Page 40 of Don't Call Me Daddy
She pulls the towel off her head, letting her long, wet hair fall down her back, and begins dabbing the ends. “If that’s what you need me to do, then I’ll be ready.”
My mouth goes dry as I watch a small drop of water slide down her collarbone over her sun-kissed skin. I have to fight the urge to trace its path. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s got my body responding like I’ve never been with a woman, and it’s fucking with me in more ways than one.
Get your shit together, man. She’s nearly the same age as your family cat, for fuck’s sake.
“That’d be great. It’s pretty casual, but she’ll probably want to take pictures, so maybe wear something nice. Do you have nice clothes or just overalls and cutoff jean shorts?” It’s a serious question, but it comes out a little sharper than I intended. Rather than get into a verbal battle, I just pull out my credit card and hand it to her. “Here, just get yourself some nice dresses and outfits to wear. There’s a boutique downtown that should have everything you need.”
“Well, since you’re so eager to take care of me, I could always use some new clothes …”
I pull the card back just before she grabs it. “Please don’t do anything to embarrass me. It’s a small town, and you’re bound to have eyes on you now that word about us is out.”
She pops a hip and narrows her eyes. “And how do you think I’d do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know … but I don’t think it’s bold to assume you can figure it out.”
Biting her lip to hold back a cheeky grin, she stands on her tiptoes and swipes the card from me. “Yes, Daddy.”
Fucking hell. I guess I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Without another word, I head to my office and slam the door behind me, putting as much distance as possible between us. I’m not saying I can’t be trusted, but when she’s walking around, freshly showered and smelling like a fallen angel, in nothing more than a hand towel … a man can only expect so much self-control.
Ten minutes later, I check the security monitors and see her leaving, her little beat-up car driving down the driveway, and it’s only when I know I’m alone that I let out a deep exhale. I pull my aching cock from my sweatpants and begin stroking myself right there at my desk, thinking about all the things I wish I could do to my bratty fake fiancée.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ivy
I toss my shopping bags in the booth seat across from me and check the time on my phone. It’s only just after lunch, and I feel like I’ve already walked ten miles.
The choice was simple since the only restaurant on the small downtown square was oddly named Restaurant. I still chuckle every time I see these hilariously precise business names. Nineties grunge music plays over the speakers of the edgy bar and grill as people file in and out. It’s by no means packed, but considering the size of the town, I’m surprised to see it’s this busy.
Like most of the architecture here, Restaurant is a sort of gothic-esque Victorian-style building with black beams that span across the massive ceiling. It feels old and elaborate and cozy, all at the same time.
Ashford Falls certainly has its charm. From the quaint little shops to the eccentric people who are in everyone’s business, to the pristine landscaping, to the Victorian architecture. Everything here is beautiful and has an edge of something I can’tquite put my finger on. Almost like they preserved the darkness as a memory of what once was, and I like that. I can’t help but think how beautiful it would be in the fall.
Of course, I’ll be long gone before then, on to check off the next item on Fern’s list. I might live by the seat of my pants in all other areas of my life, but settling down at the ripe age of twenty-two is definitely not an option—that’s for damn sure.
I pull the worn paper from my pocket and read it once again—not that these words aren’t branded into my memory by now. It’s good to have the reminder of what I’m really doing here, especially considering my current situation and all the distractions that come with him.
Seriously, how is anyone that richandhot? Like, he’s playing on a whole other level. He sent me, a practical stranger, on a shopping spree with his credit card. Who does that? And not only is he gorgeous, but I fear I’m going to develop carpal tunnel in my wrist from having to distract myself from tiptoeing into his room, pretending I’m lost.
Then, there’s the whole alpha, grumpy thing he’s got going on. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve always hated being told what to do, hated any form of authority really. Hence the reason I’m sitting in this cute, spooky town in the mountains instead of finishing my college coursework. I’ve never responded well to criticism; in fact, I think I’m more sensitive to it than most. So, why do my panties get wet when he goes all Daddy on me, bossing me around?
There’s something about his laser-sharp tone, all masculine and domineering, and his unyielding determination to keep his walls up that excites me. It’s like I’ve gone my whole life searching for a worthy opponent, and I just met my match. All I can think about is shaking up his tidy, planned-out life until he finally breaks open and releases his armor of control.
Nothing like being told I can’t have something only to make me want it more. I swear I’m the poster child for dysfunction.
I shake my head and laugh.
It’s a dumb game I’m playing—I know that—but at the same time, I love the rush I get, seeing his nostrils flare and his jaw clench when I tease him. The man is one stressful event away from exploding, and that’s coming from his doctor’s mouth, not just mine.
Leo Kingsley needs to relax and stop taking life so seriously, and lucky for him, he’s fake engaged to the queen of avoiding problems.
If I’ve learned anything in my short twenty-two years, it’s that as much as we think we are in control of our lives, we’re not. There’s no planning, mental preparation, or secret stash of money that will save you if it’s your time to go and sometimes, you just get dealt a crappy hand. So, why waste the precious moments we have, thinking we’re the ones in control? I’ve felt pain and loss deeper than I could’ve ever imagined, so things like work, money, and the other minor details of life don’t stress me out anymore, and I’ll be damned if something as insignificant as a job makes me feel miserable. Maybe that’s why Fern placed this uptight, grumpy man in my path. Because I’m growing more and more convinced by the day that she somehow orchestrated this whole thing.
Change someone’s life for the better.
If only I could get through to Leo to show him another way of living, how he doesn’t have to be so miserable all the time … how life’s pleasures are meant to be enjoyed …
