Page 53 of Daddy's Rules

“And that’s exactly what I’ve been looking for, you know. Because I like taking care of those that I care about. It makes me feel important, knowing that I’m providing the structure and nurturing that helps someone else thrive.”

“Right.” Her voice is little and sad, and I don’t know what I want to do first: turn her over my knee and spank some sense into her, or gather her up in my arms and kiss her senseless.

I shrug. “Some people think it’s wrong to have someone to care for,” I say. “Some say I’m a control freak and need to loosen up.”

“And some,” she whispers, “say it’s wrong to need structure and accountability. To depend on someone.”

I take a step closer to her. “And I don’t care what the hell ‘some’ people say.” We’re so close I can see into the depths of her beautiful eyes. I read sadness and hope and longing. Jordan’s coming home with me.

“Me either,” she says. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I clear my throat. “She needs a name,” I say, pointing to the little fluff ball. “And some stuff for walks, some toys, and since she’s little, maybe something for walks on cooler nights.”

Jordan breaks eye contact and goes to the display, chattering on about recommendations and suggestions.

“These are fantastic,” I say, seriously impressed with the assortment.

Jordan flushes. “I made them myself.”

I let out a low whistle. “Impressive. I saw the interview. I’m incredibly proud of you, Jordan.”

“I did it, Owen.” Her eyes are round and her smile wide. “I did something good, no, something great! And it had nothing to do with my dad’s influence or money. It was all me.”

“I never doubted you,” I say and reach for her, my heart mush in my chest over the woman I love finally seeing the worth in herself I’ve seen all along. I touch her cheek. She leans into my hand a moment.

“But honey, you have a helluva lot of new credit cards.” I reach into my jacket and pull out a stack of bills. “These will screw up your inheritance.” She straightens, her brows knitting tightly.

“What are you talking about?” She grabs the envelopes in my hand. “I don’t have any new cards.” Her eyes flit back up to mine and she swallows. “And since you punished me after Riley’s party, I haven’t touched my old ones.”

My own brows draw together a moment before my eyes widen. “The break-in.”

She lets out a breath. “You think someone stole my identity?” She absently scratches the puppy’s head. “There were papers scattered everywhere.” She rips open the bills and stares, her mouth slightly agape.

“Hang on. I gotta call and cancel these.” Her face is determined but what I notice most is she’s confident and not asking me what she should do. My Jordan has truly grown in our time apart. She pauses by the door that says ‘employees only’ and turns back to me.

“Hope,” she blurts out. I look at her in surprise. It’s a weird response.

“Hope?” I repeat.

“Hope,” she says, smiling at the little dog in my arms. “We’ll call her Hope.” Her voice drops. “Can we go somewhere after and talk?” She looks at her cell. “My boss will be here in half an hour.”

I only nod. My heart feels sluggish in my chest. Maybe she thinks she doesn’t need me anymore.

She smiles brightly then and my heart kicks back into its regular rhythm. “Look around, Daddy. Puppies need a lot of stuff. And whatever you do, don’t choose anything resembling something you don’t want chewed up at home.”

Again, I nod, watching her head off to the back room. She’s gone for about fifteen minutes, which is enough time for me to load a basket with more dog stuff than ten puppies need.

“I had to go to the top and even then they’d only freeze the cards until an investigator can call me on Monday,” she announces, walking back into the store. At first I don’t notice what’s in her arms because I’m staring at her face.

“Yeah?” I smile. Confidence glows on her face.

“Yeah.” She looks at me with her head turned slightly. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Confidence suits you,” I say softly, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss the hell out of her. She grins. It’s still innocent and sweet—still Jordan.

“So now, we can talk about us,” she announces.

“Us,” I repeat, suddenly noticing the tiny Yorkie in her arms. But before I can say anything she speaks.

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