Neighbors with the Single Dad

Single Dad of Seattle, Scott Dixon wasn't looking for love when he tagged along to a bachelor party one night. And he certainly wasn't looking for a one-night-stand with an intriguing redhead with moss-green eyes and a killer smile. But that's exactly what he got. Only, when she vanishes the next morning without a trace, Scott's heart is broken and his ego a little bruised. What's a guy to do?

Rain
poured and wind pounded the city of Seattle on a cold and miserable March
night. Luckily, for all the patrons inside the very happening Ludo Lounge,
where ladies drank for half price until eleven, it could be a zombie apocalypse
or the rapture and nobody would be the wiser.

The outside world ceased to exist.

Over the last hour, the music in the lounge had picked up, going from smooth, club
jazz to full-on dance music with a bass that Scott Dixon could feel in the very
deepest parts of his chest. It was no longer cocktail hour—it was time to dance.

Which, for many, also meant it was time to start looking for a hookup.

Not Scott though. He wasn’t there for that, at least not tonight.

He
hardly ever saw Donovan Smythe anymore, now that Scott had switched companies. But a couple of weeks ago, Donovan called, excited about his wedding and
insisting that Scott come to his bachelor party. Scott, people-pleasing middle
child that he was, agreed.

Now he was regretting it.

There was a reason he and Donovan weren’t that close anymore.

Donovan was a bit of a tool, and so were his friends. The group had been obnoxious
assholes, hitting on and offending waitresses and talking about heading to a
strip club to go and throw quarters at the entertainers.

Scott ordered himself a drink at the bar, turned and leaned back against it, watching
the embarrassing theatrics back at the bachelor party table. He cringed
inwardly when one of the guys let out a thunderous belch and the rest cheered.

The bartender could take his sweet time making Scott’s drink. He had no intention
of heading back to those buffoons anytime soon.

“Drink’s up, man,” the bartender said behind him, only when Scott went to turn back
around, a freight train, or something very akin to such, slammed into his side.

“Hey, watch—” His gripe died on his lips as he watched the woman who’d crashed into
him teetering on high heels as she hooked it around the corner toward the
bathrooms.  

“Sorry,” she called back, waving a hand, her long red hair flipping behind her as she
disappeared.

He thanked the bartender for his drink but didn’t budge. The bachelor partiers had
ordered Donovan a muff diver, and the man of the hour’s face had just been
shoved into a heaping pile of whipped cream.

Philistines.

Scott took a sip of his whiskey and leaned his elbow on the bar. There was also
another reason why he hadn’t moved yet.  He wanted to catch another glimpse of the
whirling dervish with hair of fire before he rejoined his group.

It didn’t take long—maybe thirty seconds—before the redhead in the heels returned,
her face scrunched up in what looked like pain, her green eyes darting
frantically around the bar.

He approached her. “Is everything okay?”

Her eyes stilled, pinning on him. Her lips dipped into a deep frown as she shook
her head. “I have to pee and the line for the women’s bathroom is ten miles
long. I’ll never make it.”

Scott placed a hand on her shoulder and gently moved her out of the way, glancing
down the corridor for the bathrooms with its black painted walls. Sure enough,
the line for the women’s bathroom stretched at least fifteen women deep. The
men’s room, on the other hand, had no line at all.

He grabbed her hand. “Follow me.” At a quick clip, he hauled her down the hallway
and turned in to the men’s room, heaving the heavy door open with one hand
while encouraging her to step inside with the other.

Her emerald eyes went wide. “This is the men’s room!” Her voice was low, almost a
hiss.

Scott shrugged. “So?”

But her desperation won out, and with a quick eye shift down the hall toward the
long line of women doing the bathroom dance, she nodded, then stepped inside.

“Hello?” Scott called out into the bathroom. “Anybody in here?”

Luckily, there was no answer.

His beautiful companion let out a sigh of relief, her slender shoulders slumping
just a touch as she pushed past him.

“You go do what you need to do, and I’ll stand watch outside, give you some
privacy.” Before she could come up with any more ridiculous protestations, he
headed back out.

He still had his drink, so with one hand in his pocket, his shoulder against the
doorjamb, he sipped his whiskey and waited for her to emerge.

Not four minutes later, a throat clearing behind him and a gentle tap on his
shoulder let him know she was finished. He unblocked the door and held his hand
out for her to go ahead of him, not just because he was a gentleman, but also
because he wanted to check out her ass.

This woman was hot!

Tall and slim with nice curves, long legs and … yes! A rocking ass. And it was only
played up by the sexy black pants she wore and those gold, strappy fuck-me heels. He gained ground, so he was right behind her. Not to be weird or anything—he just wanted to double-check if she was taller than him in those
heels.

Phew.