Page 37 of Off-Limits Daddy
I turned just in time to see a dolly stacked too high with folding chairs tip sideways. One chair slipped loose, skidding fast, headed straight for Ari’s legs.
Instinct took over.
I reached out, caught him around the waist, and pulled him flush against me as the chair clanged across the pavement, missing us by inches.
“Jesus,” he breathed, hands braced on my chest. “That thing almost took me out.”
“You good?”
He nodded, still breathless.
My arm stayed around him.
Too long.
I should’ve let go.
But he was warm and solid against me, heart racing beneath my hand. His curls brushed my jaw when he looked up, eyes wide, mouth soft. And he didn’t move away. Just... stayed there.
Like he belonged.
God, I wanted to keep him right there. Hold him. Take him home. Teach him what it meant to be agood boy.
Behind us, the volunteer who’d been steering the dolly muttered a curse and scrambled to right it, chairs clattering ashe tried to restack them. He didn’t even glance our way, too busy with the mess he’d made.
I pulled my arms away from Ari’s waist before I could forget how and took a step back.
He didn’t move right away. Just blinked up at me, cheeks flushed, lips parted like he wanted to say something—something real.
Instead, he gave a breathless laugh. “Guess I’m lucky you were nearby.” His voice was a little rougher than usual. Then came the teasing twist to his mouth. “Very heroic. Should I swoon now, or...?”
I didn’t get the chance to answer.
“Reid! Ari!” Mrs. Evans’ voice rang out from the next booth. “Don’t you two look adorable—stand still, I need a picture for the newsletter!”
Hell.
Ari didn’t miss a beat. He hooked an arm around my waist, hand landing right at my hip like he’dbeenthere a hundred times before.
“Smile,” he said sweetly. “Be a good example, Reid.”
My hand curled automatically around his shoulder. And it wasn’t for Mrs. Evans or the stupid newsletter or the festival or the town—it was for him. For that satisfied little gleam in his eyes when I touched him, like he already knew how easy I’d fall if I let myself.
Ari leaned in just enough to make it look good for the picture—his arm draped around my waist, his fingers flirting with the edge of my belt loop like it wasn’t a big deal. Just two guys being... photogenic. For the town newsletter. In broad daylight.
The camera shutter clicked.
Mrs. Evans gave us a satisfied “Perfect!” then turned to flag down someone near the bake sale booth, already on to her next task.
“Everything alright over here?”
It was Gemma, her voice bright and cheerful—oblivious to the fact that I was still catching my breath, half hard, and holding onto Ari like letting go wasn’t an option.
I cleared my throat and stepped back, letting my hand fall away. Ari stayed close enough that his shoulder brushed mine.
Gemma raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She just held out a paper plate stacked high with fresh cinnamon buns, the frosting already melting in the heat. “Peace offering,” she said. “For surviving rogue furniture.”
Ari brightened. “You’re an angel.”
