everyone is like her. You’ll find a woman who’ll love you and love Alessa too.”
She doesn’t understand. No one ever will. Getting married means I have to be honest and being honest means I have to risk the truth about Alessa.
I can’t do that to her. That truth is a secret I’ll carry to my grave if I have to. “Let’s not talk about this again.”
My mom sighs, but thankfully, she doesn’t push it. “That reminds me, Mr. White asked if you could give him a ride to the city this afternoon. He says he’ll pay for it, and I’ll pack some food for your brother too.”
I grunt. My mom has basically turned me into her personal errand boy. My younger brother is on a contract job in Brooklyn and she doesn’t miss an opportunity to send him homemade meals whenever she can.
“Fine.” Running errands for her whenever I can is the best I can do to thank her for raising Alessa. “Tell Mr. White he can keep his money too.”
She smiles. “Thank you son.”
“Grandma! I’m taking the ice cream out of the fridge,” Alessa yells from the kitchen.
We both laugh. She’s such a troublesome rabbit.
“I’m coming!” my mom yells back, pushing up to her feet. “I better go and see what Alessa is up to.”
After she left, I recline in my chair and reflect. My first thought is of Alessa and how I can never fill the void of a mother in her life. Then, my mind wanders to Anya. It's already morning, and I wonder if she has woken up yet. She probably has a bad hangover and no one to take care of her.
Of course, I won't be the one to do so, but it amuses me to consider driving by just to check on her well-being. And who knows, maybe I'll even accompany her to the concert as her plus-one.