Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
So many emotions want to bubble out, emotions I’ve been able to pack away because I haven’t needed to interact with Nate. Emotions I’ve been able to utilize for other things. Like pining for Nate’s Dad.
Now that I know Dylan… I’m not sure how much I trust Nate’s version of events.
Dylan may be brooding and standoffish and, sure, maybe not the best dad.
But a villain? Hardly.
“Nate, I always respected you needing distance from your family. In fact, I loved what a free spirit you were and how you didn’t feel indebted to anyone or anything.” I look Nate hard in the eye. “But then you took my family from me. The only family I had.”
Nate’s puppyish eyes slowly turn as the cogs work in his brain. They darken with confusion, and then… “That’s not fair.”
I lift my chin. “I think it is.”
His lips I once thought were so beautiful and pillowy coil. “You can’t blame me for your-“
“Don’t you dare.” I’m mesmerized by how cool I am.
While Nate’s anger brews, I only seem to get calmer. And colder.
Nate shakes his head. “I love you. I wanted to be your family.”
“You ruined too much for that.”
“I didn’t mean-“
“I don’t care. It’s done.”
Nate takes a step back from me, appraising me from head to toe. His eyes give away his bewilderment.
Because I’m not the woman he knew in California. I’ve changed beyond recognition. I’m getting a grip on reality, fixing my problems. Becoming a boss.
Falling for his dad.
Yeah, I’m different.
As if the universe is playing a trick on me, a flash of Dylan comes out in Nate’s expression.
I almost smile. Because I know Dylan would protect me from this. He’s already done a much better job than Nate at taking care of me in the one month I’ve known him.
“You’ll never be happy if you blame everybody else for the bad things that happen to you, Olivia.” Nate’s surfer boy exterior falls away for the angry bull inside.
Nate might be the go-with-the-flow kind of guy, but I’m not. I believe shit happens for a reason.
And Nate is my reason. So, I’m done.
“I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other.”
“You think I got your dad into something just by-“
My anger flares, calmness exchanged for ire. “I said, don’t talk about him.”
“I won’t take blame for something I had no control over, Olivia.”
It all comes out at once, a terrible scream from the back of my throat.
I reach for something, anything, and my hands land on a metal pot on the counter. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him gone. I whip the pot to the floor, past his feet.
It clatters, striking my eardrums.
Nate jumps away from me.
“GET OUT!”
If he says anything else, I don’t hear it around the blood pounding in my ears.
As I calm down a bit, moments later, I’m alone.
I drop to the floor, tears cascading down my face.
I’ve lost so much in the past few years. And I have to work so hard to recover the damage.
And Nate… It’s all his fault. I stand by that.
When the tears abate, I lift my chin as a resolve strikes me.
Nate took everything from me. My family, my life, my freedom to do as I please. How is it fair that he takes this as well? I’m done feeling bad about feeling attracted to Dylan on Nate’s account.
Dylan is someone I never counted on. Someone I never knew I needed in my life. And I want Dylan Hill. I want him so bad.
Taking Nate out of the equation means one of the tall walls preventing me from having my boss just collapsed. And I’m not sure the other wall is strong enough to hold by itself much longer.
DYLAN POV
Farley takes a measuring tape to the wall, spanning it from one wine rack to the other. Before he can get to where he needs to, the tape snaps back on him. He huffs.
I scoff. “You know, I can help.” I look askance at the designer we’ve hired who is admiring the ceiling rather than helping with the measurements he asked for.
Farley laughs, an undercurrent of frustration in his voice. “No, no, I can do this. It’s just a tape measure, for god’s sake.”
He tries again. Before the tape measure can snap back, I grab it and hold it up, giving the COO a knowing look.
Farley rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like you’re my dad.”
After looking at the tape, Farley calls out to the designer. “Eight feet and change.”
“Can I have an exact measurement?” His nasal voice echoes off my eardrum in a particularly grating way.
Farley sighs, looking at the tape again. “Eight feet and three inches.”
“Thank you.” The designer makes a note on his clipboard. I release the tape, chuckling at the yelp it elicits out of Farley when it snaps back into place.
Marty Villanueva was so impressed with the club after speaking with Olivia that he not only signed on for membership but also donated the money to have a whisky room built off of the wine cellar. “That way, my wife can keep an eye on me,” he explained.
I don’t know what Olivia did to make him so generous, but I’m not surprised. Everyone at the club loves Olivia, employees and members alike. She pours everything into her job and doesn’t cut corners. She always wears a smile, looks her best, and manages to straddle the line between authority and friend with everyone that I’ve never seemed to manage.
I think she’ll get a raise at her quarterly review. Seems only fair considering how much she’s brought to the Hill Club already.
Not to mention how much she’s brought to me.
Farley huffs. “The construction will be a nightmare.”
I can’t help but agree as we watch the designer pace back and forth across the floor. “We’ll leave that for the professionals to figure out.”
Farley scoffs. “They’ll have to dig out a whole new room! Surely that will make it nightmarish to be in the club.”
“You know we will spare no expense to make sure the construction is soundproof and well ventilated.” I pause. “And if we have to shut things down for a day here and there, then so be it. We can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
With a pout, Farley responds with a simple, “Neigh.”
I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”
“I don’t know how I feel about all of this. We can’t just spring this on Olivia, she just started. And you know how our members can get when things change on them.”
Yes, they can get…difficult.
The designer points to a corner. “Can we get a measurement over here?”
Farley sighs. I pat him on the back. “Look, you keep measuring without killing yourself, and I’ll get Olivia to get her opinion, alright?”
The mere mention of Olivia’s name gets hot around the collar. I avoid saying it myself to avoid going up in flames.
If all it takes is her name to make my blood boil, seeing her sends me into a whole new stratosphere. Which is why I try my best to stay away.
Who am I kidding? I’m not trying my best at all. Not by a long shot. I offered to get her, didn’t I?
“Sounds fair.” Farley’s attention goes to a bottle of red on one of the racks. “Oooh, a nineteen-seventy-five Yellerman pinot noir?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And no sampling the merchandise.
I head back into the main atrium of the club, greeting members as I go, fielding complaints, concerns, and a compliment from Trudy Heller, who hasn’t stopped hitting on me since I was twenty-three.
