And then I got the giggles.
“Sugar, what the hell is going on down there?” Daddy’s tone was fake stern, and that made me giggle more. I made the mistake of glancing up at him, which let me spot a trickle of sweat trailing down his thigh, so I licked that too. And that made me laugh harder. Daddy’s chuckle drifted down to me as he played with my shaggy hair.
Best damn breakfast in the world.
“How about we do breakfast, take two?”
“No more distractions this morning?” I asked Daddy with a grin as he followed me down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Unfortunately, no. After I leave here, I need to go confirm tags on a herd of Watusis.” His words were a little muffled as he dried his hair from the shower, but the gist was clear. He was heading back to work, and I should probably do the same.
And he wasn’t wrong. This was exactly the kind of distraction that had always gotten me in trouble before. I’d meet a guy, think he was amazing, we’d have sex, and then nothing else mattered except making him happy—turning myself inside out to be exactly what he wanted in the moment. Daddy had the right idea: have incredible sex, then go back to real life. Which was slightly less incredible, but not terrible.
“Do you want me to help with breakfast?” Daddy asked.
His voice was easier to understand now, but his body was no less distracting. He looped the towel over the back of his neck, and the only thing covering him was a towel around his waist. His skin was two-toned—lighter where it was usually covered, sun-browned everywhere else—and it made my mouth water. I was so very down for round two, but I was determined to be the mature, productive adult I claimed to be. No more attempts to get him back into my bed this morning. The trickle of water down his chest was a test of my stamina. I was close to giving up.
“No, I’m good. Before we got distracted, I was mostly done anyway. Oh—shoot, I didn’t even ask—do you like omelets?”
“Sugar, I like any food I don’t have to cook.”
“For the record, your naan barbecue chicken pizzas were yummy.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, especially since I hardly ever bother.”
“And you’d like to keep it that way?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
Daddy’s wink made my heart stutter. “Busted.”
“I’m usually happy to volunteer,” I answered over my shoulder while I worked on the omelets.
“Did you ever think about going to cooking school?”
“Nope. It’s like with people who love to read, and everyone says, ‘Why don’t you write a book?’ Because I don’t want to write a book. I just want to do the part I like.”
I knew I was rambling, but what else was I supposed to do when he was distracting me with that bare chest? I was only human. Restraint was not my strong suit.
Daddy settled himself at the counter after wiping it down with a cleaner. I slid a cup of coffee to him, but he waved off my offer of creamer or sugar and nursed his mug while I turned back to the stove.
“Are we gonna talk about yesterday, Jasper?”
“Ideally, no.” I sighed. “I was having a moment. It’s not a big deal.”
“Did something happen?”
“Let me just say, off the bat, that my dad loves me very much. I know it, he knows it, my brothers know it. But he also thinks I’m kind of a screwup, and he’s worried this might just be one more in a line of screwups.”
“Well, okay. But doesheknow how to make a balloon dog?”
“Well, no, because he doesn’t need to make balloon dogs to make a living. He’s a doctor.”
Daddy tapped his chin, pretending to think while I finished the omelet. Finally, he pronounced, “I think it would be helpful as a side gig.”
“You know, next time I talk to him, I’m absolutely bringing that up.”
“That’ll shut him down.”
I appreciated Daddy’s optimism, but I had my doubts. Still, one of these days, I’d master those damn balloon dogs.
