Dancing with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 2) Read online

  Dancing with the Single Dad

  Single Dads of Seattle, Book 2

  Whitley Cox

  Copyright © 2019 by Whitley Cox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review

  ISBN: 978-1-989081-18-1

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Saved by the Single Dad - Sneak Peek

  If You’ve Enjoyed This Book

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Whitley Cox

  About the Author

  You can also find me here

  Join My Street Team

  Don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter

  For Kathleen Lawless.

  You answered my email and changed my life.

  I couldn’t imagine my world or writing career without you and your friendship.

  Thank you, for everything—especially the champagne!

  xoxo

  About the Book

  Welcome to Seattle, the Emerald City and home to The Single Dads of Seattle. Ten sexy single fathers who play poker every Saturday night, have each other's backs, love their children without quarter, and hope to one day find love again.

  This is Adam's story ...

  Single Dad of Seattle, Adam Eastwood, knows that dance school is just the thing for his precocious daughter, Mira. She already spends most days twirling around the house in a tutu and tiara, why not pay a professional to teach her how to do it properly? Only Adam didn't account for that professional to be the Violet Benson from a very famous New York ballet company. Not only is Violet a natural beauty who floats more than she dances, but she's the kind of woman Adam's been searching for all his life.

  Grieving the loss of her dance partner and boyfriend, Violet is done with performing on stage. How can she go on when the love of her life is no longer there to catch her? Deciding a change is best, she moves back home to Seattle, determined to fulfill their dream of opening up a dance school. It's not until she's asked to dance for Art in the Park that she realizes maybe she's not quite ready to hang up her dance shoes. Would it be wrong to take the stage one last time? It must be wrong to feel what she feels when she's dancing with Mira's handsome father.

  Adam's wounds are still fresh from his divorce, and Violet's dealing with a loss of her own, but somehow they keep winding up in each other's arms with neither of them willing to let go. But it's never easy to conquer the past.

  Will Violet let fear and grief keep her from her dreams? Or will Adam convince her that the show must go on and dancing with the single dad might just be the way for her to find her happily ever after?

  1

  “Can I wear my princess dress to dance class? And my tiara? And my cape? And my light-up princess shoes? Can I bring my magic wand? My fairy wings?”

  Adam Eastwood had to stifle a chuckle at the excitement of his four-year-old daughter, Mira. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. It says here that dancers are expected to wear tights, bodysuits and leather ballet or jazz shoes.”

  “What about a tutu?”

  “It says a small ballet skirt is optional.” He grabbed his phone and brought up the registration email that had shown up in his inbox last week.

  Mira abandoned her dress-up box and came to sit next to him on the couch, immediately running her small hand over his short-trimmed beard. It was one of her favorite things to do. A sense of comfort for her. After her mother moved out, Mira had fallen asleep every night stroking her father’s beard. Truth be told, it’d become a sense of comfort for him too.

  “See, baby. It says here no princess dresses or costumes. Because they’re worried about you not being able to move enough in the dresses or they might get wrecked.”

  Her big blue eyes, with long lashes, blinked a few times as she stared at the email from Benson School of Dance. She made an adorable pouty face but finally nodded. “Not even my tiara?”

  She couldn’t read, so he pointed at the address. “Says right here, no tiaras. Same reason as the costumes. What if it fell off and someone stepped on it? Cracked it?”

  “I would be sad.”

  “That’s right. So let’s just stick with the new dance outfit we bought you yesterday, okay?”

  Her sigh was big. His daughter was quite melodramatic when she wanted to be. “Okay.”

  He kissed her on the side of her head, her dark hair like watermelon-scented silk beneath his lips. “That’s a good girl. Now go get changed. Dance class starts in half an hour.”

  She slid off the couch and skipped down the hallway. “Can I at least wear my princess underwear?”

  Adam nodded his head and laughed. “Sure, honey. Go for it.” He pushed himself up on the couch and wandered into the kitchen to prepare his daughter a snack for after dance.

  It was only a one-hour class, and he would probably stick around, at least for the first class. But if swimming lessons and her small bout in gymnastics had taught him anything, it was even the smallest amount of play or exercise made his picky eater of a child starving.

  “Pack my water bottle, Daddy,” Mira called from down the hall. “And a grolla bar. The one with the chocolate chips.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. She knew what she wanted, he had to give her that. She just went about getting it in a very dictatorial way.

  “She’s going to be a leader,” his grandmother would say. “A titan of industry.”

  “Or she’s going to take over a nation and enslave the locals,” his grandfather would add.

  His grandmother would just chuckle, then scoop Mira up in her arms and plunk her on her lap, nuzzling her hair. “Our tiny Napoleon.”

