Page 120 of Protector Daddy

Even though I’dbeen a cop for many years, it turned out that subterfuge of a more personal nature wasn’t my forté.

I just wanted this first Christmas for us to be absolutely perfect, and that required coordinating many steps.

About the only thing I had finished so far was Honey’s festively boxed and wrapped new Kindle, stuffed with tons of new books and a gift card for her to buy more. I’d also picked out a couple of sweaters in slightly roomier sizes in colors I thought she’d like. But buying clothes for a woman could be sticky, so I wasn’t going too in-depth there.

And I got her one piece of lingerie in a bold, sexy red that she would look amazing in. I could acknowledge that gift was for me just as much as it was for her, but it had been forever since I’d had someone to buy for. I could indulge myself a little bit.

Oh, and I’d found the cutest baby duck towel set. C’mon, we had to include an Arlo-themed gift, right?

Everything else was in chaos.

I paced through the construction site that was currently my den soon to be Honey’s own private sanctuary. It just would include an oversized dog and a newborn when the time came. “Are you sure the painting will be done in time?” I said into the phone.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, loosen your tighty-whities. I took the commission, cashed the commission check, and agreed to your insane deadline, didn’t I? It’ll be fucking done.”

I laughed only because I was currently high on life, not because Van was funny. She was one of the most contentious women I’d ever known, and so far, that had not changed even though we were due to soon be related by marriage.

Sometimes you just had to laugh.

“Great. Thanks.”

“How’s it going on your end?”

“Good. Crazy. Gideon’s team is almost done. They did an amazing job. Just on the finishing touches now.”

I looked around at the mess of tools and construction bits and pieces that still surrounded me. The three swings were hanging from the ceiling, one big and made for curling up and the other two for Boomer and Baby much smaller but would be no less cushy once filled with pillows.

Bright cheerful cushions were stacked in a teetering pile, recessed lighting shone from the ceiling, and the bookcases had been moved to the opposite wall, leaving space free for the large painting Van was working on that would be the centerpiece of the room. The solitary skinny window had been replaced with vivid stained glass, allowing the light from outside to pour in and be transformed into rainbows, no matter what the weather was like outside.

“Are you sure you don’t want a well-endowed alien in here for local color? Maybe climbing out of the lake like a space version of the Loch Ness monster? You know, his spaceship crashed and he ended up in the lake. He’s been living on ducks—”

“Hey, this isn’t supposed to be a horror-themed project.”

“Pity.” She coughed. “I’m only kidding. It’s gonna be beautiful and Honey is going to be so overwhelmed she’s going to cry and probably give you a BJ as a reward.”

My face was heating up again but I was alone in the den, thankfully. “Um, okay, thanks. I appreciate it. I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t particularly like you.”

“Uh, right.”

“But I went to dinner with Honey the other day and you know that whole pregnancy glowing fable? I don’t think I’m particularly glowing, but Honey is fucking incandescent. So whatever problems you and I had in the past, you obviously know how to do the partner and father thing right. That’s all I can ask for.”

“Thanks.” I huffed out a breath. “I’m trying.”

“You’re succeeding. She’s so excited about Reagan too. Guess that interview fucking near miss was meant to be. Not me seeing it. I could’ve done without seeing her boob in your mouth, especially since hers are way bigger than mine. Which is neither here nor there,” she added hurriedly. “Anyway, time to get back to work. I’ll be in touch soon. Bye!”

Shaking my head, I clicked off. I would never fully understand that woman, but we both loved the same people so at least we had that in common.

I needed to be on my A-game for the next part of my day, so I took a long hot shower and dosed myself heavily with caffeine before I fed Boomer and stepped out into the brisk morning. I had the day off and Honey had headed into the bakery early this morning, giving me the chance to enact the next part of my plan in private.

Even if I was shaking in my boots.

I pulled up the driveway to the McNeills’ tidy ranch home in Turnbull and squared my shoulders before going to meet my fate.

A large man with a nimbus of wild gray hair around his head held back in a tie-dye bandana and a trim gray beard answered the door. He wore a Don’t Kiss The Cook apron and had a joint hanging out of his mouth.

That should add some flavor to whatever he was cooking.

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