Page 29 of Daddy's Rules

Chapter Eight

Owen

The hushed sound of movement in the kitchen wakes me. I yawn and stretch slowly. Rolling over to look at the clock, I blink and then blink again. Next to the clock is a steaming cup of coffee and a plate with something on it. I sit up and take the cup, breathing in the fragrant smell of Italian roast. I take a sip and smile. I could get used to this.

Looking at the plate, my smile widens. A fresh blueberry muffin is on it. I reach over and grab it, taking a bite. It’s still warm, the blueberries bursting sweet and tart. I swallow.

“Jordan?”

Her footsteps approach the room, and she stands in the doorway. She looks a bit bashful, biting her lip. “You like the muffin?”

“This is one hell of a wake-up, baby girl,” I tell her. “And I don’t think I’ve ever had a better muffin in my life.”

It’s been a few weeks since she moved in with me, and the girl is thriving. She’s taking good care of Beast and to my surprise, the mutt’s kind of growing on me. He’s always at the door wagging his tail when we come home, and I feel a little safer when I’m away and Jordan’s home knowing that she’s not alone, even if the dog is only big enough to bite an ankle. I set down very clear rules for her, and she’s thriving under them. I’ve had to take her across my knee a few times but it hasn’t been for a while now and hell, I like it. And I love seeing her thrive under my guidance. She gets to bed at a reasonable hour. Drives safely and stays within her budget. She’s taken on more responsibility at the shelter she volunteers for and is looking for a paying job as well. Except for hugs, cuddles, and those few spankings, I haven’t touched her at all. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it. Just about the only thing that gets her tipped over my knee these days is her penchant for getting mouthy and that adorable little pout that will always get her spanked. But the past few days she’s been reserved and I’m not exactly sure why.

Maybe she’s getting it from me. I’ve been distracted myself. Messaging with Karl Benton, the officer on her break-in case, has me a bit preoccupied. They still haven’t gotten any leads, but Benton seems confident the letters and the break-in aren’t connected after all, and since the letters date back a decade and nothing’s come of them as of yet, he’s not concerned for her safety. And while that’s mostly a relief, my gut isn’t completely convinced.

I rub my chin and call myself out on my overprotectiveness. My clients had received millions of letters over the years and it was rare anything ever came of them, and when it did, it was mostly just lovesick, slightly unbalanced, but harmless fans who were easily dissuaded by restraining orders.

“Owen?” My name from her lips brings me back to the moment. My baby is flushing. “You’re joking. They can’t be the best you’ve ever had.” I shake my head. “Nope. Not joking at all.” I crook a finger at her, my voice still groggy with sleep. “C’mere.” Jordan’s wearing leggings and a t-shirt, but has a sensible green apron tied around her waist. I don’t notice until she’s right in front of me that her nose is dotted with flour. Smiling, I wipe the flour off her nose with the pad of my thumb. She sits on the edge of the bed. ”Thought you’d sleep all morning,” she says.

“You’ve been quiet, little one. Have you been waiting to tell me something?”

“Maybe.” She swallows hard.

“Young lady, you know omission is the same as lying in my books, yeah?”

“I know. I’m not hiding anything.” She looks down to her hands in her lap. “I was just waiting to ask you something.”

“Oh?” I’m intrigued. “Tell Daddy what you want.” I pat my lap and she looks at it only a second before she rises and finds her spot. I love having her in my lap even if it tests my willpower.

“Do I have to call you Santa now?” She snickers and I give her a peck on the cheek.

“You are trying to fatten me up and now I know why.” My brow quirks up. “You’ve got a thing for Kris Kringle.”

“Daddy! Be serious!”

“Hey, you started this.”

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry.” She draws a breath. “You know my friend Riley?”

I take a sip of coffee and nod. I’d met Riley a few times when I’ve dropped Jordan off at work.

“Well, it’s her birthday party tonight. A bunch of girls are going out to celebrate.”

“Are you going?”

Her brow rises.

“Jordan, you know you don’t have to ask me for permission to go out with your friends, right? You just need to be safe. No going anywhere alone. Don’t drink too much. Be responsible. Simple stuff.” My jaw tightens at the thought of the letters again, but I force myself to relax.

I reach up and fold my fingers into her hair, turning her to face me. “No going anywhere alone. Don’t drink too much. Be responsible and safe,” I reiterate, slower this time, pinning her eyes sternly with mine.

“Of course, Daddy,” she replies earnestly. “I’ve been working so hard to be your good girl, keeping to my budget and being responsible. I don’t want to blow it. I want to make sure I can afford to go.”

I release her hair and let my palm slide down its silkiness. Her little purr of pleasure makes my gut tighten.

“You have been working hard, baby. And I think you deserve to splurge a little.” I give her a sharp look and repeat my last two words, letting my hand fall to the top of her bottom. I give it a gentle pat.

---