CLAYTON (Single Dads Club Book 3) Read online

  CLAYTON

  Single Dads Club Book 3

  Candice Blake

  Contents

  1. Clayton

  2. Westley

  3. Clayton

  4. Clayton

  5. Westley

  6. Clayton

  7. Clayton

  8. Westley

  9. Westley

  10. Clayton

  11. Clayton

  12. Clayton

  13. Westley

  14. Westley

  15. Clayton

  16. Westley

  17. Clayton

  18. Westley

  19. Clayton

  20. Westley

  Epilogue

  Exclusive Look

  Also by Candice Blake

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  1

  Clayton

  "I'm tired of you looking at me every morning and asking me why I'm not doing anything," Brayden said.

  Brayden, my seventeen-year-old son was in the passenger seat with both his feet propped up on the dash.

  "You're really not doing anything other than working out and eating all the food in my fridge." I took a deep breath and tried to think of a way my son could understand me better. "I'm just saying you should focus more on school, instead of relying entirely on getting into a good college because of hockey."

  We'd been fighting like this for most of the two-hour journey. Both of us were stressed because the roads to the cottage were particularly bad that day.

  I was pretty calm considering I couldn't see ten feet in front of the car in the storm. We were almost at the cottage anyway, so there wasn't any point in stopping to wait until the storm passed... which could have been hours or days.

  I was born and raised in Canada, so I was used to these flash storms in this part of the province. My truck was built for conditions like this too.

  After a brutal hour through the thick of the storm, we finally arrived.

  It was the annual Single Dads Club cottage get-together and I had invited some of my favorite members, their kids, and even some of their new partners.

  It was going to be my largest Single Dads Club Christmas to date and I wasn't too sure where everyone was going to be sleeping, but we always somehow managed to make it work every year.

  "I can't believe you made me come to this thing with you," Brayden said.

  He was picking away at the callous on the base of his middle finger that was from either playing hockey or working out.

  Brayden was in a particularly bad mood, and that was a good thing, because he was showing an emotion other than apathy for once.

  "I didn't want you to have to stay at home for an entire week," I said. "I also want to see you as much as I can before you leave for college"

  "I don't even know if I've been accepted to any yet, and I won't be going for another nine months." Brayden let out a sigh. "You just want me here because you don't trust I'll be able to stay home alone without burning the house down."

  "You're right, I don't," I said with a slight smile.

  He wasn't amused, nor did he say anything. He just opened the car door and walked right up to the cottage.

  I always wondered if Brayden would be easier to handle if he had a sibling. Maybe he'd feel less lonely if it wasn't just the two of us after my husband died.

  I followed behind my son holding both our duffel bags to bring inside. I left the large cooler of frozen elk meat in my truck, since it was going to be freezing all week anyway. The elk meat was from my last hunting trip a few months ago.

  I was greeted at my place with a warm fire already started in the fireplace. My guests, a group of men ranging from early twenties to mid-fifties gave me a big hug and looked like they were excited for the week ahead.

  I had told my guests about the spare key taped under the bench outside that they could use to let themselves in. I was glad they looked like they were making themselves at home.

  It looked like almost everyone had gotten there before me. Brayden wouldn't get out of bed, which was why I arrived so late.

  "It's nice to see everyone's gotten here safely," I said.

  "Thank you for letting us come to your beautiful cottage and for the support you've shown me in this club," Jesse, one of the younger members, said to me.

  "It's a treat that it's your first time here," I said. "This is an annual tradition, so there will be many more to come."

  I noticed Liam, another member of the club, was with two people. One of them I recognized right away. He was Shawn Carter, a famous NBA player. He was standing next to someone else though, who looked so much like him that I wondered if they were twins.

  Liam's mysterious guest walked up to me as I took off my shoes.

  "Hey, you must be Clayton," he said.

  I was taken aback by how handsome he was.

  While I was trying to formulate a response, Damon, one of the members I knew pretty well, came up to me with a cup of coffee.

  "This is Liam's boyfriend's brother," Damon said quietly to me in his deep voice. "Hope you don't mind me using your coffee maker to make coffee for everyone.

  I thanked him for the coffee and drank almost half of it in two gulps.

  Liam had asked me if he could bring his boyfriend, Shawn, and Shawn's brother.

  I smiled at the handsome man. "You must be Shawn's brother..." I said.

  "Yeah, I'm Westley," he said. "Thanks for having us. This is a lovely place."

  "Thanks," I said. "I was here last weekend getting the place together for this week. It looks like we'll be staying inside a lot. The storm doesn't look like it's going to go away any time soon."

  "I'm glad we drove up before the storm hit," Westley said.

  "Who did you drive up with?"

  "Damon, Liam, my brother, Shawn, and all their kids."

  Westley was a tall, well-built man, with blond hair and a strikingly handsome face.

