Page 42 of The Captain's Little Girl

CHAPTER15

Days inched by with no word. Cricket dragged herself to work each night and volunteered to cover other people’s shifts when they were sick or busy. Staying busy kept Cricket’s mind away from worrying about Mark. She found herself checking the phone less and less.

The police supervision in the Harbor parking lot ended after several days without any incidents. Cricket stopped looking around for the angry soldier who had scared her. It looked like he’d decided to make better decisions.

After a busy night at the bar and grill, Cricket couldn’t wait to get home. She clocked out and called her goodbyes to the last few employees cleaning their workspace. “See you all soon!”

“Want me to walk you to your car, Cricket?” the bartender asked.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks!” Cricket headed for the door as she let her long hair down from the ponytail she’d worn for work.

“See you tomorrow!” he called.

“Tomorrow!” Cricket answered with a wave.

Cricket didn’t remember if she worked tomorrow or not. She’d check at home. Home. Funny, she hadn’t stayed at her apartment for days. It definitely wasn’t where she wanted to be. Her daddy might be peeved to see most of her clothes intermingled with his in the bedroom.

No, he won’t.Cricket instinctively knew that Mark wanted her there.

Pulling into the driveway, Cricket stared at the dark house. Mark always had a light on a timer to come on in the evening. Why isn’t it on? She hesitated for a few seconds before convincing herself that the lightbulb had blown. Cricket got out of the car and walked up to the front door. It was cracked open about a half inch. Immediately, she stopped in her tracks.

Even in this safe area, Cricket knew better than to walk in if someone was there. Whirling, she raced back to her car and jumped in. Cricket started the car and watched the door open. A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. She threw the car into reverse and hit the gas.

“Baby girl!”

Mark’s voice made her slam on the brakes. She threw the door open and started to jump out, but the car rolled backward. Frantic to get to him, Cricket took a second to shift into park and pull the emergency brake before dashing out the door and running to him.

“Daddy!”

Mark caught her as she jumped into his arms and hugged him close. He squeezed her until she squeaked involuntarily. Cricket rested her head on his broad shoulder and mentally sent her thanks to whoever had brought him home.

After a few seconds of quiet celebration, Mark demanded, “Look at me, little girl.”

Cricket raised her head to follow his directions. Mark swooped in to kiss her deeply. He buried his hand in her hair and pulled slightly. The small taste of pain made her gasp against his lips as heat gathered between her legs. His slightest touch affected her more than her previous boyfriends ever had during the entire course of their relationships.

When he lifted his head, she searched his face to make sure he was okay. Scratches marred his face and neck. She raised a hand to cup his cheek. “You’re hurt.”

“Just a few scrapes, baby girl. I’m fine,” he reassured her before turning his head to press a kiss against her palm.

He walked to her still running car and placed her gently on the hood. “Sit here, baby.”

Cricket watched him turn off the engine and grab her apron before closing and locking the car. He dropped the heavy garment next to her and crowded close, making a space for his body between her thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Cricket lifted her lips toward him, silently asking for another kiss. Mark didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands slid under her hips to pull her body tight to his. She could feel his shaft hardening against her. Desire flooded through her.

“Why did you run?” he whispered into her ear before kissing down her neck to Cricket’s shoulder.

Distracted by his attentions, Cricket told the truth. “I thought that guy from the bar had broken in.”

“What guy?” Mark demanded. His expression of desire and need morphed to stern and unyielding.

“That guy from the bar,” Cricket whispered, rattled by his expression. “You know. The one who kept coming on to me and was rude.” She didn’t think his appearance could become more concerning, but it did. Mark’s eyebrows pulled together as his mouth flattened into a straight line. He was quiet for a couple of seconds before remembering the name.

“Zimmerly?”

“Zimmerman,” Cricket corrected him automatically. “It’s just me being silly. He hasn’t ever come here. I’m sure he doesn’t know where you live.”

“Did he come back to the bar?”

“He was there a few days ago.”

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