Page 12 of Daddy's Little Patient

First things first. He set his hands on her biceps and chafed them through the robe.

“We’re going to sit down and have a conversation but first I’m going to get you something to eat and I’m going to take a quick shower so you don’t pass out from the smell.”

“You don’t smell bad,” she said, a light wash of pink coming over her cheeks.

“Then this must be the best deodorant in the world,” he joked because whether or not he stank, he was definitely sweaty as fuck. “Be that as it may, I want to wash off so we can talk properly. But let’s get you breakfast first. You like eggs?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to—”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“Any way that’s not runny.”

“Let’s see what I can do.”

He’d noticed when she came down that she still looked tired despite sleeping for so long, and that tracked with his suspicions. As did the yawn she let out while he steered her over to the counter. Poor thing.

“How do you feel about salsa and eggs? Delicious or abomination?”

Cricket giggled. “Delicious.”

“I think so too, but I draw the line at ketchup. I don’t know why.”

He set to making her an omelet, throwing in some some of the vegetables from last night plus a few spinach leaves, some chorizo, and folding it over some shredded jack cheese. Not liking vegetables was fine, but he was still going to get her to eat some.

He slid the omelet onto a plate and shook out some jarred salsa into a ramekin he set on the side, and then put the food in front of her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You want coffee? There’s some in the pot.”

Another wrinkled nose. “No thank you. Could I have a glass of water though?”

“May you have a glass of water?” he corrected automatically, and wanted to kick himself. Cricket wasn’t his, and he shouldn’t be treating her as though she was. “Of course.”

And fuck did he want to get a sippy from the Littles cabinet, especially when he heard her hum happily—hopefully after taking a bite of her breakfast, although he wouldn’t be mad if it was from seeing his ass in his gym shorts.

He was pretty used to people who found men attractive finding him attractive, and mostly it slid off him like raindrops on an umbrella. Cricket’s appreciation or interest would hit differently though—but he didn’t want to get excited about that. It wouldn’t matter how hot she thought he was on first glance if she wasn’t interested in everything behind his looks.

After giving Cricket her water, he had to stop himself from kissing her cheek. Everything about her was kissable, and if he had his way he’d be kissing every last inch of her. For now, he’d go clean up.

“Eat up, Cricket,” he told her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

By the time he came down, she’d not only finished eating but done the dishes too. They would have a talk about that. Possibly several. And if things went the way he hoped, one of those discussions would happen with her draped over his lap and her bottom bared.

Owen leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and crossed his arms. “Cricket.”

She looked up from the counter she was wiping down, and he thought she liked that tone. He certainly liked the way she responded to it. Wide, round eyes and a slight pinch of her generous mouth.

“You’re my guest.”Guest, babygirl, po-tay-to, po-tah-to.“Guests don’t clean up in this house.”

“Sorry?” she offered, looking perplexed.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. I know you were trying to do something nice. But letting me take care of these things is what’s nice. I take my duties as host very seriously.”

Host, Daddy, toh-may-to, to-mah-to.

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