  I looked at his brother, Shawn, who was standing across the room. "Your brother's a pretty big player in the NBA," I said.

  "Yep," Westley said. "But he's really approachable once you get to know him."

  "I can't wait to get to know both of you this week." I smiled, happy to see all the guests, but I quickly realized I might have invited too many people. "This cottage is big, but we're really going to have to figure out this sleeping situation because there won't be enough beds for all of us."

  "I don't mind," Westley said. "I'm a surgeon, so I'm used to sleeping in weird places, like chairs in break rooms."

  I laughed. "I'm former Navy. I'm used to sleeping in cramped spaces with many guys."

  "Former Navy? For what branch?"

  I took off my coat and dusted some of the snow off the fur hood, then hung it in the closet. My body was warm from sitting in the car for so long.

  "The NTO. Naval Tactical Operations," I said. "You're familiar with it?"

  "My dad served in the Maritime Forces Atlantic back in seventy-eight."

  "Your dad and I would've been serving at the same time then, during the Vietnam War," I said. "Your surname is Carter?"

  "Yes, Carter," he said.

  "The only Carter I knew was the Chief Officer of the Navy. Is your dad Marcus Carter?"

  He smiled. "Small world."

  "I didn't know him too well. We only interacted a handful of times. But he seemed like a great guy."

  No wonder Shawn and Liam looked so familiar when I first saw him. They both kind of looked like their father.

  "Damn, you served in the Navy when my dad did. You're ancient then," Westley said, joking.

  I laughed. I wasn't offended by that joke because I was used to Brayden poking fun at
my age and Westley seemed like a cool guy.

  I was fifty-five and I didn't think I was that old. My seventeen-year-old son was always keeping me on my toes. I still worked out three times a week and played hockey every Wednesday night.

  After I greeted all my guests, I grabbed a bottle of champagne and sat down on the couch next to the brothers, Westley and Shawn. Westley introduced me to his brother and I shook his hand, a bit star-struck that such a famous athlete was sitting next to me.

  The brothers were trying to find something to watch on Netflix.

  "Let's watch that documentary I was watching the other night," Westley said, putting an arm around Shawn.

  I thought it was endearing how Westley and his brother seemed so close.

  "No, that was depressing as hell. We can't put that on," Shawn said.

  "It was about predators in nature, how's that depressing as hell?" Westley asked.

  "Because seals were getting eaten by polar bears. It was sad to watch."

  "That's just called nature. I didn't know you were such a softie."

  "Don't call me that," Shawn said.

  Westley put the show on despite his brother's objection.

  "You know how I feel about seeing animals getting hurt," Shawn said, removing Westley's arm from around him. "Now we're all going to have to watch gazelles getting eaten by lions."

  "It's interesting," Westley said, focused on the screen. "Just watch it." Westley turned to me. "Clay, what do you think of this show?"

  I was opening the champagne and wasn't expecting to have to take a side. "I like nature documentaries. Lion cubs have to eat too. When I think about it that way, killing those gazelles seems justified."

  "I'll just close my eyes and eat this bag of popcorn then," Shawn said.

  Liam joined us and sat next to Shawn, putting his hand on Shawn's lower back. They seemed so in love.

  "Oh, this is a great show," Liam said, unaware of the conversation we were having.

  Shawn groaned, and everyone laughed.

  "You have no business talking about whether a show is good or bad, Shawn. You watch the cheesiest comedies," Westley said.

  "Whatever. I like them," Shawn said.

  Liam kissed Shawn on the cheek. "You always look so goddamn handsome whenever you don't get your way."

  I guessed Shawn was used to getting his way, being such a big basketball star, but seemed a bit embarrassed that he was the only one who didn't like the show.

  For dinner that night, I made elk steaks. I added onions to the cast-iron pan. I seasoned the steaks with fresh parsley, minced garlic, and oregano before I went outside to grill them on the barbecue.

  I checked up on the steaks every few minutes and brushed them with a little honey.

  When they were ready, I plated the steaks, topping them with some truffle oil and sauteed onions. I was really pleased to be serving this to my guests for the first meal. It was a potluck so everyone was making something. I was especially looking forward to what Liam and his boyfriend, Shawn, were making, which was lamb and broccoli, braised very slowly in a big skillet.

  There were nowhere enough tables or chairs, so we had to be creative. Some people sat on the staircase, some sat on the floor around the coffee table. When I looked outside, I saw someone sitting outside alone on the bench by the lake with the sun setting over the trees.

  I grabbed a plate of food and headed outside to join whoever it was. When I got closer, I realized it was Westley. I recognized him by his short dark-brown hair.

  "Mind if I join you?" I asked.

  Westley turned to me and smiled. "Not at all. I don't mean to be anti-social, eating out here alone, but when I saw the sun setting over the lake, I had to come out to see it."

  "I agree, it's beautiful. Rare to get to see the sunset like this in the city."

