Page 27 of Gideon

“Not exactly stealthy though, using his own name. You’re not telling me he doesn’t have access to someone that can set him up with a false ID.”

“True,” Max said, “but some people like to hide in plain sight. They also have no idea we have a connection with Kirkman Junior. Eric made sure you’re not on cameras anywhere.”

I sighed. “Now maybe, but I picked her up from work and I made a large donation to the animal shelter Abby volunteers at. She’s been to the club. It wouldn’t be hard to find out who I was.”

“Animal shelter, huh?” Dion repeated. “She got a friend that needs a Daddy?”

I smiled because, yeah, I knew we all wanted the same thing. “I need to keep her safe. And what do I do if I have to leave her?” The thought of her being on her own made me feel nauseous.

“I think that’s two jobs,” Max said. “We can easily secure the property, but we need someone who can stay in the house with her.”

I nodded but I didn’t have any ideas. None of them had so much as a mom figure. “Keep me updated and let me know if you need anything from me.”

I hung up and looked at the time. Abby had slept for just over an hour and she needed something to eat. We needed to talk about our relationship some more.And set rules.

“Abby?” I opened the blackout blinds and let light into the room. I’d left a low lamp on, as Littles often didn’t like sleeping in the dark, and brushed a kiss on her cheek as she opened her eyes, and they focused on me. Then she smiled and I couldn’t help cupping her soft cheek. “How about you go potty, then come into the kitchen with me so we can talk?”

Her smile vanished like someone had turned the light out. What had I said? Was she regretting our two-week trial already? “T-talk?”

That’s what worried her? It was almost like I’d said I was going to chain her to a St. Andrew’s cross. “I just want to know more about you.” No report told you everything. “For example, I need to know if there’s anything you don’t like to eat. I’m sure you have questions for me too.” Looking a little happier, I moved so she could sit up. I took her hand, helped her into one of my shirts, which I adored, and made sure she was steady on her feet before I let her go to the bathroom on her own. I managed to stay out until I heard her start to wash her hands. I grabbed the towel but, ratherthan passing it over, I dried her hands myself. She flushed a little, but I could see a small smile trying to peek out. It was clear Abby wasn’t used to any care and that was going to change.

I lowered my head and took her lips in a slow, leisurely kiss until she sagged against me. Drawing back, but keeping her steady until she was balanced, I kissed her forehead. “You were delicious earlier, and I find myself wanting another quick snack, and not the sort I would find in my fridge.” She blushed prettily, then when I let go, glanced around and saw the pink bag I’d brought from her apartment and pounced on it, taking out her toothbrush and paste because I’d gathered that was important to her. I could do that for her as well, but maybe not today, so I waited until she was done because I wanted her to get used to me. “Good girl,” I murmured when she’d finished and, taking her by the hand, I led her to the kitchen.

“You have a beautiful home.”

I looked at the fridge as we entered and smiled. “It’s a little sterile. A little empty,” I acknowledged. “For example, that fridge would look so much better with some pictures you’d colored for me on it.”

Abby brightened, and I steered her to the small breakfast table in the nook. I had a huge dining room I never used, but I had a feeling Abby would be happier here. I went to the drawer on the end and pulled out the brand-new coloring book with puppies in it, and a small pack of colored pencils. I wasn’t sure if she preferred crayons, so I got those out as well, and settled them all down in front of her. She grabbed them eagerly, then looked up. “I could make us some sandwiches.”

I opened my mouth, a horrified dismissal on my lips at the thought of Abby anywhere near a knife, but managed to stop the words before they escaped. “Nope, this is my job.” I opened the fridge. The meal service had filled it with containers, and I rifled through them, looking for something a little simpler than Coq-au-Vin or snails. Must be their French week. “What sort of things do you like in sandwiches?” I asked conversationally.

“Anything, really. Peanut butter’s good. I try to have salad or veggies too.” She wrinkled her nose. “But not mushy ones, and not green ones.”

I turned. “But most salad and veggies are green.” She stuck her bottom lip out in an adorable pout.

“Carrots are orange.”

I pulled out the salad drawer.No carrots.I could really use Margaret… I inhaled quickly at that idea. It was perfect. Margaret could prepare food and keep Abby company if I had to go out. Getting them a dedicated driver and bodyguard was simple enough. We stuck with employing ex-servicemen wherever we could, and I knew Dion would have a list of vetted names.

But none of that solved the problem of lunch.

I opened another cupboard. “Do you like mushroom soup?” Abby glanced up and wrinkled her nose. I wanted to kiss it. “Tomato?” She brightened. Tomato it was, then. I had fruit and bread and quickly got to work. I wanted to feed her but soup in a dish was tricky, so I contented myself with sitting next to her. I very carefully didn’t bring anything up about schedules or punishments until Abby ate, but the more I didn’t talk, the less she ate. Her head was down, and her shoulders were hunched.

This was ridiculous. I was making mistake after mistake with her, and I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I was trying to tread as lightly as I could…

And then I had my second revelation. I knew Abby didn’t like choices. The doc had bluntly told me she expected bad things to happen. And I got that. My own dad had been crap, but at least I hadn’t been in nine different foster homes in fifteen years. It was no wonder she expected everything to be temporary, and between getting fired and losing her apartment, she’d suffered a lot of stress.

Maybe I should stick with my instincts and simply spend the next two weeks acting like the Daddy I wanted to be? I stood and walked over to the cupboard, getting out a new sippy cup, rinsing it, then walking back. As Abby watched in astonishment, I poured the soup into it and sat back down. “You’re too far away.” Gently, I slid my hands under her cute bottom and lifted her onto my lap. “From now on, this is where you eat your meals.”

I handed her the sippy cup. The soup had cooled enough it wouldn’t burn, and then I broke off a small piece of bread. She reached out, but I shook my head. “Open up, baby girl.”

A delightful flush stained Abby’s cheeks and she opened her mouth for the bread, chewed, swallowed, then had a mouthful of soup. She finished the soup but not much bread, but that was okay. I was already planning her afternoon snack.

We didn’t get very far with talking. In fact, trying to get any information out of her was like trying to get blood out of the proverbial stone. I didn’t understand why she seemed so reluctant, and apart from certain foods which she admitted to disliking, she seemed happy to agree with anything I suggested.

I got that she was probably nervous, and we were both brand new, so I didn’t push, just made her drink all her water. “Is your tummy full?” Not that I was in any hurry to move.

“Yes, Daddy,” Abby murmured, and I brushed a kiss on her head.

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