Bad Daddy by Jayda Marx

 

Chapter One

Colt

 

“Fucking finally,” I grumbled when the drain plug popped out of the engine and black liquid dripped into the drain pan. I thought that changing this car’s oil would be the simplest part of my day, but so far it had been a pain in my ass.

Whoever worked on this car last time did a piss poor job; they completely stripped the plug, which I fought with for half an hour before finally busting it off with a hammer, crescent wrench, and brute force. The car owner wouldn’t be thrilled when I tacked on the cost of a new drain plug, but I didn’t do this shit for free.

I worked hard at the garage, often putting in twelve hours a day of manual labor with no breaks. It was more than I could say for my boss John; he sat on his ass all day and raked in the money while I worked my fingers to the bone.

I would have quit a long time ago, but my job options were limited. I spent nearly half of my life in federal prison, and not many places were jumping at the chance to hire a felon; especially one convicted of attempted murder. I was grateful to John for giving me the opportunity even if he was an ass.

And honestly, I loved my line of work. Fixing cars had always been a passion of mine, and it came easily to me. I had a mechanical, task-driven mind and took pride in problem solving.

Car knowledge was the one good thing I got from my old man. I worked alongside him when I was young and soaked up everything he taught me. Tuning up old junkers was how we bonded and built a decent relationship.

And then everything came crashing down when he caught me kissing Aaron, the boy next door when I was seventeen. He refused to accept a gay son and kicked me out, so I picked myself up and started a life with Aaron. If only I'd known what a shit show that would turn out to be.

I jerked when something pulled me from my thoughts and scared the shit out of me by touching my ankle, which peeked out from under the vehicle. My body lurched forward on instinct and I slammed my face into the car’s undercarriage.

“Motherfucker!” I yelled, pulling my earbuds (which were blaring heavy metal) from my ears. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that shit when I’m under a car?” I rolled the creeper out from beneath the vehicle, thinking I’d find my boss hovering over me. Instead, a beautiful young man was staring down at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” he offered, putting his hands up in front of his slender body. “I didn't mean to scare you. I was yelling from the doorway but I didn’t think you heard me.”

He must have come into the work bay because the front desk was abandoned, and I wasn't surprised; John's son Buck was supposed to man the counter and talk to customers, since he couldn't do anything else right, but he had his father's work ethic and disappeared often.

I sat upright and the young man gasped. "You're bleeding!" I touched my aching forehead which I smacked on the underbelly of the car and pulled back shiny red fingers. "Oh god, this is my fault."

He tucked his hand into the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt and reached out towards my face, but I leaned away from him. "Don't touch me." I didn't want to stain his cream-colored shirt with blood and grease.

He pulled his hand back quickly and looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. I caused you to get hurt and you're right to be angry. I'll leave."

Dammit. I had a way of coming across as a cranky son of a bitch even when I wasn't trying to be. Now this gorgeous young man looked like a poor kicked puppy.

He kept his head hanging as he turned towards the exit, but he halted in his tracks when I said, "Stop."

I stood up and wiped the rest of the blood from my brows before smearing it onto my jeans, and then stepped in front of the man. He was several inches shorter than my six foot two, and slimmer than my broad frame.

"Look at me," I requested, and he snapped his head up to lock gazes with me. He followed commands like a goddamn dream, which sent naughty thoughts of ordering him to his knees rushing to my brain, and my blood rushing to my dick.

There was nothing I could do about the blood situation, but I pushed away my thoughts; I could tell from one look that this boy wasn't the rough and tumble kind of guy I usually hooked up with, who wanted a firm hand and a hard fuck. This little beauty radiated sweetness and innocence - two things I knew nothing about.

"I'm not mad," I told him with what I hoped was a reassuring voice. "It was an accident. But you need to be careful when people are working under cars like that. Someone really could've gotten hurt."

"Yes, Sir."

Fuck, the name sounded perfect from his pouty lips. I bet Daddy would sound even better. I pushed that thought away too. It would cause nothing but trouble.

"What's your name?" I asked before I said something stupid.

