Single Dad Read online

  Poor child, she is so exhausted she falls asleep halfway through the book.

  Gently, I kiss her spotty cheek and holding my breath, I carefully slide out of her tent.

  I stand and look down at her. Something tugs at my heart. My child is asleep on my office floor, instead of in a bedroom in my apartment. That’s where she should be, permanently. And will be. As soon as I sort out my business. She deserves better than this, damn it.

  I have to get my mind back on work. Two weeks. Two weeks until the conference launch. The thought of it makes me feel sick. Though, that could be the stress. Or just plain ole seething rage. It consumes me every time I remember Weissman’s arrogant, taunting smile as he passed me by last night.

  I run my hands through my hair as the adrenaline in my blood spikes. I can’t let it take over again. I’ll end up collapsing and my business—not to mention the little girl in the next room—need me badly. He thinks he’s got me. Well, he hasn’t. I gear myself up for a long, long night. What I need is an energy drink. I tiptoe out of my office to get one of the cans Erica stocks the fridge with.

  My hand lingers on the doorknob as I turn back to look at the tent. I’m only going to be seconds. But what if she wakes up and finds herself in a strange place? She could go into panic mode and I wouldn’t hear her. All the walls are soundproof. With good reason. Before today, my ultimate priority in this place was confidentiality. A lot of good that did me. I leave the door open, grab a can, and go back into my office.

  All is quiet in the tent.

  I collapse into the chair behind my desk and realize I’m sitting on my suit jacket, but I can’t bring myself to care. My eyes itch with fatigue and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this drained. Not when I ran in that half-marathon at school, not when I was working overnight to put myself through college. Not even when Maddie was a newborn and she used to scream all night with colic and nothing worked, not gripe water, not anything, except being swaddled tightly in a blanket and bounced on my knees for hours. Every time I thought she’d finally fallen asleep and tried to put her down, the ear-piercing screaming would begin all over again.

  Of course, Regina always claimed she suffered from postpartum depression and needed her sleep, so it was all up to me. For nearly five months, I did the night shift. Even then, when I would stumble into work with eyes that burned out from exhaustion and lack of sleep, I didn’t feel nearly as wrung-out as I do now.

  My head is killing me. No wonder I can’t focus on anything. I throw a handful of the aspirin down my throat and take a gulp of my drink. That should help. I close my eyes and lean back for a few minutes. There is a quiet sigh from the tent and my eyes snap open.

  She is sucking her thumb in her sleep.

  I remember her unhappy little face this morning, when her mother abandoned her in my waiting room. How many times has she been passed around over the two years during the time she’s been in her mother’s care? How many people have actually truly cared for her?

  Regina’s high and mighty parents? No fucking way. They wouldn’t know what care meant if it sat up and bit them in the ass. They hated me. Even though I’d already made a name for myself in the tech world by the time I married Regina, and they couldn’t quite get away with accusing me of marrying their daughter for their money, they never stopped dropping sly hints.

  Maddie’s days of being passed around are over.

  I’ll hire a nanny, but I don’t plan on palming my kid off on anybody else. She deserves a happy life. The sort of parent who would hang her artwork on the fridge and attend all of her little school shows. Do schools still do that? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never attended anything, since Regina cut me off from all knowledge of my child’s life.

  Still not her fault. I could’ve pushed back, if I wasn’t so fucking focused on my business. Well, I’ve got my priorities in order now.

  I peer into the dim of the tent entrance. Her curly hair is like a brown cloud around her head. At least the itching has stopped now that she’s asleep. She’s like a little angel, so peaceful. My heart has never felt so full. She needs a father with his shit together. I have to be that father.

  “I’m going to do my best for you,” I whisper, still watching her sleep. “I just don’t know what that looks like yet. I need to figure it out. So you might have to be a little patient with me while I get it together. I’ve been alone for a long time. I need to adjust.”

