Page 23 of A Daddy for Christmas 2: Kitt

“That’s what I’m saying. Why? Are you one?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m real little, but...maybe…? I’m not sure.”

“How decisive of you.”

I blew out a breath and glared at him. “Well, I don’t have any interest in diapers and bottles, or any of that stuff. And I don’t play with toys. But I-I do like the idea of having a Daddy to help me take care of things. And of him taking care of me. My friend Jack said I might be a Middle, like him.”

“Have you ever had a Daddy?” he asked, his voice tight and a little abrupt.

“No. Not really.”

“It’s the ‘not really’ part of that statement I need to know more about.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know, so tell me. Do you, or don’t you?”

“No. The man the detective saw me with in Atlanta was my friend’s Daddy. He was just helping me out. I think he felt sorry for me.”

“Uh huh. Okay.”

“Really—I’m telling the truth. But I think it would be nice to have one. Someone to care about me. To take care of me and be there for me. Like a Daddy is supposed to.”

“A Daddy is not a father, Kitt. Not really. Surely you know that.”

“Well, yes.”

“For example, if I were your Daddy, I’d take care of you, but I wouldn’t have fatherly feelings for you. Not at all.”

“Oh? How would you feel? What would you do to me?”

“I think you know what I’d do.”

“Spank me?”

He laughed a little and shook his head. “Only if you were bad. So yeah, I probably would.”

“Would you make love to me?”

He cleared his throat and glanced over at me. “Look, this is an entirely inappropriate conversation.”

“But I like it.”

He made a sound like he was choking a little, and I leaned over to put my hand on his leg to see if he was all right. He jumped like I’d poked him. “Stay over there and stop talking.”

“I’m sorry, but I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Just give me a couple of minutes.”

We drove on for another half mile or so, and I turned to look at him. “My brother doesn’t really want me back, you know. I’m wondering why he even sent you after me.”

“Your brother cares about you, Kitt.”

“No, he doesn’t. I’m just a pain in the ass to him. He’s told me so a lot of times. My father freaked out when he heard about me being in that club and wanted me gone. Jazz did too.”

“What did the detective see you doing?”

“Nothing really. I was just sitting on the Daddy’s lap. He was feeding me a piece of cake and some milk. It was funny. It didn’t mean anything.”

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