Page 14 of Teasing

“I’m just saying... I know how old you are, and you’re never going to be too old to come home if you need to. You’ll understand one day.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I watch Rosie dance in a circle around Dad. “Pretty sure I understand that now.” I offer Mom my coffee, which she happily accepts. She never says no to coffee. “I should probably go save Dad before she convinces him to buy her a pony.”

Mom bites her lip, attempting and failing to hide her smile. “She may have mentioned that when we got here. She thought Butterfly would like a friend.”

“No,” I stop her before she gets any ideas, because Eleanor Kingston hates to tell my daughter no even more than she hates to be told no herself. Wonder where Rosie gets that from... “Butters is all the pet we need. Some days, I almost forget to feed her. I mean it, Mom. No ponies.”

I push through the back door and try to crash the tea party before Dad can give in.

“It’s not like it would live here,” Mom bargains as she follows me outside. “We’d board it at the stables by our house.”

What the hell?

She’s already given this thought?

“No—”

“Maverick—” she tries giving me her scary mom voice, but that shit stopped working on me when I was ten and figured out I could blame just about anything on Ryker and get away with it.

“Nope. No ponies,” I warn her again as we cross the yard, fairly certain she’s going to ignore me anyway.

Butters jumps out of Dad’s lap when I stop next to the giant purple blanket covered in butterflies that’s spread out in the grass and shake my head at the two co-conspirators in front of me.

Rosie and Dad both stop talking immediately, and my daughter giggles and covers her mouth.

She thinks she’s being sly.

She’s not.

She’s already gotten to him.

Damn it.

I lift my brow and stare at both of them.

Two peas in a pod.

Sebastian Beneventi was one of the best football players to ever set foot on a field. Strong, physical, and fierce, he scared the shit out of every offensive lineman who was ever dumb enough to square up against him. And I’m pretty sure he’s being manipulated by a five-year-old. A cute one who adores him—but still being manipulated. The best part is I’m also absolutely positive he’s loving every minute of it.

“What are you two up to?” I exaggerate my words, drawing them out like a detective from one of Rosie’s cartoons.

“We’re having a tea party, Daddy.” She holds a pink plastic cup up to Mom. “Want some, Mimi?”

I shake my head as Mom sits down, beaming. “Of course I do.”

This kid... My whole heart is sitting right there on that purple blanket.

She’s the purest thing I’ve ever done and the only thing I’ll ever love like this.

And I still wonder every single day how I got lucky enough to be her father.

Dad stretches his legs out and pushes himself up with a wicked grin as he nods toward Emmie’s yard. It only takes a moment for me to follow his gaze and see what he’s looking at.

Or better yet, who.

Emmie Monroe likes to be outside.

In the weeks since we’ve moved in, I’ve noticed she does everything she can outside. Reading, gardening, yoga, painting... she does it all outside in these damn flowy sundresses that look pure and innocent and have no business looking as sexy as they do. But on her, holy shit, do they make my mouth water. I’m pretty sure she could wear a sheet, and she’d look like a goddess. Especially if it was my sheet.

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