Page 7 of D*cked By Daddy

“You’ve been busy this morning. You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve made you breakfast and coffee.”

“Daddy,” she says, coming back in for a kiss. “It’s your birthday. Today is your day. So shut up and let me pamper you for once. Now, let’s go!”

She tears back the covers, and when I get off the bed and start to chase her, she squeals and runs into the bathroom. I catch her and pull her into the large shower with me, turning the water on as hot as she likes it. We make out like teenagers while we shower, not leaving until the water runs cold and forces us out.

* * *

Less than twenty minutes later, we are dressed and leaving the cabin. I threw on one of my old flannels with a pair of jeans and boots. She came up to me after I had it buttoned and rolled up the sleeves.

“I like it when you wear it like this. Shows off those sexy forearms.”

I just rolled my eyes at her and smacked her ass as she walked away.

“And I like it when you wear those jeans. Shows off that peachy ass of yours.”

The drive down the mountain is scenic and very, very twisty. It takes a while to make it down, but once we get back into an area with cell signal, Holly is directing me to the little cafe she wants to eat brunch at.

It’s a cute little place with cozy booth seating. But the only thing I really care about is the coffee, and the moment we walk inside, I can smell it. We put our order in and snag a table, both of us sitting on the same side so I can hold her close.

She’s using a new shampoo lately, and it smells like raspberries. I throw my arm around her shoulder, and she leans her back on my chest, propping her feet up on the wooden seat. We sit in silence while we wait for our food, watching people walk around the downtown area and the cars drive by.

“You know, I always wonder if people think you’re my dad.” She laughs after the waitress has dropped off our orders.

“I sure hope they don’t after they see us snuggled up like this. I can’t imagine any father and daughter being this close.” I take a sip of my coffee as she leans up and digs into her french toast.

“God, I hope not.” She fakes a full-body shiver. “Gross.”

We take our time, adopting the slower way of life that people seem to have in small towns, and eventually decide to walk down to the shelter. It’s a nice day even though it rained last night. It just smells and feels like fall, and I can tell that Holly is completely in her element. She’s taking pictures of the little shops and cute lofts above them.

“It’s like stepping into the Gilmore Girls show.”

I only know what she’s referencing from Charlotte watching it while she was at my place. And Holly’s right—it does kind of feel like that here.

A few more streets and we reach the shelter. We can hear the dogs barking inside, and it plants a little seed of excitement in me. Especially when I look over and see Holly beaming from ear to ear. And once we make it inside, all of my reservations melt away.

Because the first aisle we walk down, I find our dog.

Nick is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with this dog.

I’ve been watching them play for the past hour, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much joy on his face. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. He’s pretty happy with me, too. But this dog is something else. He’s—yes, it’s a he—is a three-year-old pit bull with brindle fur and a tail that never stops wagging. He walks perfectly on the leash and so far seems to be fully house-trained.

He even rode in the car back to the cabin like he’s been doing it his whole life. At the shelter, they said his name was Scout, and he does seem to already have some name recognition with that, so we decided to keep it.

“The kids are going to freak out when they meet you,” I say as I smoosh his face and give him kisses. Now that he’s been bathed twice, he’s pleasant enough to be on the furniture and receive all the kisses I can possibly give him.

“I’m going to go get the rest of his stuff from the car,” Nick says as he groans and gets up off the floor.

“Going to make it, old man?” I tease.

“Look, these bones are too damn old to be sitting on a hardwood floor for hours on end playing with a dog.” His smile is playful.

“You love it, though!” I call out as he walks out the door. “He does,” I say, turning my attention back to Scout. “He loves it, and he loves you. And you are going to be the happiest damn dog that ever lived. Yes you are.”

Scout licks my face and then circles around on the couch cushions before finding his perfect spot and plopping down. Poor thing is exhausted from his long day of baths and playing. But he’s settling in so quickly, and my heart is so full now that we have him.

Nick carries in his crate along with all the other toys and blankets we got him while we were in town. Scout sleeps through it all, snoring and kicking me every once in a while as he chases squirrels in his dreams.

“What do you want for your birthday dinner?” I ask Nick when he finally sits down.

---