Page 32 of Chaining Daisy
Very improper plans.
* * *
When Daisy finally wakes,I’ve done my morning workout routine, had two cups of coffee, gotten a special delivery, and made breakfast. Shirtless, so my girl can enjoy the view.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I come around the counter to greet Daisy as she shuffles into the kitchen, a warm robe thrown on to cover her up and keep away the morning chill. Even though the weather’s been pleasant during the day lately, nights get down in the thirties or so. She’s rubbing at her eyes and yawning when I reach her.
I plant a kiss on the top of her head and she looks up at me with furrowed brows, a look that could be pain or confusion.
“Need another Tylenol?” I ask softly, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen table so she doesn’t have to climb up onto a counter stool when she’s sore.
“Yes, please,” she blushes as she sits.
I get her medicine, coffee, and the plate of pancakes and eggs I made for her. “Here, eat up. I’m going to go lay out your clothes for the day.”
Her head jerks up at that.
I expected it, so I grin. “It won’t be every day, but some days … Daddy’s going to dress you. Okay?”
She presses her lips together and nods, giving me neither the heated glance nor the sassy retort I was prepared for. Instead her expression droops, resembling the sad melancholy she fell into when Darla passed.
“What is it?” I stop where I am, studying her face, panic rushing through me as my mind races, wondering what I might have done to upset her.
“Is … what we did … it is wrong? Would she—”
I march over, determined to nip this in the bud. I pull out the wooden chair next to her and sit down on it sideways so that I’m facing her instead of the table. Putting a hand gently on the knee that protrudes from her robe, I say, “Daisy. We’re taking care of each other. We’re just two people who are drawn to each other. That’s all.” I trace little circles on her knee, trying to soothe her with touch.
She shakes her head, not quite convinced. “But–”
“You deserve happiness too. Especially after … as far as I’m concerned, the universe owes you like ten years of happiness after everything you went through. She’d want you to be happy, baby. Us to be happy.” My words are soft and gentle, but I hope the truth of them pierces my girl like an arrow. Because Darla would never stand in the way of anything Daisy wanted.
After a moment, a soft admission spills from her lips. “I always wondered, selfishly, why you didn’t ask me out instead.”
“Because how could I ask you to give me a broken heart? You needed to heal first.”
“You didn’t have to marry her for that.” She ducks her head, probably embarrassed of the jealousy that spilled out in her tone. But I love it.
I reach out and take her chin in my hand, lifting her face until our gazes meet. “You also needed more time with her. Marrying her … it made it possible for me to get insurance, ask for favors, get what was needed … buy you that time.”
Tears fill her eyes and she doesn’t even try to bat them away. I wipe them for her with gentle brushes of my thumbs.
“Things work out the way they’re supposed to,” I whisper, before leaning down and giving her a soft kiss.
“I kind of think so too,” she agrees.
I pull her into a hug, not all the way into my lap, but as close as we can get. I hold her until her breathing calms and she pushes lightly on my chest. “Okay. Okay. You’re suffocating me with all your chest hair.”
“You love my chest hair.”
She giggles and it does my heart good to hear it. I know we’ll probably have this same conversation dozens of times because guilt isn’t nice and logical—I’ve struggled with my own over the past year and a half and am well versed in how it can play on an endless loop. But we’ll get through this together.
I stand up, studying her face, ensuring her expression is clear. Then I let my dominant side slip forward. “Now, eat your breakfast, then come to your room.”
“Yes, sir,” she mocks, back to her sassy self. Yeah. She’s good.
“I might go easy on your sore pussy today, honey, but make no mistake, I will still spank your ass.”
She waits until I’m in the hall before calling out after me. “Promises, promises!”
