Page 113 of Under Daddy's Spell

“It’s not your fault.”

“You warned me, but I didn’t listen. My only excuse is I’ve never seen anyone with such a single-minded focus before. Has he ever seen a professional for OCD or whatever it is?”

“Not Brent Delacroix. He doesn’t recognize he has a problem. All things considered, I think it was a successful visit. We got three dinners and Sunday brunch out of him.”

“How did you manage brunch? The last I heard, he wanted to get the appraisals completed and was set against it.”

“That was before Shelly had a screaming meltdown fit on him.”

“Huh.”

They’d only been together a little over a month, but she thought she had most of his grunts down. They ranged from disbelief to amusement to indifference, and, when tacked on to the end, as a question. This was his surprised “Huh.”

“After meeting him and seeing him in action, that explains your step-mom.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The over-the-top way she acts and dresses is the only way she can get his attention.”

She hadn’t thought of that and let out a “Huh,” of her own.

“You didn’t notice?”

“I thought that was her personality. I guess I was too busy resenting her to notice it was anything else. Now I feel bad.” Rufus must have sensed the change in her mood or heard it in her voice because he jumped up next to her and laid his chin on her thigh. It didn’t compare to one of her daddy’s full-body hugs, but nothing did.

“Let’s change the subject, huh, baby doll. What do you have planned for this evening?”

“Rufus and I are waiting for the game to start. I’ve got nachos on tap, and he’s got a brand-new bone, so we’re ready to go.” She glanced at the clock on the TV. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the kickoff? It’s almost time?”

There was silence on the other end, and she thought she’d lost him.

“Daddy?”

“Still here, baby, sorry. Did you say you’re watching football?”

“I wouldn’t miss your broadcast for the world. Besides, I’m dying to see how blue your eyes look on an eighty-inch, high-def screen.” She picked up the bright-yellow book from the end table. “And I have a manual to explain anything I don’t understand.”

“What kind of manual?”

“Football for Dummies. I had a copy in stock. Who knew?”

He chuckled. “Leave it to my bookworm to learn football from a book.”

“How else do you do it?”

“Live, baby. So you can see, smell, and taste it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Smell and taste?”

“I appreciate the thought, sweet girl. But you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

“Why?” he asked, sounding truly perplexed.

“I love you, Daddy. You love football. It’s a big part of your life. I want to learn about it so I can love it, too.”

“Baby...”

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