Back with the Stuntman_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance) Read online

  “Monica,” I called. “Can you look after Shaun while I run an errand? I mean, can you stay overtime tonight, if needed?”

  Monica entered the room, carrying a tray with snacks.

  “Sure. My man won’t be home for another two hours and while I can’t wait to see him, I’ll happily stay a little while longer,” she said with a wink.

  Monica lived on the property in a smaller guest house with two bedrooms and a little garden with a hot tub. After Jen died, she suggested herself that she and her husband be closer and I felt relieved. She would take Shaun to their cottage when I was away on business so she got to sleep in her own bed while looking after him. They were like family to us, and once I got round to finally buying a ranch in the outskirts of L.A., I’d make sure they could choose if they wanted to build a house on that property too. If they preferred a house somewhere else, I’d pay for that instead.

  “Great, thanks, Monica. Shaun, I’ll see you later. I hope to be back for your bedtime story, but don’t be mad at me if I’m not as this is really important. You see, I think there’s a girl like your friend who is very sad right now and your story reminded me that I need to check in on her.”

  “OK, Dad, give her a hug and she will feel better. That’s what I did.”

  I smiled. For children, some things were so simple.

  ***

  A mere ten minutes later, I pulled up my motorbike in Pat’s driveway. Well, it was the driveway both for the chalet and the main house. Thankfully we both lived in the hills, so the way to hers was easy and I was also glad I had her address on a contract, or I wouldn’t know where to go.

  There was a car other than Pat’s Beetle in the driveway and I assumed it belonged to the owners of the main house.

  I took off my helmet, placed it on the steering wheel and walked down the path to the chalet — it really was as picturesque as Pat had described it. A little cottage with a fairytale garden and views over the canyon.

  As I got to the door, I heard voices.

  “Bill, for the love of God, let me go. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. You can’t kidnap me. You’ll regret this in the morning. Stop it!”

  Bill’s reply was a mumble, but from what I heard, the situation required police intervention. I could go inside, but I didn’t know if Bill was armed. Shit!

  Quickly I turned away from the house so that my voice wouldn’t be heard and dialed 911.

  I described the situation to the lady who answered and she promised to send someone straight away, keeping the sirens off so as not to alert the man inside.

  As I hung up I could feel myself sweating profusely. I was scared — scared of what Bill would do to Pat. I strained to hear what was going on, but things had turned quiet. What was he doing to her?

  I realized I could see them if I went to the other side of the house and looked through the windows, so I walked around, careful not to make a noise. As I reached the panoramic windows, I knelt down behind a bush and moved one branch to the side so I could see what was going on.

  Inside, Pat was sitting on the couch, hands tied. Bill was busy putting a gag on her too — apparently, he didn’t like her shouts about leaving her alone earlier.

  I couldn’t see a gun, or any other weapon.

  I felt inside my biking jacket’s pocket and there it was — pepper spray. I always carried it with me as you never know what you’ll run into. Angry dogs on the loose were usually as bad as it would get around here, but I sometimes filmed in locations that were less than savory.

  As Pat tried to move her head away from Bill, he grabbed her harder.

  Something burst within me — I couldn’t stand seeing him manhandle her. I saw one of the sliding glass doors was open and jumped up and rushed into the room, kicking Bill’s knees from the back so he lost his balance. Then I quickly grabbed his arms behind his back and gave him a further push so he fell into a kneeling position.

  “See how that feels, now that you’re the one being held down,” I spat, while Pat looked on with big, frightened eyes. “It’s alright,” I told her. “He can’t harm you now. The police are on their way. Sorry, I can’t remove your gag while I’m holding onto this one.”

  Bill finally seemed to have caught up to what was going on — his alcohol-soaked brain clearly wasn’t moving too fast. Taking him down had been easier than ninety-nine per cent of my stunts and those were choreographed moves.

  “You’re the son of a bitch who slept with this whore.”

  “No,” I corrected. “You’re the one who slept with a whore. I’m the son of a bitch who made love to this woman and who will now make sure you end up behind bars.”

  Just as Bill was about to reply, I heard a noise and looked towards the door — the police. Thank God!

  “Hands in the air. Everyone.”

  I obeyed and they kept their guns firmly pointed at myself and Bill, while one of the officers untied Pat. The other kept his gun pointing at Bill, while speaking into a microphone to report back to the rest of the squad outside.

  “Madam, please tell us who of these men were trying to harm you? We received a 911 about a hostage situation.”

  “Bill,” Pat said with a cough and nodded in his direction.

  “You,” the police officer said and pointed at me, “move away.”

  I did as was told, and they handcuffed Bill and led him outside. Looking at the stunned expression on his face, I gathered he was finally sobering up.

