Page 6 of Their Perfect Daddy

Sure enough, Danny’s eyes remain on me the whole time. He doesn’t even blink as I strip my upper body bare.

“That’s better,” I say with a sigh.

He nods slowly muttering,“Yeah, it is.”

CHAPTER 2

DANNY

When I got hired to work with Micah, I thought the job was going to be fun. I figured we’d work together to plan some cool parties and maybe I’d meet some fun people along the way.

I had no clue my boss would turn into my best friend. Nor did I realize he was related to one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen.

Monty Tempest is basically the epitome of my vision board future husband. He’s taller than me, but not too tall. His muscles have muscles, and his golden skin gives him a permanently sun-kissed glow I want to taste.

He’s also lean enough to not hurt me when he bumps up against me—unlike his friends who have cinder blocks for hands.

Since when do high fives hurt?

I ignore my aching palm because I’m having the time of my life. This party is so much fun, and being close to Monty is a treat. I’m soaking up every second of it.

Part of me feels bad for leaving Micah behind. Then again, he’s been in a daze since the game. Something, or maybesomeone, caught his eye. I know my friend well enough to see the difference in him.

Besides, he isn’t one to change plans last minute. Accepting the party invite is not his usual answer.

I suspect he’s hoping to see his mystery man here. Or maybe he already has, and I’m too caught up in my own crush to notice. It’s highly likely.

“You still with us, Dan?” One of the guys from the team taunts. The nickname is annoying. Even so, I won’t dare say it aloud. They don’t seem like the type to take criticism well.

I nod slowly, the alcohol in my system making me dizzy with the easy movement. “I’ve got this one.”

Tossing the sack, I watch as everything moves in slow motion. One of the other guys tries to intercept it, but they slip on a wet patch and go down hard.

Our group goes silent as we wait to see if he’s ok. The minute he gives the thumb up and stands, I cheer because he didn’t manage to block my shot. Somehow, by the grace of the universe, the bag went through the hole.

No shot for me. Ha! Take that evil liquor gods.

There’s a snicker beside me. Monty shakes his head, making me realize I must have verbalized my smack talk.

Whoopsies.

“Last round,” Monty announces to the group. “I’m being a terrible host hanging with only you lot.”

The words come out slurred. I might be a bit tipsy, but it seems Monty is nearly gone with it. He manages to stay upright. Must be from all that football coordination he has.

I admire his upper body as the next guy on our team goes. His shirt has been off since the first round when he got doused with water. I’ve never been more thankful for a wet t-shirt in my life.

His body is magnificent. It reminds me of all the heartthrobs I used to hang on my bedroom walls during my teenage years. Back then, I told my friends and family it was because I wasinto sports. While that’s true to an extent, it was always an appreciation for their physiques as well as their talent that did me in.

Being up close to Monty is like taking a foodie to a fancy buffet. I want to touch and taste everything I’m seeing.

Ok, so maybe that’s a terrible analogy.Sue me.The guy makes me stupid.

“My eyes are up here,” his abs whisper.

No, wait. Not his abs.

Monty is whispering.

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