Page 48 of The Claiming Series: Collection 1
“It’s bar work, not guarding the holy grail, forGod’s sake! The only references I needed were the eyes in my head and my good judgment,” Dad replies firmly.
“So, you hired the woman on the strength of a quick chat and no formal references,” I sum up.
Dad glowers at me. “Well, excuse me for not putting her through the Drayton Tactical Interview Technique, but I’ve spent almost sixty years on this earth, and I like to think I’m a pretty damned good judge of character. It’s not like she’s a complete stranger. Like I said, she grew up here.”
“Just trying to look out for you, Pa,” I point out.
“I know, Son, and I appreciate that, but I’d much rather you look out for yourself for once. I think you’ve earned that right.”
I laugh bitterly. “Have I? Maybe you should tell that to the men in my unit. Oh, wait, you can’t. They’re dead.”
“But you’re not, and they wouldn’t want you crawling into the grave with them,” Dad fires right back, unwilling to let me wallow in self-pity.
I lost all of my unit in an ambush in Yemen, along with a chunk of my right leg. I also lost a piece of myself that day that I don’t think I’ll ever get back.
I rub a weary hand over my face. “Sorry. Some days are worse than others.”
“Never apologize to me for protecting your country, Son. No father could be prouder than I am,” he says gruffly.
“Hey, Danny. Sorry, I’m late,” a soft voice says from behind me.
I turn to face the door, and my world comes screeching to a halt as my gaze collides with a pair of beautiful honey-brown eyes. The newcomer pulls off her woolly hat and unwraps the scarf from around her neck, her blonde curls spilling down her back in a riot of gold.
She looks to be in her early twenties, her skin flawless with a cute smattering of freckles across her nose. Her lips are plump and red, and I wonder if they’re naturally that color or if the cold weather has given them their rosy glow. Flakes of snow are melting on her flushed cheeks and eyelashes, and I’m hit by an overwhelming desire to lick those specks of water from her smooth skin.
“No worries, Daisy. Did you walk?” Dad asks with a frown.
Daisy?Thisis Daisy Jenkins? Holy shit, she’sgrown into a fucking knockout. Perfection wrapped up in a curvy package.
“My legs are more reliable than my car in this weather,” Daisy replies with a wry smile, unzipping her padded jacket as she makes her way behind the bar. The sleeve of her sweater rides up a little as she pulls it off, and my eyes narrow on the red marks circling her wrist.
As if sensing my gaze, her honey-brown eyes fly to mine, and she quickly yanks her sleeve back down.
What the fuck? Is someone hurting her? The thought makes my blood boil and puts me in a bad mood. Okay, evenmoreof a bad mood.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask, more gruffly than I intended.
Daisy looks at me warily. “Um, with what?”
“The car,” I elaborate, softening my voice. She looks nervous, like one sudden move, and she’ll dart away.
Her expression clears. “Oh! Battery died. Plus, she’s old and temperamental. She doesn’t like the cold weather.”
“She?”
Daisy laughs softly, and my cock twitches behind the seam of my pants. “I’m one of those weirdos who names their car. My little Chevy is called Henrietta.”
“Interesting choice of name,” I observe, utterly captivated by this beauty.
Not as interesting as the massive boner pitching a tent in my pants.
It’s been a long time since my cock got hard for a woman. Even then, it wasn’t the instant reaction this woman has brought about with only the sound of her laughter.
“It was my great-grandmother’s name,” Daisy explains, hanging her coat on the hook on the back of the door.
My eyes take in her pretty face framed by its tumble of golden curls. She looks like an angelic cherub. “So, tell me. Are you planning to steal from my dad, too?”
Chapter Three