  “Is anyone injured? Paramedics are waiting outside.”

  I looked at Pat and she shook her head.

  “No,” I added. “I think Pat might be in shock though. The man who attacked her is her estranged husband.”

  One of the police officers nodded.

  “The paramedics will look her over and there will be a psychologist at the station.” He turned to Pat. “I’m sorry, Madam, but we will need to get to the station as soon as possible. Are you alright to walk?”

  Pat nodded and let the officer help her up, before leading her outside. Before heading out, she turned to look at me and I could see the gratitude in her eyes. I could also see that she was too tired and shocked to talk, but her eyes said it all. I was so grateful that Shaun had told me a story that made me come here — otherwise, who knew what Bill could have done to her? If nothing else, he could have forced her into the car and driven off the road in a drunken stupor. I shivered. Yes, I was extremely grateful for my son’s big heart and how it’d influenced me.

  Chapter 16

  Pat

  As I sat at the police station after Bill had tried to kidnap me, to say that I felt shocked was an understatement — I was sitting there telling the police that my husband was a kidnapper. If anyone had told me that four months ago, I would have laughed. What I’d realized when speaking to the psychologist though was that the Bill I knew wasn’t the man that had done all this tonight. The man tonight had been drinking for a month straight and, apparently, they’d found traces of antidepressants in his blood that when combined with the alcohol and the meltdown he’d had when I left, had turned him into this version of himself. He’d had a psychosis of sorts.

  The psychologist also made me realize that the initial shock I’d felt when discovering Bill with the prostitute wasn’t so much a shock that he’d slept with her, as a shock that I’d let it go on for as long as I had. I already knew he was cheating. I already knew he was lying to me. Sure, I’d never expect him to bring the cheating to our home, but I’d been aware that he was not honoring our marriage vows, or me as a person.

  The psychologist had rebuilt my faith in myself by asking me what my judgment of Bill had been — a fun loving man who loved women and kept flirting even after we got married and, some years later, started having sex when away on business. If I’d listened to myself, if I’d stopped to actually ask myself what I wanted in a relationship instead of holding onto Bill for dear life, I would have left years ago. And if I’d been around Bill the last few months, I would hav
e seen tonight coming. There was no reason I had to avoid other men because I feared I didn’t know them — I knew Bill, I just chose to ignore his flaws in favor of his good sides, as they were many. I’d thought back then that I couldn’t do better than the fun loving Bill whose jokes made me cry from laughter and whose romantic side always floored me. But I could do better — I could have a man that was all that, and who also took the relationship seriously. I could have someone like Jeff.

  As I left the police station, I felt lighter than I had in months.

  When I came home, thanks to Uber, I took a deep breath before entering my chalet. I was scared of how I’d feel — would I fear someone else would invade my home? If I did, the psychologist told me I could call. But all I felt was relief. This was my home. And Bill was in prison where he’d receive both the help and the punishment that he deserved. Hopefully he’d walk away from all of this a better person once he’d had some time to think things through while serving his term, but that was his choice. He could also use this as an excuse to run his life to the ground. It really was his choice. I hoped that the man I once fell in love with was still there and that he’d one day ask my forgiveness, but again, that was his choice. Mine was to live my life as I wanted to. And I wanted to act, teach, be with Jeff and have a family. I wanted to live in Laurel Canyon where I belonged and wake up to a life that felt like my own in the mornings.

  Exhausted, but also feeling liberated, I got out of my clothes and into my PJs. In the morning I’d have to figure out a way to thank Jeff, but for now I needed to sleep.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke up to the sound of birdsong and with a wonderful idea inside my mind — I was going to apologize to and thank Jeff in the most spectacular way. Jeff had always loved my cooking back in the day and judging from our recent dates, he still loved food, he just hadn’t had any of mine of late.

  My idea was pretty simple: get Monica to let me into the house before he got home and bring along the ingredients to cook an out of this world three-course meal.

  I looked up to the ceiling, trying to think. There was the issue with Jeff possibly still being fuming mad at me. He had rescued me the night before, but why he’d showed up in the first place I didn’t know. Possibly to have me sign papers saying I’d no longer be acting in his series if it went ahead. But I’d like to think he’d shown up to talk — if it was just paperwork, he could have mailed it, or had his lawyers deal with it.

  Pleased with that conclusion, I got out of bed. Now I just had to decide what to cook and get hold of Monica. I knew he loved chocolate, so the desert would be a triple layer chocolate cake, covered in chocolate ganache. But the starter and the main? I wasn’t too sure. Seafood maybe?

