Protector Daddy by Taryn Quinn

TWENTY-FOUR

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.

Instead of saying hello, he called back to whom I assumed was his wife. “The missing boyfriend has arrived. Guess he’s not avoiding you, after all, Liz.”

I cleared my throat. We’d officially waited too long to set up this meet and greet. “Hi, Mr. McNeill. I’m definitely not avoiding anyone.”

Liz appeared beside him, though I wasn’t comfortable calling her anything but Mrs. McNeill. “So you decided to show yourself after impregnating my daughter without so much as a ‘How do you do’ to her parents first.” She crossed her arms, and I could totally imagine her wearing body armor despite her flowing purple peasant blouse. Authority practically wafted from her pores.

“I’m supposed to introduce myself to you before I sleep with Honey?”

“Well, it’d be nice,” she snapped. “I helped you with melons in the store once. Don’t think that means we have a relationship. You haven’t answered a single one of the questions.”

“The questions?”

“Yes, the vetting questions. Not that it matters now, since my innocent daughter is now bearing your offspring.”

There were several different ways I could have responded, but the one that I chose was not ideal. “She’s not that innocent,” I muttered.

“How dare you!”

“I don’t dare, I really do not. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I love your daughter, and she’s happy about the baby. We both are. Though it’s supposed to still be a secret, so how did you find out?”

Her face flushed deeply red. “Don’t you worry about that, Officer Masterson. My network knows no bounds.”

“Uh, I’m sure but you realize she’s going to be twenty-five next year, right?”

Again, not the right answer. I was nailing this already, and I hadn’t even been asked one of the vetting questions yet.

“When you’ve born three beautiful children out of your vagina, you’re welcome to question my parenting skills. Until then, STFU.” The door slammed in my face, the cheerful Santa door knocker shivering in the sudden wind.

Dear God. Even my worst imaginings hadn’t come close to the reality. Why didn’t Honey mention to me that her mother was like this? She’d certainly seemed to be in no hurry to bring me home to meet them, but still.

Taking a deep breath, I used Santa to knock on the door again.

After a moment, Honey’s father leaned out, his joint still hanging precipitously from his mouth. “She doesn’t like you.”

“We just got off on the wrong foot. If she got to know me, she’d realize that I’m totally devoted to Honey and the baby. I want to marry her.”

Mr. McNeill inhaled, nodding sagely. “Keep going.”

“I just wanted to talk to you both, make sure you guys were comfortable with me asking for her hand.”

“I don’t think she is.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “Honey is a strong-willed, smart girl. She knows what—and who—she wants. If she doesn’t want to marry you, she’ll just say no. But I don’t feel like it’s my place to harsh her buzz.” He took another hit and then cocked his head and slowly blew out a stream of hazy smoke. “If Liz doesn’t want you to marry Honey, then what?”

I crossed my arms. “Then I ask her anyway, because I love her and love our baby and I’m going to spend my life making her happy. No parent can begrudge me that.” I looked around as it started to snow. “Hell, I’m standing out here in the freezing cold just for the chance to convince your wife I’m right for her daughter. I’m committed to this.”

The door flew open, and Mrs. McNeill appeared beside her husband. “Do you really think that’s enough? How do you plan to support her?”

“I’m a cop,” I said slowly. “I have a nice pension, 401K, savings. My home is appreciating every month. I’m comfortable and she will be too, whether or not she chooses to work.”

“And what about that? Do you insist on her working?”

“I don’t insist on anything. Whatever she chooses to do, we will figure it out. I just want her to be happy. Period. Look, I just want to come in and discuss this like rational people—”

“No need.” The door opened wider and she flew out onto the stoop to give me a hard hug that nearly dislodged several ribs. “You passed the vetting. Though thank God, she knows how to cook. You can’t even choose the right melon.”

Carefully, I hugged her back. I felt as if someone with a camera would pop out of the bushes at any moment. “I really passed?”

“You did. You’re a decent man, Officer Masterson. Honey could do way worse. Like that ex of hers, Sal.” She shook her head in obvious disgust before stepping back. “It’s cold out here.”

I had never heard of this Sal. Probably best I didn’t know. “Sure is.”

“Let’s go inside and discuss some ground rules and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you’re on the schedule soon.”

“I am, yes.”

She clapped my back vigorously. “No need to belabor this. Kevin, put a pot on. I’m sure Christian needs to get out of here in an hour or two.”

Narrowly, I avoided groaning. An hour or two? Dear Lord.

What I undertook just to do this properly and be romantic. I hoped Honey appreciated my efforts.

I also hoped I survived.