Daddy's Day_A Secret Baby Father's Day Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Daddy’s Day

  Also By Gage Grayson & Carter Blake

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Author’s Note

  I enjoy a good love story, but then who doesn’t? The hopeless romantic in me enjoys reading about two souls coming together and finding that spark that really makes life worth living. There’s just something about reading these characters find the best parts of themselves and sharing that with another.

  It’s…romantic.

  But my personal favorite—and this is the optimist in me—really enjoys reading about hearts reconnecting and characters giving each other another chance. There’s something joyous about two hearts reconnecting and learning that their love cannot be ignored, or left behind to be forgotten. That’s why I’m a sucker for books about second chances and reconnecting.

  They speak to that part of me truly believes that love conquers all. And that—at the end of the day—we all just want to be loved.

  And that’s what this book is about…two souls reconnecting and learning that love is what it’s all really about. Of course there are some twists and turns along the way—it wouldn’t be me otherwise—but we can’t make it too easy on them now can we?

  Dylan and Brooke are two characters who’ve come to mean a lot to me. Their journey in this book hit a personal cord in me. And, I can speak for Gage, when I say they mean a lot to him as well.

  And I know that they—and their journey—will come to mean a lot to you too.

  But, most importantly, I hope that you walk away from this book with a smile on your face, and with the reaffirmation that love is something to be celebrated, cherished, and powerfully passionate.

  Yours,

  Carter Blake

  Daddy’s Day

  A Secret Baby Father’s Day Romance

  By Gage Grayson & Carter Blake

  Copyright 2018 by Third Base Press

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.

  Want Gage Grayson & Carter Blake in your inbox? Get freebies, new release updates, bonus chapters, and more!

  Sign up for Carter Blake’s newsletter!

  Sign up for Gage Grayson’s newsletter!

  Also By Gage Grayson & Carter Blake

  Dedication

  To Sheila

  Chapter 1

  Dylan

  “We, the jury, find the defendant…not guilty.”

  Judge Reiner, a plump balding man, bangs his gavel and declares the case dismissed.

  My client, Michael “Mick” Hickey, looks relieved—and he should.

  The man is a washed-up boxer who couldn’t hack it anymore and decided to get involved in more questionable pursuits.

  He offers his hand in gratitude, and I take it.

  I lean in and whisper in his ear, “You get busted doing this shit again, and I’m charging you double. Understood?”

  The broad-shouldered man with the cauliflower ear nods in understanding.

  Everyone begins to clear out of the courtroom, and soon, it’s just me and the DA—a guy named Tyler Volk—left in the grandiose room.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see his frustration mounting. I get it. I’d be just as frustrated too if I was just handed my fifth consecutive loss.

  Tyler slips off his trendy, wire-frame glasses and sets them down on the table. The man is about my age, but years of stress in the district attorney’s office have aged him to the point that he looks ten years older—minus the fact that he can’t seem to grow any facial hair at all.

  “Speak your mind, Volk,” I tell him.

  “How do you do it, Dylan?”

  “Win? Easy. I’m good at my job.”

  Evidently, judging from the roll of his eyes, he’s not a fan of my casual tone or the grin on my face.

  “No, how do you continuously defend these scum and assholes so casually without any sign of remorse at all?”

  I like Volk. He’s a good guy. Hell, I play golf with him and the mayor every Sunday at the Inwood Country Club.

  But the man is far too much of a bleeding heart. He thinks that just because he sees someone as guilty, a jury will see it, too. It makes him a bit lazy—thanks to false confidence—in the courtroom.

  It’s why I beat him each and every time we square off.

  “That’s the thing, Tyler. It’s not my place to determine who’s guilty or who’s innocent. I’m here to do a job. If you believe someone so vehemently to be guilty, then you should’ve done a better job at making sure they get put behind bars. I do my job. Maybe you should do yours.”

  “It’s not about right or wrong for you, is it?”

  I toss the last of my papers into my briefcase and close it up. My lips purse together for a moment before quirking upward into a lopsided smirk.

  “Tyler, how many years have you known me?”

  “Feels like it’s too long some days,” he replies with a half-hearted chuckle.

  “Then you should know by now that it’s not about right or wrong. It’s about winning and losing. And I like to win.”

  The district attorney rolls his eyes at me again—his favorite hobby—and my smirk turns into a beaming smile.

  “There’s more to life than winning and losing.” He shakes his head. “You have a real talent, Andrews. You could make an actual difference.”

  Oh, great, here it comes.

  “Think of all the good you could do in my office. New York would be a better place with you in the district attorney’s office, you know.”