  I turn and catch my reflection in the glass windows. It’s nearly ten o’clock and the glass is a mirror. There I am…a guy who looks like he’s been dragged backwards through a thorn bush. I barely recognize myself. My hair is in complete disarray from running my hands through it all day, my shirt is rumpled from sliding around in the tent, and my collar is wide open. Only the devil knows where I left my tie.

  I look away. I need to get my head on straight. Prioritize. Take advantage of the fact that Maddie is asleep and get some work done. I still have hours of work to do.

  I sure as hell can’t let the night escape me. I’m fighting for all I’ve worked for now. I open my emails and skim the subject lines, my eyes burning.

  Samantha

  Okay. This is it. This one’s for all the marbles.” I stop, cocking my head to the side. There’s nobody around to hear me at this time of night. I’m talking to myself again. Very worrying.

  With my pen poised over the clipboard, I hit the start button on the video camera, then the green square on the computer screen.

  “Here goes. Attempt one thousand at running the drone without the battery overheating.”

  I watch the drone fly in circles two feet below the ceiling. The minutes tick away. Twenty-five seconds to go before we hit the threshold where the temperature has always spiked and fried the circuits.

  “Come on, baby. Come on. You can do this. Just stay cool. Stay cool.” I’m chewing my lip hard enough for it to hurt as my eyes keep darting back and forth from the hovering drone to the clock. The seventh minute mark hits and I hold my breath.

  Please, please, please….

  The first sizzle tells me it’s over and my heart sinks as fast as the drone. It hits the metal table with a sickening sound. The familiar smell of burning fills the room.

  “Son of a bitch!” I groan, slamming the clipboard down. Nervous energy makes me pace the floor like a caged animal before I drop into a chair and stare at the ceiling. I’ve tried every tweak I can think of.

  I drop my head into my hands and closing my eyes, hold it for a minute. What am I supposed to do now? A sense of hopelessness settles over me. It’s been weeks I’ve been trying to tackle this issue and I’m not any further ahead than I was on day one. To top it all, the big cheese has sent down a missive through Ryland, my immediate boss— the drone has to be ready to be shown to the public in two weeks!

  The air in Ryland’s office turned blue when he gave me that juicy bit of information.

  “What am I missing?” I mutter, springing up and walking to the table where all the stats are spread out. Two weeks until we go to demo and I have no idea how to stop this drone from crashing and burning in less than seven minutes. I switch on the extractor fans and go back over the data from the last ten tests. There has to be something I’m missing. I bet it’ll end up being the stupidest possible oversight, too. I must be overthinking it. I must be.

  I roll my head on my neck to work out the kinks. My jaw hurts. I’ve been clenching my teeth for most of the day. That’s what I do when I’m stressed out. I rub my fingertips along the hinge of my jaw. Is it called a hinge? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, evidently. According to some people, I never have.

  What would my Dad think if he saw me standing here, floundering, giving myself a jaw massage? That he was right. As always. The jerk. My jaw tightens again and I know I shouldn’t think about him if I want to think straight.

  Click.

  I jump at the familiar, but unexpected, sound of the security locks behind me. Who else is here at nearly midnight?
I thought I was the only crazy one. Must be Ryland. I turn around. Of course, it is. I’m glad he’s here. If anybody will understand the frustration plaguing me, it’s him.

  “Ryland?” I say, dropping into the big leather chair behind the table. “You’re still here?”

  “You certainly are perceptive,” he says dryly. Perching on the edge of my desk, he loosens the tie I can’t believe he’s still wearing at this time of night.

  I lean back in the chair until I’m practically reclined and heave a sigh. “You really should talk to your boss about the hours he expects you to keep.”

  He shrugs. “Well, he expects it of himself too.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m surprised. He’s sort of a dick.”

  His wince tells me I’ve gone too far. “Now, now. Your personal problems with Lincoln are no concern of mine. We’ve discussed this before.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just tired and frustrated. I don’t even know the guy. I guess arrogant bullies just rub me up the wrong way.”

