Protector Daddy by Taryn Quinn

SIXTEEN

“Stop fretting. Let me do that.”

I pressed my lips together and stepped back to let Honey fix my tie. She was entirely too good at it and I was middling at best, even on a good day.

And the day my girlfriend was going to meet my daughter wasn’t a good day.

I had faith they’d like each other, but right now, I was more nervous than an atheist going to confession.

Did they get nervous over that? I didn’t know any atheists so I couldn’t say.

But I was fucking shaking in my shiny regulation cop shoes. I didn’t have any regular dress shoes on account of the fact I didn’t do anything social like go on dates.

Before Honey, I hadn’t done anything fun whatsoever for a very long time.

“You need to go with me to buy shoes,” I said under my breath, focusing on her intricate updo in the mirror. How did she do that?

“Sure, random man of randomness. Lift your chin. There you go. Perfect.” She patted my chest. “Though I gotta say, I wouldn’t have minded if you’d rocked the scruff a while longer.”

“I do not rock scruff.”

“Exactly. Change it up. Show the world a new badass side of Christian Masterson.”

I cocked a brow. “Scruff makes me a badass?”

“Well, something has to now that you no longer write indiscriminate parking tickets for my sister-in-law.”

“Watch it or I’ll start writing them for you.”

“Oh, yeah? Forcing me to up my BJ skills to get out of them, hmm?”

“As if such a thing could sway me.” But I had to grin as I dropped a kiss on top of her head. “But you’re more than welcome to try. Not that you could beat last night.”

“That wasn’t even a BJ. More like a creative cherry on top. You did all the work.”

“Inspired by you. Hot little thing that you are.”

She grinned. “Think you’re biased.”

“Oh, no think to it. I’m your number one fan, Honey McNeill.”

“Same goes.” With a saucy grin, she turned to face the mirror and pulled on the belt of her dress. “Does this make me look—”

I covered her mouth with my hand. “Don’t even say fat.”

She nipped the tips of my fingers. “I wasn’t. I was going to say appropriately girlfriend-like yet not trying too hard and also like I could be a mother-slash-friend to a teen. Maybe?”

“Okay, definitely didn’t guess you were going to say that mouthful.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?’

“For being you. For distracting me last night so thoroughly that I actually slept. For not freaking about all of this. For not asking more questions than I can answer.”

“I’m thinking if we make a go of this forever thing, I’ll have time to ask anything that pops into my mind.”

I closed my eyes and tipped my head against hers. “We never even had the exclusivity talk and we’re already at forever.” I tightened my hold on her as if I feared she’d vanish. “Thank God for you.”

She gripped my hands. “And for you. Thank you for letting me spin out last night and still loving me. Or at least still being fond of me.”

I had to laugh. “I still love you. No worries there. I get being possessive. Remember me almost biting Jimmy for even looking at you?”

“Yeah, you did do that. It was hot.”

“It was kind of hot you wanted to risk a baby because you so wanted to prove I was yours. Even if I’d never do that.” I averted my gaze. “What I did do was risky enough. After what happened with Reagan, I’d never take that chance without making sure 110% that everyone was okay with whatever happened. Hell, we should’ve discussed it before I ever touched you. This town doesn’t lend itself to impromptu decisions.”

“I know. But I also know that we are a team. Aren’t we?”

I clasped her fingers tightly. “Damn straight.”

“You love me enough to take care of me even when I’m being an ass.”

“I do. And I always will.”

She sighed and reached up to slide her arm around my neck. “Not sure if you noticed how quickly I can get in and out of this dress. We could cut the tension.”

“We cut the tension twice last night.” Yet I already wanted her again.

I’d never not want her.

She sighed again, wistfully this time. “Seems like it’s a method best repeated over and over. Who needs tea?”

I made myself take a long breath. I wished like hell we had time enough for more stress relief but we did not. We were down to single minutes until Reagan was due to arrive.

“I can’t believe she’s really coming here.”

“I know.” She laced her fingers with mine at her waist. “I mean, I know as much as I can, considering twenty-four hours ago I assumed you had no offspring, but I’m coming around.”

“You are. And you’re a fucking rockstar, because I don’t think I’d be nearly as cool as you are if I found out you had a kid.”

“Well, for one, it would be statistically impossible for me to have an almost eighteen-year-old daughter unless I matured unnaturally early.”

I pinched her ass. “You’re not funny. You know what I mean.”

“I am a little funny. And yeah, I do know. I’m not really cool about this. Ask Mav how I reacted at lunch yesterday. Actually, don’t.” She held up a hand. “We need a little mystery to keep the magic alive.”

“If we have any more magic, one or both of us will be dead.”

“True. But if I have to die, can it happen before I have to meet the entire family?”

“No. The entire family is going to love you and ask when I’m going to put a ring on it.”

She went still in my arms.

Figured we’d been in such a good spot and I had to keep talking until I made things weird. “My mom is a typical mom. You know, she wants as many grandchildren as humanly possible—”

Honey stepped away from me and tossed me a jaunty look over her shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing you got such a head start there, huh?”

I didn’t move when she walked out the door. How had I messed things up so fucking royally?

By saying far too much as usual.

I gave both of us a couple minutes to settle and then I came out to find her making coffee calm as could be in the kitchen. Which was a deceptive sign of tranquility. Even with my many years of singledom and lack of practice with the opposite sex, I knew from Murphy that believing a woman wasn’t pissed at you just because she seemed perfectly fine often could be a trap.