"Westin," he replied with a stunning smile, complete with matching dimples on each side. Westin held out his hand and I wiped mine on my jeans again before shaking.

"I'm Colt."

"Wow, you've got really strong hands."

Oh, the things these hands could do to you, pup. I dropped my grip and pushed that thought away too. This boy had no idea of the way he affected me, and I wasn't sure why he was affecting me this way.

Sure, he was gorgeous with his creamy fair skin, dimples, sparkling brown eyes and thick, dark auburn hair. Sure, his natural submission lit my blood on fire. And sure, I was lonely. It had been months since my last hook up and nearly two fucking decades since I had a connection with someone. Okay, maybe it wasn't a mystery after all.

But it didn't matter. Even though this boy was hungrily inspecting the bumps of my muscles through my tight t-shirt and practically drooling over the tattoos running up both of my arms, he didn't know me or what I was. If he heard my story, he'd run out of here as fast as he could. As he should.

Back to business. "What brings you in today?"

"I think there's something wrong with my car. Well, I know there's something wrong with it, but I don't know what it is. I don't know anything about cars, but something definitely isn't right."

It wasn't much to go on, so I asked, "Was it handling strangely or making noises?"

Westin nodded. "On the drive over here, it was shaking like-" he positioned his hands like they were on a steering wheel and jerked his upper body so hard that his hair bounced into his face. "And it sounded like reeereeer-guh-guh-guh and then it died about two blocks away. I walked the rest of the way here."

Holy. Hell. This boy was fucking adorable. For once I was glad that Buck was lazy so that I got the chance to speak to Westin.

"Hmm, that's definitely not normal," I teased, but Westin just nodded seriously. "I'm running a little behind on an oil change that's due to be picked up soon. Let me finish it and then I'll come take a look at your car."

"Thank you so much. Is it okay if I go to the dairy bar next door to get a sandwich while I wait? I forgot to eat lunch."

I swallowed hard. He was pure temptation wrapped up in a sexy little package. Everything about him called to me; his looks, the way he asked for permission, and how he begged for guidance and care without having to say a word. It was obvious that this sweet pup needed a Daddy.

Before I could stop myself, I asked, "Does that happen a lot?" I should’ve kept my mouth shut; as much as he needed a Daddy, he needed someone better than me.

Westin nodded. "I work from home and sometimes I get so busy that I forget."

I wanted to hear all about him, including his work, but I had my own job to get back to. Not before I passed on some Daddy wisdom, though. I couldn’t stop it.

"You have to eat, Westin. No matter how important your job is, it's not more important than your health. Promise me that you'll start taking better care of yourself." I was in no position to ask anything of him, but I couldn't help myself.

"I'll try," he replied with another nod, and I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm going to need better than that." God, I sound like a raging dick. It came from a good place, though; protection was hardwired into me, even if I was a bit pushy about it.

"But I don't want to promise in case I forget again."

Goddamn, this boy is made of pure sugar. I should've left him alone, but I didn't. "You should set alarms on your phone as reminders."

Westin's eyes brightened. "That's a good idea; I'll do that. Thanks, Colt."

I couldn't help but smile at the adorable boy. "You got it. Now, go next door and get something to eat. I should be done by the time you get back."

Westin beamed, seeming happy for the advice and the push. "Okay!" He spun around and took a few steps towards the exit before turning back around to face me. "Would you like anything?"

I blinked at him. No one ever showed me much kindness. People were often afraid of me or tried to avoid pissing me off, but that was much different than Westin's sweet offer. It's because he doesn't know who you are; what you've done.

"It's my treat," he added before I could say anything. "It's the least I can do to thank you for squeezing me into your schedule."

I blinked again before managing to spit out, "No, I'm fine." He nodded and turned around again. He was halfway to the door before I remembered my damn manners (it had been a while since I used them) and added, "But thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied with a wave over his head before disappearing.

I let out a deep breath before sitting back down onto the creeper and lying flat. I rolled myself under the Buick, hoping to wrap up the oil change quickly and see the precious boy again. Fuck, I'm in trouble.