Chapter 7 #3
“I wanted to see you.” He said it like it was so simple, as easy as one-two-three. He wanted to see her and so here he was. Simple, uncomplicated, and yet Dosia knew he had to have done some work to track her down. He didn’t have her full name. Only her address. Maybe he knew her grandparents ?
As Dosia stared at him, wordless, Pumpkin walked over to the Classics bin. Most were second-hand, but all were in pristine condition. Dosia’s heart raced even faster when his large hand picked up a copy of Beowulf: Verse and Translation .
She shouldn’t care what he thought of her bookstore. She really shouldn’t. But his approval made her spine straighten and her cheeks flush. Despite that she’d given birth to a child with half his DNA, Dosia had only spent a handful of hours in this man’s presence. Less than a day when added up.
Yet he had some invisible hold over her that felt stronger than spider webbing.
Putting the book down, he wandered to the left, away from where Dosia sat behind the counter. They were alone in the store, yet she felt like the space between them was only getting smaller. Her legs twitched as if to go to him, but her ass remained firmly planted in her chair.
He stopped in front of the Romance section.
“Ah, the shirtless man books.” He picked one up with a nearly naked Highlander on the front cover.
Dosia recognized it immediately, even from her distance.
“Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal of reading romance.
” His smile was utterly wicked as he said, “Why read about doing such naughty things when you can actually be doing it?”
Dosia’s nipples tightened and wetness grew between her legs at the promise of such naughty things in his voice. She suddenly had a vision of him holding her up against the stacks while he thrust inside her…
Pumpkin’s smile widened and Dosia had to cover her cheeks or risk lighting the store on fire with her embarrassment.
“Um, some of us don’t have that option.”
Pumpkin put the book back and approached her. Putting his hands on the counter, he leaned in, and that heady scent of man, mint, and leather came wafting towards her. Dosia’s pussy literally pulsed as if trying to gain his attention.
“Except you’re no longer one of them.”
Dosia blinked, trying to remember what she’d said to him to figure out what he meant by that statement. Her brain simply wasn’t computing. “What…?”
“You said ‘us’.” There was a twitch of his lips that hinted he was having fun and was entirely aware of the effect he was having on her.
“Meaning that you’re included in your assertion that some people don’t have the option to do such naughty things with a partner and their only option is to read about them. ”
Dosia shook her head, because that was not what she had meant at all. There were a lot of people who read romance for all sorts of reasons, not just single women. She’d been stating one of the reasons why she read romance.
He kept speaking, his voice a low tenor.
Like liquid sex. “My point is that you never have to worry about that again. Read all the books you want, but consider them research, not fantasy.” His dark eyes loomed over her as if he was mentally undressing her.
“I will happily be your puppet, and together, we can do every naughty, depraved, wicked act you’ve ever dreamed of. ”
It was official. Dosia was going to Hell, because damn , that sounded like an amazing idea.
The question of “right now” was stopped from coming out of her mouth when the cowbell over the door rang again.
Both Dosia and Pumpkin turned at the sound, and for the second time in less than ten minutes, Dosia froze as Calliope and JJ walked into the store.
At first, Pumpkin didn’t think much of the mother and daughter who entered the bookstore.
He was more disappointed at the interruption than anything.
Not that his body was in any condition to actually follow through with his offer to let her reenact her darkest fantasies with him.
His dick, though, wasn’t caring, and Pumpkin was well aware that his lower brain had been in charge of him since the moment he’d entered Dosia’s store.
The little girl was fucking adorable. She had on purple and green leggings under a pair of shorts, a pair of sneakers, and a black shirt with orange, sparkling letters announcing her to be Daddy’s Little Pumpkin .
She had dark curls and olive skin, and her eyes…
They reminded him so much of his own mother’s.
Pumpkin recognized the woman holding the little girl’s hand. He’d seen her around, though he wasn’t positive of her name. Seriously, maybe he should bring up his name tag idea to the next Town Council meeting. And was that a fucking bearded dragon on her shoulder?
He was about to turn back to Dosia, just thinking the mother and daughter pair to be patrons of the store, when suddenly the little girl put on a burst of speed. “Mommy!”
She ran around the counter with such familiarity that Pumpkin knew this wasn’t some prank or joke, but routine. Her little school backpack was so loose on her that it bounced up and down on her bottom as she raced to her mother.
To Dosia.
Her mother was Dosia.
Pumpkin had been punched before. A lot. Both in and out of the ring. He’d known plenty of shock and pain throughout his thirty-four years. Even after his accident, he never thought he’d receive such a gut-punch as when he had found out that Cheryl was pregnant with his baby.
Until now.
His grip on the counter tightened as he fought to keep his balance. His cane hung uselessly from his wrist as he stared.
Dosia leapt down from the chair, which spun at her actions and showed him his own jacket hanging over the back of it. She’d worn his cut to work today. But Pumpkin felt no triumph at that knowledge as he watched Dosia crouch down to greet the little girl.