So after I took Boomer out to pee then closed him in the den—I didn’t know how Reagan felt about dogs—I tried a different approach.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked as I stood beside her at the counter.

“Talk about what?”

“What’s bothering you,” I hedged.

“Nothing is bothering me. I’m just nervous and you’re just…you.”

“Oh. Okay.” I went to take the mug of coffee beside her elbow and she smacked my hand.

“Mine.” Then she reached for one from the hook and poured me a fresh one. “This is yours.”

“Thanks.” Time for another approach, since the last one clearly was not the one. “I don’t really know how to do this, Honey. I’m not some suave guy with all the moves. I’m going to fuck up. Repeatedly.”

She let out a long sigh and fumbled with the tie of her dress before she turned to face me. “In case it’s not obvious, I’m a jealous shrew even though it makes no sense.”

“Jealous over what?”

“That some other woman had your baby. Duh.”

Her words warmed me inside so that I had no choice but to cup her cheek. Not touching her seemed impossible. “Some other woman didn’t want to be having my baby. She wanted anything in the world but that.”

“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.

Sure, Reagan had come out to visit a few times before. It wasn’t as if this was our first meeting. But she’d come out for lunches or afternoons, never for longer than that. She hadn’t wanted to lie to her mother and I agreed with that. I didn’t want to be someone’s dirty secret, especially my own daughter’s.

I came down to them making breakfast. Something I had totally forgotten to do. I hadn’t even gone grocery shopping to make sure there were things to make. But Honey seemed to be doing just fine.

“I forgot to get groceries. Sorry.”

“No worries. These strawberries are just fine. I found this waffle maker thingy in the cabinet over the refrigerator.” Honey tapped a mint green machine I vaguely recognized from a couple Christmases ago. Why it had been shoved in a cabinet I rarely used—or even looked in. “Miracle of miracles, you even had syrup. Oh, I need butter.”

Honey went over to the refrigerator, used her beloved camera view, then opened the door to bend inside to grab the butter dish. Naturally, that bent angle in that snug dress did amazing things to her ass and I had to avert my eyes in the vain hope of not popping a damn erection while standing beside my daughter.

Worse, I looked back as Honey turned around and she was smirking at me, as if she knew quite well how she affected me. Evil woman.

“This place is really nice.” Reagan hopped on a stool at the counter and looked up at the array of copper pots hanging from the ceiling that probably had a fine coating of dust on them. I certainly never used them. “I mean, Gigi and Gramps’ place is wow too, but there’s so much light and you’re in the middle of the forest. Are there bears?”

Honey shuddered. “Not that I’ve seen.”

“No bears,” I assured them.

I wasn’t certain on that score. With wildlife, you couldn’t be too sure. Even the local ducks were in the process of trying to take over the town. But I’d never seen a bear near my house.

Honey whipped up batter as Reagan and I made small talk about everything and nothing. Then I took her on a brief tour of the house after Honey waved us off. Reagan seemed amazed by everything from the skylights to the indoor lap pool and the fireplace and the “kickass” four-poster beds.

By then, Boomer had been sequestered long enough and let out a howl.

“Oh my God, no way, you have a dog too?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you liked them.”

“I love dogs. Love them.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mom’s allergic, but honestly, she goes mental about getting anything on her white leather couch.”

Sounded like Penelope. My taste in women had seriously improved since high school

I stopped in front of the door to the den and glanced at my daughter before I turned the knob. “Brace yourself. He’s a big guy.”

“Like his owner.”

“Yeah.” Soon as I opened the door, Boomer raced out and then skidded to a halt at the sight of Reagan. She crouched to his level and held out her hand to sniff as an experienced dog person would. And like my crazy ass dog, he bypassed a sniff and went up on his hind legs to put his paws on her shoulders.

“Boomer, down!”

He didn’t even look my way before Reagan fell to her butt and took the dog in her arms like they were lifelong friends. He licked her face exuberantly then cast a withering look at me as if to say forget you and your rules.

“Aww, look at you. Aren’t you the cutest big boy?” Reagan giggled as Boomer gave her his version of a hug then bounded down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, finally in search of his original true love.

My girlfriend.

I held out a hand to Reagan to help her up. “Sorry. He used to have better manners. Guess I need to try training school again although he seemed to forget everything from the last time.”

Reagan jumped to her feet and dusted off the back of her jeans. “He’s a sweetheart. Didn’t hurt me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Don’t be a worrywart.”

Little did she know worrying was basically line one in the parental handbook. At least the For Dummies version I carried in my back pocket.

I went back to the kitchen and found Reagan roughhousing with Boomer, the waffle iron beeping with an alarm, and Honey nowhere in sight.

“Honey?” I called, backtracking down the hall to the closed bathroom door. She didn’t reply but I heard the water running.

Remembering she’d mentioned not feeling well yesterday, I knocked gently on the door. “You okay?”

Still didn’t answer. I was about to knock again when she opened the door and quickly brushed past me. “Fine. Oops, time for waffles!” She rushed down the hall so fast I didn’t even have time to see her face.

I glanced into the bathroom and noticed a balled-up towel in the sink. It was half soaked, as if she’d wiped her face.

Had she been sick? If so, why didn’t she tell me? Maybe she didn’t want to seem like she was bailing on our day with Reagan, but if she wasn’t feeling well, no way did I want her cooking for us and traipsing around the university.

I’d just keep a close eye on her. If she was still not feeling well, she wouldn’t hide the evidence from me.