Page 26 of Protector Daddy

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad. I mean, she’s a little early, right?”

“Just a little. But yeah, she’s relieved. That happened with Tabitha too, right?”

“Yeah. After her false alarm, Presley cooked a little longer and came out just fine. Still early, but not quite so bad.”

“She’s adorable. Brady can’t stop showing off pictures.”

“Wonder if Mav and Van’s baby will look like Presley. Since Van is Tab’s twin and all.” Halfheartedly, Honey patted my dog where she’d curled up on the sofa to watch the rain outside. She’d tucked a blanket around her legs and the fire was blazing as rain pelted the windows but she didn’t seem to feel the warmth.

Yet again, Boomer had draped himself over her feet to rest his head on her legs so he could watch her adoringly—and give her moral support.

Even a couple of hours later, Honey still looked as if someone had kicked her in the face.

With steel-toed boots.

“They didn’t even leave messages,” she said dully. “Why couldn’t they have at least left me a message? If Gina hadn’t thought she was in labor, I wouldn’t have even found out until tomorrow.”

“I imagine eloping took all their attention.”

“All my life, he’s been my best friend. Even when he was an idiot. My bestie Mickey would complain about her brothers, and yeah, I’d bitch about Brady being as communicative as a dollar store plastic rock, but not Mav. Mav remembers birthdays. He picks out good Christmas gifts. He returns phone calls and texts without being reminded and he never sends the dopey male one or two word kind.” She shot me an apologetic glance. “Are you a one word text guy? You probably are.” She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s annoying.”

“I’ll try to do better.” My sarcasm was completely lost on her. “Didn’t you say Mickey is your bestie? Is that a girl?”

“Yeah, Michaela. She’s my bestie but Mav is family. I mean, Mickey basically is too, but Mav’s my big brother. That’ll always be special.” She toyed with Boomer’s dog bone-shaped name tag on his collar.

“Brady’s your older brother too.”

“He’s a blockhead though.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Not even a little bit.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be the youngest and a girl.”

“No, I most certainly do not.”

She sniffled and cold dread settled in my gut as I leaned forward in my chair, either to sprint toward her to comfort her or maybe out of the room—perhaps even the house—entirely.

“I didn’t get to see him get married. I can’t believe it. How could he do it without me there? I get he’s in love and happy and gonna be a daddy and everything but just to forget me… I’d never forget him like that.” She dashed at her cheeks. “No matter who I was marrying. Not even if it was Jason Momoa and he’s prime.”

“Jason Momoa, really? That’s my competition?”

“Jason Stratham is pretty good too. Or Vin Diesel—”

“So the whole cast of the Fast movies is my competition. Good to know.”

“Competition? We’re talking fantasy stuff here. By the way, I saw that cut-out tucked in your blotter.”

“What cut-out?”

“Looked like a baseball card but had some beautiful brunette on it. Stacked, because they always are.”

“She’s a local author. The card was shoved in my bag at Every Line A Story. Kept it to ask my mom if she read her books so I could get her some for Christmas. They’re like murder and knitting. Murder with knitting needles and pottery. Hell if I know.”

“Sure. Likely story. She probably wrestles in mud.”

“If she does, that’s one heck of a sales tactic.” I braced my elbows on my knees. “Honey, look at me.”

She didn’t lift her head so I crossed the room and crouched at her side, scratching Boomer’s ears when he stretched his head toward me. “I guarantee Mav didn’t intend to hurt you. He just got…caught up.” Honey lifted her head and the big silver hoops at her ears shifted, catching the light. “Gotta admit, I was kinda caught up tonight too.”

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