Page 83 of Protector Daddy

“She’s a fucking moron. I’m really not sure how your daughter can be so beautiful and seem as bright as you say she is with her as a parent, but I have to assume your genes won out.” She linked her arms around my neck. “Relax,” she added softly. “You’re going to do just fine. We’re going to do just fine.”

“Yeah.” I inhaled slowly and let it out just as slowly as my hands clamped on her waist. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“You sure as hell could. You’ve been standing up all these years, playing the role in the background. You’ve been her father from day one, even when her mother didn’t want to let you. I don’t know the whole story, just the little bit I’ve heard from you and my brother so far. Seems to me you just did it from behind the scenes.”

“I didn’t know her, see her, talk to her for so many years…”

“That was her mother’s conditions, not yours. You sat back and waited and luckily, your daughter had questions and she followed up on them. Tenacious like her daddy. You never gave up on the situation. Never stopped hoping the day would come when she would walk into your life.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded. “I’d still be waiting.”

“Now you don’t have to.” She rested her hand on my jaw and made me meet her gaze. “We’ll take it an hour at a time. And remind me of that tomorrow when I’m meeting your whole family and hyperventilating into a paper bag.”

I grinned. “I know I said it all wrong, but I swear, my mom will love you. They’ll all love you. If they don’t, I’ll threaten to withhold the sweet potato pie on Thanksgiving.”

“Wait, you make the pie?”

“Just one pie of the six we usually have. Rest are my mom’s doing along with whatever fancy New York City bakery Penn snags one from to look like a big shot.” I shrugged. “I never could cook or bake any damn thing besides two easy meals so I learned how to make a pie. Didn’t want to be completely useless. And it’s both a baked good and food because it comes from a vegetable.”

As her lips twitched, I ducked my head. “Least to my way of thinking.”

“Stop being so fucking cute.”

“No way. I gotta have some way to get out of trouble.”

“Uh-huh.” She grabbed my cheeks and gave me a smacking kiss as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that.”

Rather than insisting to be the one who greeted Reagan, I stepped back. She couldn’t screw this up any worse than I would. “Okay.”

“Right answer.” She patted my chest and walked down the hall to answer the door.

I sipped my cooling coffee and clutched the edge of the counter as if I needed it for support. The hum of their voices and their laughter drifted down the long hall to me but I couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying. At least they seemed friendly.

Probably agreeing on what a putz I was. I couldn’t even argue.

Then I turned to see them hugging. Hugging, for God’s sake. Like old friends. Because Honey had a way about her and could make anyone feel accepted and appreciated and wanted.

Even me.

Reagan walked into the foyer and dropped her backpack on the tiled floor. “Whoa, this house is like mega. Dad, you told me you were a cop, not a rockstar,” she called.

“Cops are rockstars,” Honey said seriously, making Reagan cock her head. “Metaphorically speaking.”

“I am a cop, and yeah, the house is a lot. My brother Murphy—your uncle—he’s kind of rich and he builds smart houses among other things so he helped me out.”

“The refrigerator has a camera,” Honey announced. “Don’t even have to open it to make your grocery list. It’s the coolest thing ever.”

“Wow.” Reagan looked appropriately awed in her ripped jeans and off the shoulder sweater. Her hair was up in some complicated twist thing like Honey did with hers and gigantic silver triangles swung at her ears.

She looked like a woman, not a child, and my throat tightened to the point I hoped I’d be able to speak without blubbering like a fool.

“Come see.” Honey grabbed Reagan’s arm and basically shoved me out of the way as she towed her up the hall.

“I’ll put your things in your room—” I called after them, but they were too busy chattering about technology to hear me.

I grabbed Reagan’s backpack and took the stairs two at a time. I was glad they were getting along. And maybe it was better that I had a few moments to collect myself in private.

Although I didn’t think a couple minutes would give me time to get over the fact that my little girl was fully grown and I’d missed almost every bit of it.

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