  "Who made the elk steaks?" he asked, taking another bite.

  "I did. Is it too rare?"

  "No, I like it on the rare side. It's perfect."

  We were acting very comfortably around each other, considering we'd only met hours ago. Nature had a way of bringing people closer together, which was why I liked it so much out here in Muskoka, but it also made me a bit nervous because I wasn't used to the feeling of being comfortable around someone new.

  Westley was handsome, and from briefly talking to him, he seemed like a well-rounded person, being a surgeon and all.

  Watching the sunset with Westley was quite an intimate activity because of the silence between us. I thought about the last time I had watched the sunset with someone. It was with my late husband. It made me sad sometimes thinking about all the great times we shared together. If I could just somehow forget about those beautiful moments, it would be easier.

  "Christmas was my late husband, Ryan's, favorite time of the year," I said, wanting to open up and connect with Westley.

  "Must be bittersweet for you then," Westley said.

  "Even though it's been years since his passing, I've felt like there was something wrong with me for still thinking about him so much. I felt like my demons--the ones that told me I was less of a man without him--never stopped haunting me and I didn't want to deal with those thoughts anymore."

  "Has time healed any of the wounds?"

  "I thought things were getting better. It has been exactly one decade since his passing. The few years right after he died, I worried I was going to lose my mind from missing him so much. All I could do was try to let go and hope for the best. I hope that someday, I will be completely at peace with not having him in my life anymore."

  Westley finished all the food on his plate, and set it down on the grass next to him. He opened the blanket wrapped around him and pulled out a bottle of wine, taking a sip straight from the bottle.

  I wasn't expecting to talk about death with a stranger, but the younger man was a surgeon, so I assumed he was comfortable with talking about it.

  "I'm sorry to hear about your husband. How did he pass?"

  "He... died from AIDS. It was the worst moment of my life when they were treating him as an ICU patient during his final weeks."

  "Modern medicine has really come a long way. The quality of life of people living with HIV or AIDS has really improved from even five years ago."

  "Ryan really hated the stigma attached to the virus. Especially because he contracted it at a really young age. He was raped and he had no control over how contracting the virus would change his life so much. When I met him for the first time, it was one of the first things he told me. I could tell how hard that was for him. After we started dating, I had to cut off many friends and family throughout the years who stigmatized him."

  Westley handed me the bottle of red wine, and I took a sip.

  I realized how freeing it was to talk about my late husband now that so much time had passed, but time had only healed some of the wounds.

  "I treat people who are going through some of the most difficult things in life," Westley said. "And it inspires me to be a better person from seeing how resilient human beings are. Some people really are unbreakable."

  "My husband was a doctor too."

  He nodded, taking a sip of wine, and waited for me to continue, but I wasn't sure how much I wanted to reveal about Ryan to someone I'd just met.

  "What kind of doctor was your husband?"

  "A combat medic. We met in the Navy."

  "Impressive," he said. "It takes a certain type of person to want to be a combat medic, having to witness the traumas of war must be really tough."

  "You must witness a lot of trauma too."

  "In some ways, yes. I've learned how to be mentally strong enough to withstand what I see in the operating room, but it's still incredibly difficult sometimes"

  "So how did you even become a surgeon?" I asked. "Do doctors and surgeons run in your family?"

  "Not particularly, I'm the first one actually. For more than twenty years, my mother's job was to help doctors get through their medical residencies. She was a couns
elor for aspiring doctors who needed her due to the stress of the job. A lot of up-and-coming doctors knew it'd be stressful, but the amount was unexpected and many couldn't handle it. I was inspired by what she did, and I got a glimpse into that world. I got my undergraduate degree in architecture and then went into med school."

  "Those are a lot of impressive accomplishments. Your parents must be proud. But it seems like quite an unconventional path to medical school, starting out with an architecture degree."

  "I get that a lot," I said. "I wasn't exactly a good student, coming out of high school, but I was damn good at drawing, which got me a foot in the door in a good architecture program at the university."

  "That's awesome. My best friend Austin is an architecture professor."

  I looked over at Westley as he drank more wine. He had a slender build, though I could tell he worked out because he looked fit. It was a body type that I used to have until I started weightlifting more to distract myself after my husband's death.

  Westley had short dark-brown hair, that almost looked black. He carried himself with an air of dignity like he was used to having everything under control.

  Westley seemed like such a catch, and I wondered if he was single. I felt my heart race a little.

  "Can I ask you a question?" Westley asked.

  I smiled. "Sure, you don't have to be so formal about it."

  "It's a bit personal though."

  "Go for it."

  Westley took a deep breath. "I've always wondered what happens to someone who loses their spouse... do you think you will ever want to find love again?"

  "You can't find love if you don't search for it, I guess. Having my husband pass away, I don't know why I would want to love again if it means enduring that much heartbreak if something ever happens." I checked Westley's hand to see if he had a ring on. He didn't.