  Mira’s heavy-footed run echoed down the hallway as she ran her long-legged body toward him. She was tall for her age but all limbs. A bit gangly, but hopefully she would grow out of that. “Can you help me with my straps, Daddy? They’re twisted.” She made a face to describe what she meant, twisting her lips and wrinkling her nose.

  He bent down and untwisted the straps of her bodysuit, then grabbed her skirt from her hands and helped her step into it. “Almost ready to go?”

  She was all smiles. “Yep. I just need to get my ballet slippers.”

  “Okay, well, be quick about it. We don’t want to be late on your first day.”

  She was already halfway down the hall. “Okaaaaay!”

  Violet Benson took a deep breath and smoothed the black spandex of her ballet skirt down her legs.

  It was opening day. A beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was the first day of May, and Benson School of Dance was officially open to the public for dance lessons.

  Her dream … their dream was finally becoming a reality.

  And she felt sick to her stomach.

 
“It’ll be okay,” her receptionist Kathleen cooed, her fingers tapping away on the keyboard. “You’ve created a beautiful studio. Everyone is going to love it. They’re going to love you.”

  Violet swallowed. “I hope so.”

  She straightened the picture of Jean-Phillipe that didn’t need to be straightened. His smile made the strings of her heart tighten. This had been his dream. And then it became their dream. Now it was her dream, and she was finally, after far too long, making it a reality.

  “He’s already so proud of you,” Kathleen said, watching Violet run her finger over Jean-Phillipe’s cheek. “You’re going to do amazing things, put on amazing shows, and he’ll be there for everything. Watching you, cheering for you.”

  Violet smiled at Kathleen, though it was a forced smile and one that she neither felt in her heart nor had the strength to keep on her face for more than a second or two. “It should be the both of us welcoming in our first students.”

  Kathleen stood up and wandered around to stand next to Violet, wrapping a motherly arm around her shoulder. “And it will be. He’s here in spirit, and you’re here in person.”

  The bell for the front door chimed, and the sound of parents and children filled the space.

  Show time.

  “Welcome, boys and girls, parents, grandparents. I am Miss Violet, your dance instructor, and I am so excited that you’ve all decided to try Benson School of Dance.”

  Ten children, all between the ages of four and six, sat on the floor at her feet. Their parents sat in chairs along the wall. Big eyes stared up at her. Hopeful eyes.

  “How many of you have ever taken dance before?”

  A few hands shot up.

  “Parents? Do we have any dancing parents?”

  One or two of the mothers waved their hands.

  And the only father.

  Hmm.

  “So we’ve got some experienced dancers in our mix, as well as some beginners. That’s wonderful. We welcome all levels.”

  One little girl, with the lilac bodysuit and skirt to match, put her hand in the air.

  “Yes? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She stood up, confidence radiating from every part of her. “My name is Mira.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mira. And how old are you?”

  Mira held up four fingers. “I’m four and a half.”

  Violet grinned, chuckling to herself. “Four is a great age.”

  Mira nodded. “And a half.”

  “Right! That half is very important. Did you have a question, Mira?”

  She nodded again. “Do you not let us wear tiaras because you’re worried it will fall off our heads and someone will step on it and break it?”

  A muffled laugh came over from the parents along the wall. The man who’d raised his hand, a very attractive man with blue eyes, coppery brown hair and a short-trimmed beard, was trying not to laugh but doing a terrible job of it. His big, muscular frame shook in his navy polo and worn jeans.

  Violet turned back to Mira. “I’m afraid so, Mira. I would feel terrible if you wore a crown or tiara to dance class and it fell off and broke. It’s probably best to save that for playing dress-up at home.”

  Mira turned around to face her dad. Her father simply shrugged and made a helpless face.

  Mira spun back around to face Violet, a big pout on her lips, but there was still determination in her eyes. “What about a paper crown?”

  There was more laughter from the parents.

  Violet liked this child immediately.

  “I’ll tell you what, Mira. Later in the year we’ll have a special dress-up day where everyone can wear their favorite dress-up clothes, including tiaras and crowns. How does that sound?”

  The little girl’s blue eyes sparkled, and she nodded. “Okay. I like that.”

  Violet smiled. “Wonderful.”

  Mira sat back down, spinning around to give her dad a big thumbs up. He returned the gesture in kind.

  There was another chime at the front door, followed by commotion. She knew they were going to be late. Jayda didn’t get out of school until two thirty, and that was nearly across town.

  Her brother Mitch and niece Jayda ran into the studio, both red-faced and out of breath. “Sorry,” Mitch mouthed, taking a seat next to Mira’s dad. Jayda ran toward the group of children on the floor, one dance shoe on, one dance shoe off. She slid down on her butt next to Mira and proceeded to put on her other slipper.