  “That’s right. You don’t know him. He’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a slave driver, but look at what he’s built with his bare hands.” He leans forward with the cocky smile I’ve learned to like. “And he signs your paychecks.”

  “He does not. I get direct deposit.”

  “Same difference.” His attention falls on the drone, still sitting where it crashed on the table. He scowls and looks at me sideways. “Still checking out at seven minutes, huh?”

  “Afraid so,” I mutter, and start massaging my jaw again, as stress threatens to overtake me.

  “If there’s anybody who can figure this out, I know it’s you. I wouldn’t have handed this project to you if I didn’t have ultimate faith in you.”

  “You’re doing it, you know.”

  “Doing what?”

  I throw a withering look his way that he knows has absolutely no bite to it. “Telling me what you think I want to hear, so you can squeeze more and more work out of me. Bolstering my confidence, so I’ll have the big breakthrough which reflects well on you.”

  He throws back his head and laughs, reminding me once again, why of the two of them, I prefer him over his best friend, and the Big Guy. Bossman. The one that everyone is soooooo in awe of. I have a few other names for him, but I know better than to let them fly in front of Ryland. How could two men practically grow up together but end up so vastly different?

  “As much as it tickles me to think of your work reflecting well on me, you would do well to remember that it’s your position in the company which sort of hinges on this. That is to say, your upward mobility. Not to mention that lovely bonus waiting for you.”

  “Right now, I’d give anything just to make that damn drone upwardly mobile.” The bonus is not important to me. If it were money I wanted, I could have just worked for my father. Or just looked for a rich husband like my stepsister.

  “It’s already upwardly mobile. The trick is making it stay that way.” He walks over, picks it up, and turns it over in his large hands. Holding it, he faces me. “I know you can figure this out, Sam. I have faith in you. That’s not smoke up your ass, either. I mean that.”

  “I know you do. I wonder if El Capitan will feel the same way when he finds out I’m still bombing.”

  “You have the chance to find out for yourself.” He grins.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I came down here to tell you that he asked to see us.”

  “And you left him waiting all this time, while the two of us sat here talking?” I jump out of my chair like it’s on fire.

  “Whew,” he teases. “For somebody who claims she doesn’t like Lincoln, she sure hops up like she can’t wait to see him.”

  That irritates me. “Shut up.”

  He grins. “I’m just saying.”

  “And I’m just saying you really need to start getting more sleep if you think you’re being funny right now.” Lincoln Cage is everything I hate about men, wrapped up in one tall, dark, smug, sexy package. Mr. Ultra-Masculine. God, I can’t stand him.

  If I were on Dr. Freud’s couch, he’d have some pretty clear ideas on why I feel the way I do. He’d wrap me up with a neat little bow and call it daddy issues. Lincoln Cage is a younger, hotter version of my dad. Unfortunately, he also happens to be more brilliant than my stepfather. Much as I hate to, I have to respect his achievements. Ryland is right about all the incredible things Lincoln has done in the short time he’s been in this industry.

  “What does he want from us?” I ask as I try to match my stride to Ryland’s looping long one out of the engineering department and down the hall to the elevator which will take us up to his office. I’ve never been up there. I’ve never ranked high enough.

  “A report on our progress. We had a bit of an emergency meeting today and he wanted something from me by close of business, but I knew you’d be burning the midnight oil and wanted to wait until your latest tests were complete.”

  “Emergency meeting?”

  “It’s a long story.” He waves it off. “Anyway, he’ll want to know how this issue is progressing.”

  “What you’re telling me is, I have to present a report to the CEO of the company, and I have roughly the next half-minute to prepare it.”

  “Something like that. Yes.”

  I have to lean against the wall of the elevator car for strength. “Great. Just so we’re clear.”

  “Fair warning,” he adds, glancing my way. “He’s had a really, really bad day.”