  As I got dressed, I decided to head down to Raspberry to chat with Jillian about it. I needed her culinary genius.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, following a mad rush of shopping at Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, as well as studying my lines, I was ushered into Monica and her husband’s cottage.

  “Thanks, Monica, I really appreciate this.”

  “Don’t thank me — I saw how he looked at you. Hasn’t looked that way at any woman since Shaun’s mother died. And, you know, she was a wonderful woman, but she had so many problems. You seem a lot healthier and Jeff deserves to be happy, truly happy, with someone who knows how to look after themselves and can also spoil him from time to time.”

  I smiled. Apparently, I’d not been paying enough attention to how Jeff looked at me. I shook my head. Once again: the clues were right there, if only I had bothered to look. People aren’t such big mysteries after all. And Jeff didn’t bail when I had my emotional ups and downs. That in and of itself proved that he cared enough to stick around. Maybe he cared too much actually, I pondered, thinking about his ex. He needed to learn to look after himself first, just as I needed to learn to look after myself first. Well, we could help each other with that.

  Monica gave me a quick tour of the kitchen to show me everything I needed, including where to find the china and candles to set the table with. Then she left me to my own devices, saying I probably had about two hours till Jeff got home — he’d promised to tuck in Shaun tonight and he was good with his word.

  ***

  Exactly two hours later, I took out two soufflés from the oven for our starter. They needed time to “rest” as Julia Child repeatedly told me in her instructions that I had watched on YouTube many times over the years while making soufflés, but I figured Jeff was going to tuck in Shaun first.

  The main was a nice linguine, with pan fried shrimps. As both the fresh linguine and shrimps took about two minutes to cook, I just prepared the salad and gotten the rest of the ingredients ready for when we’ll have finished the starter.

  I set the table and put a chandelier in the middle. I dimmed the lights in the cottage and lit the candles as I waited.

  Suddenly I heard voices.

  “Seriously Jeff, this leak seemed to have sprung out of nowhere. I have called a plumber, as I said, but I really think you should have a look at it tonight.”

  Then they opened the door and Jeff stepped inside, as Monica shut the door behind him, winking at me.

  “What…” Jeff started.

  “Surprise,” I said. “I wanted to do something for you for rescuing me last night and I know I was horrible the last days on set, I was just going through so much of inner turmoil. I’m not always like that, you know. I mean, you do know. You know me. You’ve known me for twenty years, but the past few months have been…challenging. And I was really stupid, and just so scared after what happened with Bill and the new career and then he showed up on set and… I’m babbling. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” I stopped my ramble, tears in my eyes and finally looked up to meet Jeff’s eye.

  He smiled.

  “I’m sorry, too. I should have called earlier. I knew you were hurting.”

  I shook my head.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I really acted like an idiot that last night in the bar. If Peter had touched me up, it would have been one thing to slap him, but he only touched my hand. I messaged him and a bunch of other people to apologize.”

  “I know. I heard today from the director. And there’s good news.”

  “You mean that I have prepared a three-course meal? Because that is good news.” I was joking. The relief of finally having spoken from the heart was making me giddy.

  “That is very good news, but the other good news is that the trailer for the pilot was sent to Amazon yesterday and they were really keen to see more. No safe bets yet, but still.”

  Jeff beamed at me and I beamed back. I was frankly too happy to speak anymore. And apparently, so was Jeff as he took three long strides towards me and then swept me up in his embrace.

  As held me, I felt my body melting. I could finally relax. Feeling his firm body against mine, I felt safe. I also felt warm and tingly inside from the care I felt emanating from him.

  “Mmm,” Jeff mumbled. “I’ve missed this.”

  “Me, too.”

  “We should do it more often. Shaun thinks hugs are what make people happy when they’re sad.”

  “I think he might be right,” I said with a giggle.

  “You know what also makes me happy?” Jeff asked.

  “No, what?”

  “This,” he said and kissed me.

  As I felt his lips on mine, my knees started feeling wobbly. The tenderness and intensity of his kisses were unlike any I’d experienced before. Slowly his hands started caressing my body and, again, I could feel the care. It turned me on, because it made me feel wanted on a whole other level.

  As the ache in my body intensified, so did our kisses.

  “Oh Jeff, I was meant to serve you dinner,” I protested as one of his hands reached between my thighs.

  “Can’t dinner wait ten more minutes?” Jeff asked.

  I was tempted to say yes, as I felt his hard on rub against m
e. I wanted him. I wanted him so bad I wanted to scream. I also kind of liked the idea of waiting with sex, of dragging it out over dinner.

  “Are you willing to risk the soufflé going flat?” I asked. Back in the day, Jeff had always loved my soufflé.

  “Is this the kind of soufflé you used to make back in the day?”