  “Hi, Aunt Violet,” she whispered. “Sorry we’re late. There was a car accident, and we got stuck in traffic.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  She turned to face the parents along the wall. “There is a waiting room outside for parents, with coffee and tea, but we do ask that you leave the studio during dance practice. We find the children listen better to the dance teacher when their parents are not in the room.”

  All the parents nodded and slowly started to rise out of their seats, heading toward the doors. All but Mira’s dad. He hung back, apprehension in his eyes. Mira wasn’t even paying attention to her dad; she was busy talking to Jayda about their matching skirts.

  “There is a two-way mirror in the waiting room,” Violet said. “So you can see us, but we’re not distracted by you.”

  Mira’s dad’s bright sapphire eyes, framed by ridiculously long lashes, perked up, and his smile nearly made Violet melt on the spot. “Thanks.” Then he left.

  She was grateful for Kathleen’s suggestion of the two-way mirror, because having Mira’s dad in the room was definitely going to be distracting. She hadn’t met a man quite so attractive since moving back to Seattle. She hadn’t seen a man quite so attractive since Jean-Phillipe.

  Guilt and grief stabbed her in the gut at the same time.

  Jean-Phillipe.

  How could she even think about another man when the love of her life was gone and all that was left of him was his picture hanging in the hallway and his dream of opening up a dance studio?

  She couldn’t let the pain in her heart cripple her. Not today. Not on opening day. Turning back to the children, she clapped her hands three times and tossed on the biggest smile she could muster. Eventually she wouldn’t be faking. Eventually the smile would be real, right?

  “All right, children, let’s get dancing. Everyone spread out and find some room.” She walked over to the big stereo system on the wall and hit the on button. Fun, happy, poppy music with a lively beat began to play, and all the children started to move. “Let’s get our wiggles out before we start some routines.”

  Then, pretending to not care, but actually caring a lot that Mira’s father was watching them behind the mirror, she did what she did best and let the music take over her body. Let it fill her soul and move her limbs. She didn’t have to see him to know he was there. Watching Mira. Watching Violet. And for some reason, she didn’t mind. She smiled at the mirror when she came out of her pirouette, made eye contact with the man behind the glass, and for the first time in a very long time, the smile felt real.

  2

  Adam thrust out his hand toward the only other dad in the waiting room. “Adam.”

  The other man grasped his hand and shook it. “Mitch. Nice to meet you. Which one is yours?”

  Adam pointed to Mira, who seemed to be enamored with Mitch’s daughter and was watching and mimicking her every move. “That one. The one who is copying everything your daughter does.”

  Mitch chuckled. “Violet’s my sister, so Jayda has been dancing with her aunt for a bit now.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Six. Yours?”

  “Four, but she’ll be quick to correct me and say she’s four and a half.”

  Mitch chuckled. “Half ages are very important.”

  “That they are.”

  “What do you do?” Adam asked, seeing the individual coffee pods stacked on the table in the corner and immediately feeling his caffeine addiction rear its ugly head. He wandered over to the table and be
gan to make a cup, gesturing to Mitch to see if he wanted one as well. He nodded.

  “I’m a photographer,” Mitch replied. “You?”

  “Biology professor.”

  “Oh cool, at UW?”

  Adam nodded and handed Mitch his coffee. “Yeah. I run a lab there. We work on genome mapping of aquaculture.”

  Mitch’s eyes went wide in confusion rather than interest. Adam could tell he needed to elaborate.

  “Basically like Ancestry.com, but for fish.”

  Understanding crossed Mitch’s face, and his smile went wide. “Ah, gotcha. Very cool.”

  “What kind of photography do you do?” They wandered over to a bench that gave them a perfect view of the children dancing and sat down, sipping their coffee.

  “All kinds. Weddings, corporate, landscape, wildlife, still life, family. I went to arts school and majored in photography, so I can really do it all. Vi has asked me to take pictures of her dancers for the website, as well as at the recitals.”

  While getting his coffee, Adam had tried to keep his eyes on Mira. She’d been so excited to start dance class, and from what he could tell, she was doing great. Only he kept getting distracted by the dance teacher. As much as he was enjoying watching his daughter dance, he was also enjoying watching Miss Violet dance as well. It helped that the woman was also gorgeous. He wasn’t really interested in dating at the moment, hadn’t been with anyone since Paige, and that had been a long time ago. Even when they were still married, she had checked out mentally, emotionally and physically and simply just existed. It had been an amicable split, but not one he wanted to happen at all.