  It’s an offer I’ve heard before—ever since I arrived on the scene after graduating from Harvard, actually—and it’s one I’ll likely hear again in the future.

  But working in the DA’s office has never been my dream or my goal. I want my name on the side of a building. I want to be part of a law firm, not just as a member of the team, but as one of the guys in charge.

  No, I want to be the man in charge.

  That’s why I played quarterback in high school and college.

  “You know you can’t afford me, Tyler.”

  “Are your Gucci suits really that important to you?” he asks, sliding his glasses back onto his tired-looking face.

  “Armani, actually.”

  “Semantics.”

  “Clearly, you’ve never worn an Armani suit,” I
counter with a chuckle.

  “You’re already worth millions. Hell, you have more money than you’ll ever be able to spend. So obviously, there’s something holding you back other than money.”

  “Well, what can I say? I just don’t like playing for the losing team.”

  “Just give it some thought?”

  He offers his hand, and I give it a firm shake in return.

  “I’ve given it as much thought as I’m going to. See you Sunday?”

  We part ways, and I return to my office, the Law Firm of Parker, McDowell, & Emmerich.

  It may not be New York’s largest law firm, but it’s the best. It’s why I accepted the job offer from them after leaving Harvard. No other law firm in New York City has their success rate.

  And as I’ve told the DA in the past, I like to play for the winning team.

  I’m barely in the door when I’m greeted by Roland Parker, who is one of my bosses in the firm. Roland is a legend in the New York law scene. The man has set more precedents than any other lawyer in the history of the state.

  And he’s exactly what you would expect such a legend to look like. He’s tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, and built like Sylvester Stallone—who he’s actually friends with.

  Not bad for a guy who’s just north of seventy.

  “Well done, Dylan, my boy,” he says as he pats me on the shoulder in that thick New York accent of his. “You’ve made everyone proud. We thought that case was unwinnable.”

  I laugh. “Unwinnable, huh? Is that why you gave me the case? Hoped it would be my first loss? Teach me some lesson about humility?”

  Roland shakes his head with an infectious laugh

  “Fuck, no! We gave you that case because you’re our golden boy. If anyone’s going to win the unwinnable, it’s you.”

  “So, I’m your star player, huh?”

  “You, Dylan, are my Eli Manning.”

  I stop and turn to Roland, shaking my head in disagreement.

  “Roland, you insult me. It’s bad enough to compare me to the worst of the two Mannings, but to compare me to a Giant’s player? That hurts.”

  “Ah, yes, you’re a Tom Brady man, aren’t you?”

  “Well, he is the greatest of all time.”

  “Agree to disagree,” Roland laughs with a shake of his head. “Anyway, good job. I’m sure the others will be down later to congratulate you, too.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  The two of us shake hands and part ways, Roland to his office upstairs, and I to mine.

  I set my briefcase down on my desk and take a seat in my plush leather chair. I’m about to spin around to enjoy the picturesque view of the city’s skyline when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  I’m expecting to see one of the other partners of the firm, but I’m greeted by the brunette curls of my secretary Lisa.

  Normally, Lisa is all smiles, but not today. Today, her attractive features are twisted into a mix of anxiety and sadness.

  “What’s going on, Lisa?”

  “Umm, well. I have some bad news, Mr. Andrews.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad. What is it?”

  “It’s your mother.”

  Those three words make my heart leap into my throat and my blood turn cold.

  I swallow hard.

  I know what’s coming. I tell myself that it’s just me thinking the worst and that it isn’t what I think.

  I pray that it isn’t.

  “What about her?”

  “She passed away this morning while you were in court,” she answers quietly.

  “Thank you, Lisa.” My voice sounds hollow, almost as if it belongs to someone else.

  “I’m so sor—”

  “Thank you, Lisa,” I say again coldly.

  She nods and leaves.

  My eyes fall to the picture on my desk of my mother, father, and me at my Harvard graduation ceremony.

  I get up from my chair and go straight to my mini-bar. I don’t bother pouring myself a glass—I don’t have the patience for that today.

  I drink the amber-colored scotch straight from the bottle.

  Normally, I savor the taste of my bottle of Dalmore 15 and relish in the cherry, cinnamon, and nutmeg flavor. This time though, I just want to drown all the emotions twisting away into knots in my gut.

  Only it doesn’t work.

  I feel numb everywhere but my stomach.

  I’ve avoided going back to Texas for fifteen years—I’ve even managed to lose most of my accent.

  But now, there’s no avoiding it.

  I need to go back.

