Page 3 of Daddy's Naughty List

And that broke my heart.

Time held no meaning right now, as Stefan and I spoke. We had more drinks, laughed, and told silly stories mixed in with serious ones. And it all felt so comfortable and right. And that should have scared me, but no red flags rose, so I justrolled with it and enjoyed my time with him.

I laughed at a story Stefan told about how he lost his first job. It was filled with disaster and embarrassment, and I’m sure he brought it up to make me feel better about what happened to me outside earlier.

“Needless to say, I quit the next day,” he finished with a chuckle.

I laughed again, my cheeks flushed and hot from the vodka. I swirled the last of my drink in my glass just as we were told the bar was closing soon.

The bar hummed with quiet energy, the place where secrets could be shared without the fear of being overheard. I swirled the last of my whiskey sour in my glass, the ice clinking softly as I turned my attention to Stefan.

My gaze caught on the chain around his neck, the medallion resting against the dark fabric of his shirt he had on beneath the Santa coat. It was intricate and delicate, almost out ofplace on someone like him, who was gritty, rough-edged, and commanding.

“So, what’s up with that?” I asked, nodding toward the Santa suit.

“I dress up every year and volunteer at a youth facility.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “It’s a charity for kids—especially the ones who’ve had it rough.”

I blinked, surprised. “You volunteer? With kids?”

He nodded, almost shrugging it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “That so hard to believe?”

I shook my head fast, hoping I hadn’t offended him. “No! I?—”

His smile put me at ease. “Kidding. I didn’t exactly have a childhood that anyone would envy, so… I get them. I can connect with them.”

I noticed the way he ran his fingers over his square-cut glass. Was this uncomfortable for him? I was about to tell him we didn’t have to talk about it, but he started speaking again.

“I know what it’s like to grow up feeling like the odds are stacked against you. Like no one has your back, and you’re unwanted.” He shrugged again and glanced over at me. “That no one is there to guide you… and that no one believes in you.” Stefan looked down at his red-and-white jacket and smoothed his hands over the velvety fabric. “This is my way of giving back and hoping that I can be there for at least one kid. I want them to know someone out there wants them to be happy and actually gives a shit.”

My heart squeezed at his words, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. “That’s… incredible, Stefan. You’re a great man.”

“I don’t know about all that, but thanks for being a sweetheart.” He gave me a wink. “But it’s not something I talk about much,” he admitted, his fingers still toying with the glass. “It’s not about me. It’s about them. Especially around the holidays. I know how tough this time of year can be for kidswho have so little. So, volunteering with the program gives me a chance to make things a little brighter for them.”

I felt my chest tighten even more when I thought about him giving his time to kids who probably looked up at him like he was their hero.

“I bring a big, red bag of presents and let them vent to me. It’s their way of telling me what they want, I guess. I just… listen.”

This man, who clearly carried so much weight on his shoulders—who was larger than life and a little intimidating—spent his time helping children.

“Why don’t you like to talk about it with people?” I asked softly, leaning toward him.

He shrugged those broad shoulders of his, his dark eyes locking with mine. “I don’t do it for recognition or appreciation. I do it because someone needs to. And if I can make one kid feel like they matter, nothing else matters.”

His raw honesty, the way I heard it deep in his voice, made my heart ache. I reached out without thinking, letting my fingers brush against the back of his hand. “What you’re doing is incredible. You didn’t just survive your childhood. You turned it into something good. That’s not something everyone can do.” I felt myself staring at his mouth—his lips full and a little glossy from the liquor he’d been drinking.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to throw myself into the moment and let the vodka lower my inhibitions and the protective wall I always had around myself. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned back and felt my face heat.

His lips twitched into a faint smile, one that sent a jolt through me. “You’re really fucking beautiful.”

I forced myself to look at him then and willed my face to cool.

He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze softer now, almost vulnerable. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips tomine. It was soft and gentle, but God… it set me on fire, and I immediately grew wet.

Stefan pulled back, and I tried to catch my breath. He brushed a strand of my hair away from my cheek, and I almost wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole at my body’s embarrassing overreaction to such a small, intimate gesture.

His smile lingered for a second before fading, replaced by that same unreadable expression. “You’re easy to talk to, you know that?”

I suddenly became shy and glanced down, murmuring, “I feel the same with you.”

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