Page 32 of Lacey's Daddy
“But you were interested in me, too, weren’t you, sweet girl?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. “I really want to be your Little girl.”
“You have no idea how good that sounds, Baby girl. Like I hit the lottery.”
“What if you get tired of me?”
“It will never happen, Lacey. But you don’t have to take my word for it. You’ll find out over time.” He helps me into the harness and cinches it tight. His eyes are dancing as he stands. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
When he gives a slight tug, pulling me closer to him, I moan.
He chuckles as he bends over to kiss my neck. “I might keep this harness on you all the time.”
“I might like that,” I murmur.
Chapter Eleven
“Wow…” I whisper as I step into Daddy’s house. “It’s so pretty.”
He laughs. “No one has ever called my house pretty before.” He bends down to remove the leash from my harness before rounding to tip my head back with fingers on my chin. “You may explore, Little one, but I have rules I expect you to obey.”
I swallow. “Okay, Daddy.” My body reacts oddly to his declaration. The flutters return. I like his rules.
“No opening the door to the front or the backyard without permission. No running in the house. No climbing onto anything except to sit on a chair or the sofa. No touching anything dangerous in the kitchen—stove, oven, knives…”
I scrunch my face at that last one. “I’ve been using knives and fire for ten years, Daddy.” I do it every day to cook for my father.
“And now you won’t. Littles on the island live by a different set of rules for safety. You’ll be playing in a very young headspace all the time, and it’s not safe to do grownup things in that mindset. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Just like when we were at Noah’s apartment, no standing in the playpen or your crib. There are monitors in every room. I canalways see you even if I’m not with you. If you need me, I will come.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Good girl.” He kisses me on the nose. “Why don’t you go check out your nursery while I get that giant pile of books from the golf cart.”
I giggle. “They let me check out twice as many books as are allowed by using your name and mine.”
“I know. I heard you negotiating with the librarian, sweet girl.”
“After I look around, can I read?” I’m anxious to dive into a book. It’s been a while since I last held a paperback in my hands, smelled it, devoured it, lost myself in it.
“First a bottle, then a nap. After your nap you may read.”
I’m slightly disappointed, but I throw my arms around his body and hug him. “Thank you, Daddy.”
While he heads back out to the golf cart, I turn around and dash toward the hallway.
“Lacey,” he calls out, his tone harsh, “no running.”
I slow my stride. Oops.
“What is that?” I ask Daddy that evening when he carries me into the kitchen and stops in front of the refrigerator. There’s a large chart of some sort attached to the door by magnets.
“It’s a sticker chart.”