  And not only do I have to go back to face the ordeal of burying my mother, but I have to deal with the very real possibility that I’ll see Brooke Sinclair all over again.

  Chapter 2

  Brooke

  “Hey, Miss Sinclair, what if we went with an Under the Sea theme?”

  A laugh rolls off my tongue.

  Each and every year, it’s the first theme that the student body suggests for senior prom.

  I’ll admit, I was guilty of that myself when I was student president my year. And, we did it, too, which is why I hate the whole “Under the Sea” theme for proms.

  I try not to sound too bitter whenever someone suggests it—since my date left me at prom so that he could grab the last bus out of town and go to Harvard Law—but the truth is, I am bitter.

  Even now, fifteen years later.

  “Sara, trust me when I say that you don’t want to do Under the Sea.”

  “Why not?”

  The blonde teen almost looks hurt, but then again, Sara always looks hurt whenever someone challenges her suggestions.

  She’s a good kid. She’s just not used to being told “no.”

  “Sara, we did that for my prom year. Do you want to be the student body president who chose an old, outdated theme for prom? Wouldn’t you rather have something more original and leave a lasting legacy?”

  The blonde senior tilts her head to the side as she ponders my comment before nodding in agreement.

  “You make a valid point, Miss Sinclair. We need something trendy and fresh, not prehistoric.”

  “Wait. Prehistoric? Just how old do you think I am?”

  She opens her mouth to speak, and I throw my hand up to stop her. “You know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  There’s a dull roar of laughter among the students that echoes through the gym.

  “Have you guys thou—”

  The gym doors open with a loud creak and cut me off. Principal Barnes steps through, her heels clacking against the floor.

  Helen looks good for a woman pushing sixty. Her hair is still dark and shiny, not a gray strand in sight, and she still has a slender, fit figure.

  But the look on her face betrays her beauty. The wrinkles around her eyes as she frowns look as deep as canyons.

  “Miss Sinclair, can I see you in the teacher’s lounge, please?”

  Her tone has me concerned. It’s full of anxiety and umbrage—never a good mix.

  “Of course,” I nod.

  Helen disappears back through the gym doors, and I look back to the group of students.

  I can see from the looks on their faces that they caught the same signs as I did. And they look just as concerned as I feel.

  “Alright. Why don’t you guys put those brains of yours to work and think of a badass theme for prom? I’ll be back in a bit and see where you’re at.”

  Leaving the group behind, I make my way toward the staff lounge.

  My mind begins to run through a handful of scenarios.

  I know that this isn’t about me personally. If it was, we’d be meeting in her office and not the staff lounge. Staff lounge meetings are typically for big announcements, and her demeanor tells me this isn’t going to be a good one.

  Which leaves me to believe that one of our co-workers has died.

  So, when I arrive to the staff lounge, I
do a quick head count to see who’s missing. But, after I’m done, I notice that the entire staff is here. Nobody is missing at all.

  Everyone is talking to one another, trying to figure out just what’s going on.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Eric step up beside me.

  He’s dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, which are covered in fresh grass stains, a black tee, and his coach’s jacket. His short dark hair is a mess, which is another indication that he was out on the football field with his team just messing around.

  “Any idea what this is about?” he whispers.

  “Not a fucking clue. You?”

  “If I knew, why would I ask you?”

  His grin makes me laugh, but I give him a punch in the shoulder all the same for being a jackass.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

  The talking among ourselves stops, and we all give Helen our undivided attention.

  Everyone is just as anxious as I am to know what’s going on and what has her so concerned and worried.

  “As you have already probably guessed, I have some bad news to share with all of you. I wish it wasn’t me sharing this, because I wish this wasn’t happening…” The way her voice trails off leaves the hair on the back of my neck stand.

  “I’ve just gotten word this morning that the state is closing down the school.”

  My jaw drops in shock as everyone else begins talking loudly in protest, surprise, and anger.

  I wasn’t expecting this at all.

  At least nobody died. That’s good, right?

  “What the fuck is this?” Eric yells with a swell of frustration.

  “There’s more,” Helen yells above the crowd.

  Everyone hushes and waits.

  Eric and I share a look of mutual frustration and outrage.

  “The school will be merging with Llano High School.”

  Llano!? That’s nearly an hour away!

  “This means, sadly, that half of us will be out of a job by the start of the next school year. Now, I would like to be able to tell you who’s going to have a job and who’s not…but I can’t. The truth is, I don’t know as of yet who is and who isn’t out. Myself included.”

  “This is bullshit, Helen,” Eric yells.