Page 94 of Off-Limits Daddy
“You’ll see.”
He adjusted his grip slightly, nudging me to a stop. “Okay,” he said, breath tickling my ear. “You can look.” He untied the blindfold with slow fingers, easing the fabric away like he was unwrapping something sacred.
Cool air kissed my face. My eyes adjusted—and then my breath caught like it had no interest in leaving my lungs.
There it was.
Parked dead center in the back lot, gleaming under the overhead lights like something from a dream, was a bright orange Chevelle. Racing stripes ran down the middle like it was built to fly. Chrome glinted. The body gleamed. A huge ribbon, cherry-red and dramatic as hell, sat on the hood like a crown.
It looked like freedom and every childhood dream I thought I’d buried. Like something that belonged in a memory I never got to have, but somehow, here it was, waiting for me anyway.
My legs gave a little. Daddy’s hand stayed at my waist.
The firehouse crew leaned nearby, trying—and mostly failing—to look casual. Marco
grinned, arms crossed over his chest, like he’d been dying to see my face when
I saw it. Griff shot Daddy a quick thumbs-up, then winked at me. Boone’s arms were folded, smug as hell, like he'd known exactly how this moment would land and was damn proud of it.
Sage stood off to the side. Smug. Proud. Maybe a little teary, too, but I wasn’t about to call him out.
Daddy’s mouth brushed my neck, just below my ear. My body lit up like a fuse had been struck.
“You once said it was your dream,” he said softly. “Couldn’t let you keep waiting for it.”
I didn’t trust my voice.
Didn’t trust my knees either, to be honest.
I moved forward on shaky legs, fingertips grazing the hood like I wasn’t sure it was real. The paint was smooth, warm from the engine. My palm flattened, and something in my chest cracked wide open.
Daddy’s footsteps followed mine. “She’s yours,” he said. “Built her for you. Sage helped.”
Sage snorted. “By helped, he means I did all the hard stuff while he got sentimental over the paint job. But yeah. You’re welcome.”
I still hadn’t said a word.
Didn’t know how to. My throat was tight. Vision blurry.
This car was the dream I used to have before everything went sideways. Before my dad left.
For a long time, I thought I'd buried that dream. Swore I’d never drive, never want to.
But I’d worked for this. Worked hard. Took every lesson Daddy gave me like it was sacred. And just last week, I got my license.
And now this.
I turned, walked straight back to Daddy, and launched myself at him. Arms locked around his neck. He caught me, let out a surprised grunt and stumbled a half-step before anchoring me close.
“You’re impossible,” I mumbled into his shoulder.
His laugh shook against my chest. “You love it.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him. “I love you.”
Then I kissed him.
And when the firehouse crew whooped and clapped and someone wolf-whistled—probably Marco—I kissed him again.