  There are only two things keeping my mouth shut right now. First, the fact that Ryland went to bat for me when it came time to hire a young woman as his Senior Engineer. Without him, I wouldn’t have a job in the first place. Second, the fact that he and Lincoln are so close, he’s obviously going to feel sorry for his best friend.

  So, instead of informing him that Lincoln Cage can stuff his bad day where the sun doesn’t shine, I simply reply, “Oh. Well. I wonder how that feels.”

  “No smartass remarks.”

  “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?” I eye him up and wonder just what he thinks of me.

  “Oh, I have faith enough,” he assures me with a grin. “But maybe because we’re far too much alike. I see a lot of me in you so let me warn you, your quick-witted jabs won’t be appreciated in this situation.”

  “I’ll play nice,” I promise, leaving out the part where Lincoln had better hope he plays nice, too. I’ve never been good at rolling over for a belly rub, no matter who I’m up against or how much leverage they have on me.

  Lincoln

  Where the fuck is Ryland? I love the guy as much as I could ever love another man, but there are times when I worry that he takes a little too much for granted. Like the limits of my patience. He has saved my life in more ways than one. He keeps me from blowing up daily and God knows, my Engineering and Development department wouldn’t be in half the shape they’re in if it weren’t for him. He knows talent when he sees it and he knows how to keep them performing using a slick carrot and stick method he has turned into an art.

  But I don’t take this slack shit lightly. I shouldn’t have to wait so damned long for a face-to-face. He’s kept me waiting exactly seventeen minutes. Sixteen minutes too long. The sound of leisurely footsteps outside the conference door sparks my outrage further. “What took you so long?” I look up from the monitor to glare at him.

  He has the good sense to at least look cowed by my reaction as he pauses in the doorway. “Sorry,” he replies, as he steps aside to reveal the petite, curvaceous, sapphire-eyed blonde behind him.

  Oh, I get it now. He’s been lounging around with our newest Senior Engineer, his protégé, Sam or whatever-her-name-is. He fooled me with that little nickname of hers, made me believe he was hiring a man. Not that there’s anything wrong with women working in tech—I’m not a monster from the stone ages—but for some weird reason, she grates on my nerves.

  One of those girls who think it’s a good idea to
wear shapeless, masculine clothes and call themselves by male names. My brain notes the way she has pulled her long, golden hair back in a tight ponytail. No makeup either, though she’s young and pretty enough to not need it. Even so, couldn’t she try to be slightly feminine? She’s wearing loafers, for God’s sake. Although, there isn’t much she can do to hide what she has going on under that crisp shirt and slacks. If I wasn’t so exhausted and put-out…My gaxe travel upwards to meet hers.

  She lifts her chin and stares at me with those beautiful eyes, but in exactly the way a certain ex-wife of mine likes to do.

  In fact, it’s the way she stared at me earlier today. Just like that, all thoughts pertaining to her body and what is or isn’t softly jiggling under her blouse—vanish. “Oh, I see. You’re the one holding up the works, then?” I ask.

  She blinks, as though she doesn’t understand the question. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that we’d perfected teleportation yet.” Then she shoots a look at a very flustered Ryland. “Was that done in-house?”

  He grimaces, shrugging at me in an apologetic way. Women. What can you do?

  I’d love to tell him right now what I’d like to do, but I don’t feel like giving her room to bring me up on charges of unprofessionalism or whatever she might come up with. I narrow my eyes. “Miss…”

  “Harper,” she replies, all but rolling her eyes when I don’t remember her last name.

  I do remember it, but I would rather have her think that I don’t. An age-old tactic. Make sure they know how unimportant they are. Keep them from getting too big a head about themselves. “Miss Harper, I don’t know how Ryland conducts business down in your department, but I think it’s only fair to inform you of my intolerance for backtalk. We’re not friends. We’re barely colleagues, and seeing as how you haven’t held your position for very long, I’d be very careful about what you say.”

  “Fair enough,” she murmurs. But she doesn’t apologize.