His brain was trying to do math as his lungs desperately tried to remember how to breathe. Her eyes … Those features, that fucking shirt… It was like being drunk and trying to do abstract algebra. His brain kept short circuiting.
But it was the expression on Dosia’s face when she looked at him that sealed the deal. It was a look of fear as she stared at him over her daughter’s shoulder. He expected it was a look a guilty criminal would wear when finally cornered by the police.
Betrayal washed through him, and he had no idea what look was on his face as he stared at his daughter.
His daughter .
Call it instinct, call it father’s intuition, call it fucking divine intervention, he didn’t care. But he knew as surely as he knew his own name that this little girl was his .
Dosia held her body to the side as the little girl gripped her neck. It was an angle one would use to shield their child from potential danger. As if he was a danger to his own child.
The other woman walked around the side of the counter as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She held her hand out to him. “You must be Pumpkin. I’m Calliope, Dosia’s aunt.”
Pumpkin’s gaze kept flying back to the little girl.
He wanted to know her name. Was she healthy?
Happy? His eyes flicked from the woman’s hand to his daughter, who was staring at him with his mother’s eyes, back to the woman’s smiling face, back to his daughter’s innocent smile, to the woman’s easygoing expression…
Finally, good manners broke through his shock and forced him to raise his hand to meet hers, even though she had had it lifted to him for an unusually long amount of time as his eyes moved back and forth like he was watching a tennis match.
His slow brain finally registered one fact. Did the woman say aunt ? There was no way. She looked even younger than Dosia. Maybe their family had some weird aging gene and they all looked younger than they were.
“How old is she?” He had no idea how he found his voice. It was rough and scratchy like he’d swallowed a handful of sand, but the question was out.
“Me?” Calliope asked, a light chuckle. “I’m twenty-five. Don’t worry,” she said, dropping Pumpkin’s hand. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. “We get this all the time. I was an ‘oopsie’ baby, so while I am two years younger, biologically, I am her aunt.”
Pumpkin shook his head, not caring about her parents getting it on late in life. “No, her.” He looked back at his daughter. “How old is she?”
“JJ,” Calliope helpfully supplied. “Juniper Jacqueline, but we call her ‘JJ’. I don’t know why, but I thought it was cute and everyone else just caught on.”
Pumpkin really needed Calliope to stop talking. Because Dosia should be the one talking. She should be the one telling him about their daughter.
JJ. Christ, what the fuck was going on here?
Had she known about SJ before last night?
How? JJ was clearly older, but he hadn’t known.
He’d named SJ after himself. Seth Junior.
He’d never even contemplated he had another child, a daughter, out there in the universe, living a life without him, and that her nickname was also her initials.
Realizing that he was talking about her, JJ’s head suddenly perked up and she held out her hand to him, fingers spread.
“I’m five! I love my birthday and want one every day, but Mommy says I have to wait until May to have it again.
I’m in kindergarten! My teacher is Mrs. Burke.
She’s really, really nice. And this is my mommy and this is my grrrrreat -aunt,” she said, emphasizing the word like Tony the Tiger.
“I have my Grandma Solstice and my Grandpa Marmot too. They’re actually my mom’s grandma and grandpa.
Mine died! But Grandma Solstice says she’s too young to be a great grandma, so she’s just my grandma.
I love Halloween. Don’t you?” She pulled back in Dosia’s grip enough to show Pumpkin her t-shirt again, and his stomach sank as those words took on new meaning.
“Aunt Calliope said she couldn’t find one that said I was ‘Great Aunt’s Little Pumpkin’ so she got me this one instead! ”
Then the little girl, JJ, cocked her head at him. “Who are you?” Like she hadn’t just spilled her entire life’s story to him.
Pumpkin just stared at her, this innocent little girl.
All he could think about was what he’d missed.
From her birth until five minutes ago, he’d missed it all.
Her first words, her first tooth, her first laugh, her first smile, her first walk, her first run…
Everything. No more. Not a single second.
Anger rolled through him, only adding to the betrayal he already felt. His eyes met Dosia’s, and fuck him, because her reaction was to take a step back and to hold JJ tighter in her arms.
Pumpkin’s fists clenched, making the old wood counter groan. “She’s mine.” There was no question in his voice. It was a statement, plain and simple.
Dosia’s face paled. But she shook her head. “No, she’s mine.”
When the wood started to crack under his grip, the snapping sound brought Pumpkin back to his senses. His daughter was picking up on her mother’s terror, and Pumpkin never wanted to be the cause of his daughter’s fear.
He stepped back, trying to calm himself but his lungs still felt like they were only taking in half the amount of oxygen his body needed to function.
“I want a paternity test,” he demanded harshly. “And I want my name on her birth certificate. Don’t you dare fight me on this, Dosia. There’s not a judge in the world who wouldn’t give me custody.”
Then he stormed from the bookstore before his rage really took over.