Page 15 of Daddy's Heart

She picked up her plate and took it the garbage can, scraping off the rest of her eggs and half eaten toast. He took it from her when she tried to get to the sink.

“You, maybe…uh…want to join me?”

“At the book fest?” he asked with raised brows.

“Yeah.”

“Sure.” His gaze roamed over her. “I’ll finish this. You go get some sunscreen on. You’re already red from yesterday. Just ’cause it’s not as hot, the sun is still out there.”

She raised her chin.

“I’ll be fine. I have my sweater.”

“That knit thing?” He gestured with his chin. “Sunscreen, Samantha.”

He didn’t do it on purpose. He seemed almost as surprised as she was after he said it. But he’d put on that authority filter, like she shouldn’t argue. She wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

“Go on.” He pointed to the door.

She pinched her lips together, deciding not to fight with him over sunscreen. He wasn’t wrong, and she didn’t want to ruin the morning. If he got too uppity, she’d put him back down, but he could have this little round.

As she made her way to the bathroom to get the sunscreen, warmth spread through her belly.

It had been so long since anyone had invoked that feeling inside her, maybe she’d let him get away with it so she could enjoy it.

For the moment anyway.

Because it would never be anything more than that.

A moment.

Chapter 7

Ryder followed Samantha through the crowd toward the Mystery Writers of America tent. They had been at the literary festival for an hour already, and she’d bought five books. He’d only gotten a little snark from her when he’d insisted on carrying them for her.

Seeing her blush so prettily over breakfast when she realized what he’d seen the night before had thrown a gallon of kerosene on the fire already starting to ignite. He’d been honest. It had been a long time since a woman had called him Daddy—and he’d been waiting a long time for it to happen again. With Samantha, it had come naturally. But she’d been asleep. She hadn’t known it was him.

Just knowing she liked the same thing, enjoyed the same kink, made ignoring her beauty and mind even harder as they walked through the fest. She visited every tent, no matter what genre of work was being presented. She asked the author’s questions and listened to everything they had to say with open interest.

“Another one?” Ryder laughed when she came back to him carrying another novel.

“It’s set here in Chicago.” She flipped open the hardcover to show the author’s signature. “He wanted to sign it for me.”

“Keep it safe then,” Ryder said, taking the book from her and adding it to the pile. “It’s getting pretty hot now. Let’s find some water.”

“I’m fine.” She shrugged and pointed to the next tent. “Graphic novels. I love graphic novels.” Her eyes flashed brightly.

“Okay, but first, water.” He looked down the street for a vendor and frowned. There didn’t seem to be any food tents. “I think there’s a gas station on the corner.”

“I’m going to the tent,” she said and walked off.

“Samantha,” he called firmly. She paused, keeping her back to him. Her hands fisted, her back straightened, but she didn’t heed the warning in his tone. Instead, she took purposeful steps away until she reached the tent she aimed for.

His jaw clenched. She wasn’t his to command or chastise. If she wanted to walk away from him, she had that right. He had no claim over her.

With an internal growl, he followed her to the tent and waited for her to finish conversing with the artist and author of the novels. The longer he watched her smile and laugh, the harder it became to remind himself she was completely off limits.

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