Page 13 of Daddy's Heart

“It’s fine. He’s nice.” And handsome. And has a protective streak that could get on her nerves if he ramped it up some, but she wasn’t letting her brother know any of that.

“Okay, well, if he starts—”

“Not talking about this with you. I have to get some food, then I’m heading to the literature festival today. I’ll call you in a few days, Paul.”

Another heavy sigh. “Fine. If I don’t hear from you by Wednesday, I’m calling you—then George, and possibly the police.”

She laughed. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, kid.”

She hung up and pocketed the phone. Unplugging the hot iron, she made sure it was on her heat protected storage bag to cool, then finished applying her makeup. She’d put on a floral romper earlier but grabbed a light sweater in case the breeze picked up and her shoulders got cold while she wandered the festival.

Samantha left the safety of the guest room and went to the kitchen to get breakfast.

Ryder stood over the stove with a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other, plating up scrambled eggs.

“I made enough for two, you hungry?” he asked, giving her a quick glance.

“Uh…sure. Thanks.” She walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water she’d bought the day before.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the kitchen table.

She draped her sweater over the back of the chair and sat down as he placed the plate of scrambled eggs and a piece of toast in front of her.

“I have strawberries if you’d like,” he said, pointing to the fridge.

“No thanks. This is perfect.” She pulled her phone out and put it on the table, swiping it to life. The festival was already starting.

“Have a good night last night?” he asked, taking the seat across from her.

She paused. “Yeah.” She fought off the heat rising up her neck. A brief image struck her.

Ryder.

He’d woken her up.

No—he’d tried to wake her up.

The heat spread, and a heavy burning sensation dragged her heart down several inches as the memory came back to her. She’d fallen asleep on the couch.

He’d carried her.

She dropped her fork, the clanging echoing in her ears.

She’d called him Daddy.

Her gaze flashed to his face, then back to her plate.

“Samantha?” His casual, warm tone made her cheeks hotter, made her stomach twist harder.

“I—oh. I fell asleep on the couch.” She touched her fingertips to her lips.

He nodded, the same laid-back air still around him. “Yeah.”

“You—you carried me to bed?”

“I did.” He laughed. “You sleep pretty hard.”

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