“Ouch, that stings.”
“But it doesn’t make it not true,” Alec added with a laugh before he went to heat up the iron skillet. He might be the tiniest bit cheeky, but this place was better for having him around. If that meant I had to accept a little sass from my employee, whom I wished would let me be his friend, then I was gonna do it.
“Happy birthday, Faust!”
He grinned wide. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t even expect this surprise party.”
Behind him, Bert rolled his eyes, though he clapped and smiled anyway. Beside me, Hank did the same, but I shut him down quick. If Faust wanted to pretend it was a real surprise, then I was going to let him.
The whole thing had fallen to me to plan. Hank was buried under an influx of new herds, and Bert had picked up official part-time legal work because he’d redecorated his house again. He blamed me because I wouldn’t let him redecorate The Lavender Porch, so he was bored. Anyway, with everyone busy, I’d stepped in and volunteered. Within a week, though, Faust was already calling me with his own ideas for the theme of a get-together he wasn’t supposed to know about.
He wanted a Miami Beach in the eighties theme—neon pastels, slick and bright, with an abundance of flamingos. No small feat to wrangle in the middle of Texas, but the Amazon delivery lady and I became very good friends. I’d snuck over last night—meaning Faust met me at the door with sweet tea—and decorated their sun porch, which Bert had told him was off-limits because of spiders. Faust, Bert claimed, was deathly afraid of them and wouldn’t even step into the room if he thought there was a chance it was true. All lies, of course, because Faust had helped me set up the streamers.
When I asked about the guest list, Bert said the only people Faust wanted there were Hank and me because he needed to talk to us. That alone set my nerves jangling, but he promised it would be fine, that Hank would be happy about it. Daddy groused about hating surprises, but the undercurrent of fear was palpable when he made the request.
“Hank?” I called, trying to get his attention to help me bring the food from the kitchen to the porch. He didn’t even look up. “Hank?” Nothing. “Daddy!”
“Geez, sugar, you don’t have to yell. I’m comin’,” Daddy said as he finally noticed me standing in the doorway. As he passed me, he kissed my cheek and patted my butt. I hoped I never stopped getting butterflies when Daddy touched me.
“I have to yell because you never hear me when I use your name,” I said exasperatedly. Alec’s words echoed in my head, but I quickly shoved them aside.
With an easy grin, Daddy took me by the elbow and guided me into the pantry. He took the platter out of my hands and set it gently on the shelf. Then, before I knew what he was about, he crowded me against the counter and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind my ear. He nosed along the edge of my jawline, dropping kisses as he went. My fingers flexed against his tight biceps.
“Daddy, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be setting up for lunch.”
“Lunch can wait.”
“Wait for what?” My breath came quicker than I intended. It was hard to regulate oxygen with a man as sexy as my Daddy this close.
“Wait until I’ve gotten a kiss from my boy, even if he yells at me. I need one,” he murmured.
“If you’d answered the first time…” I trailed off when Daddy sucked my earlobe into his mouth and delicately nibbled the fleshy spot. A shiver racked my body, and I felt him smile against my skin.
When his mouth migrated to mine, another shudder wracked my body. Then, when he slipped his tongue inside, I melted right there in his arms. His tongue mapped my own and then explored the deep recesses of my mouth. He tasted like the sweet lemonade he’d been sipping earlier and something that was all him.
I wanted to lose myself in the sensation of his kiss. Each thrust of his tongue wound me tighter and tighter into a coil. I felt him hard against my torso, my own body responding instantly. He deliberately rubbed his denim-covered cock against mine, and I whimpered at the friction.
“Daddy, what are you doing to me?”
“It’d be easier to keep my hands off you if you weren’t so goddamn sexy, sugar.” Daddy sealed his mouth against mine again, plunging his tongue between my lips. I met each thrust with one of my own. I was desperate for us to be skin to skin, but in the pantry of his de facto parents’ house, it didn’t seem like the best timing.
“All right, boys, get out of there. It’s not the time to make out.”
Daddy drew back from me with an annoyed expression that I knew wasn’t directed at me.
“What makes you think we’re making out in here?” he called through the closed door.
“Because that’s where Bert and I make out when we’ve got company,” Faust shot back.
A shadow crossed Daddy’s face, dark and decidedly unsexy. “Christ on a cracker, Faust, I don’t want to think about you and Bert doing that shit.”
“People have needs, Hank! People have needs!” Faust yelled back.
“All right, you win. We’re coming out. Just give me a second. I need to make sure Jasper looks presentable.” Daddy straightened my clothes, with particular care given to my cutoffs. Then he ruined the plan to get us out in a hurry when he palmed my butt and claimed it was to make sure they were straight—but when he slipped his hands under my tank top, not even he could keep a straight face. Biting my lip was a last-ditch effort to contain my moans, but it was a struggle.
“Hurry up in there because I’m fixin’ to tell you all about it, Hank. In. Vivid. Detail.”
“I need brain bleach,” Daddy muttered to himself.
