Daddy's Home by A. K. Alexander

you’d like to spend the day, well by all means come along. You can watch a master chef in action.”
    “I should say,” Holly replied. “Your dinner tonight was delicious.”
    “Indeed. Well, lovely ladies, it seems to be passing our bedtimes, Madeline, yours, and mine.”
    “Good night, Brendan,” Chloe said.
    As they said goodnight, Holly thought how amazing it was that the day could start on such a rotten note and end so perfectly.
    Once in the car, Chloe asked, “Do you think my daddy would want you to be Brendan’s girlfriend?”
    “Wow, Chloe, I don’t know. But don’t worry about it. Brendan and I are just friends.”
    “Will you tell me about my daddy again? Can I see the pictures when we get home?”
    “Oh, sweetie, it’s late, and we’re tired. Let’s go home, have a nice cup of peppermint tea, and climb in bed, okay?” Chloe nodded. “Good.” Holly reached over and smoothed down Chloe’s hair. They drove in silence for the five-minute trip, Holly lost in thought.
    Chloe had just reiterated the same questions that Holly was struggling with. With the mere mention of Jack, memories and moments flooded her mind, and the evening she’d spent with Brendan went from perfect into a guilty blur. Ridiculous , she told herself. Jack was gone. She should move on. Once Chloe was asleep, no matter how tired she felt, Holly knew she’d have to type up an e-mail and send it to the one person who might be able to guide her through this situation. The one person who would have insight and advice.
    Yes, she would write to him later on tonight or early in the morning with hopes of finding guidance on her issues with Brendan.
    And maybe he would be able to guide her with her case, as well.

CHAPTER NINE
    Brendan held the downward dog pose, reflecting on the evening and how so much had transpired in less than two hours. Meg had taken a liking to Holly, and that was unbelievable; that kid disliked all adults since her mother took off three years earlier, only to make an occasional appearance when she felt like it. And here Brendan once thought tradition dictated that it was men who had mid-life crises.
    The yoga instructor on the home video told him to breathe deeply in difficult situations, and he contorted into positions that he never thought he could do until he started this practice. What a laugh—an Irish Catholic meditating, breathing, and contorting. Okay, at least he’d been baptized as a baby and gone through the requisite catechism as a child, but Brendan hadn’t been inside a Catholic church since Maddie was blessed. What would the priest say now? He took in a deep breath, but no amount of oxygen intake and release could clear his mind the way it should have. He was still very wound up and even confused.
    Holly Jennings had that effect on him. She was the entire package—brains, beauty, a gentle being—and well, Brendan was a man. He had noticed, as he was sure that all men had, that Holly Jennings maintained one serious kick-ass body. Yes, sir, Holly was the real deal, and when Brendan first laid eyes on her at an open house down at the school, he’d had one of those moments. When he thought about it now, he referred to it as a spiritual thing. Light had shone above her glossy dark hair, and when those hazel eyes had met his . . . bam! He knew he’d looked into the eyes of his soul mate. That sounded ridiculous to him, such a damn cliché, but if there were any truth to that saying, then he’d found it in her. It was more than simple lust.
    Funny that he now thought like that, because he never would have until recently. That soul mate stuff was pretty funky as far as he was concerned. Hell, his ex-wife left him for her supposed “soul mate.” Brendan had spent a couple of years lifting weights, taking St. John’s Wort at the pleading of his sister, and reading everything that Dr. Wayne Dyer ever wrote, another thing his sister insisted he do to get him over . . . What was her name now? Oh,