Page 26 of Daddy's Rules

“Okay, okay! I’ll clean it up right now.”

“Uh huh,” he says, observing the floor scattered with my clothes. “Not much there for wearing.”

“I think I was drunk when I packed,” I say, looking around.

“Looks like plenty of tops but no pants.” He finds my eyes. His sparkle with humor. “Didn’t think you’d be needing any?”

I flush. “Owen!”

“Okay, honey, I’ll go get more of your things. You can relax, enjoy some coffee, and do whatever it is you girls do in the morning. Yeah?”

“Thanks, Owen.”

His eyes narrow slightly and pin mine. “It’ll be Daddy or Sir while we’re in this apartment, got me?”

The wave of arousal his words give me makes me hold my breath a moment to savor it. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

My stomach does somersaults at those two little words from his mouth. I’ve lived with too much judgment and ridicule in my life and this is my fresh start. I pull one of the wrinkled tees from the floor and pull it over my head. Sliding on some panties quickly, I pick everything off the floor and stuff it in my suitcase. I sit on it to zip it, shaking my head at how the little bag can be so stuffed and yet still have no bottoms in it.

“I need coffee,” I mumble, heading for the kitchen. The pot is full and ready. It smells like heaven. I open the cupboards in search for a cup when I spy a box of pancake mix. I smile. We need breakfast before we go out, don’t we?

When Owen returns there is a stack of warm fluffy pancakes sitting on a plate on the breakfast bar. His brows rise and he smiles.

“What’s this?” he asks as he sets down one of the duffle bags from my closet.

“Breakfast,” I say with a grin. “Thought we should eat before we leave.”

“I wasn’t aware you could cook,” Owen says, taking a whiff of the perfectly light brown medallions still steaming.

“I can actually. I spent a bit of time with Mary in the kitchen when I was younger.” I’m thoughtful for a moment. “Mostly hiding from Lucinda and Denzi,” I chuckle, but it’s humorless. “I didn’t even use the boxed stuff you had.” I wrinkle my nose. “That stuff is gross by the way. I made these from scratch once I found out you had flour, sugar, and sour milk.”

“Sour milk?” He grimaces. “Those are made from sour milk?” He points and I laugh, feeling better than I have in a while. He comes around the counter to stand next to me.

“Yep, and they’re delicious.”

I grab a flapjack from the pan and flop it on a plate. Taking a fork, I cut off a piece and hold it up to his mouth. “Here. You don’t even need syrup.” One brow arcs and he eyes my wares suspiciously, but opens his mouth. I smile when his eyes flutter closed and he moans appreciatively.

“New rule,” he says through a mouthful. “You make these for me every week.”

“Just once a week?” I say with a giggle as he piles several from the stack onto his plate.

“Yes, otherwise you’ll make me fat.” He pats his hard flat belly and my mouth dries. The sight of it naked is burned into my mind. Smooth, golden, and rippled with a line of silky hair heading south. “That’s not your plan, is it?” He feigns a grumpy look and I shrug so he gives my butt a swat.

Later after we’ve picked out a bedroom set, new mattress and all the trimmings, which I protested profusely over and was told to mind my manners or else, we head out for a late lunch.

“I still think it’s too much, Owen.” I walk beside him enjoying the sun on my face, knowing it won’t last since a storm is headed our way. For once I am out in public without makeup and it feels so good. In jeans, a tee, and one of Owen’s ball caps, I’m pretty sure it won’t matter that I’m plain-faced, I doubt I’ll be recognized.

“Who’s to say I haven’t wanted to turn that spare room into a guest bedroom for a long time?”

“Me!”

“Jordan,” he warns and I breathe out in a huff.

“Fine!” I’m shocked when his hand finds my ass and squeezes, hard. Warmth floods me instantly and my face lowers in embarrassment.

“Is this warning enough? Because there’s an alley right there and I can be clearer.”

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