“Excuse me, guys.” I turn to the deep sound of Raif’s voice. “Don’t let me disturb you,” he says, pressing a kiss to my head. “You all good?”
I nod, and he straightens, but his hand remains on my shoulder. “You sure?” he asks, his eyes on mine.
“Of course. We’re just talking shop.”
“Okay.” He nods, but he looks unconvinced. “I’ll just grab juice boxes for the kids. If you need me…”
“I know.” My heart. There it goes swelling again. I have a heart-on for this man and his kindness.
“Can I get you a refill?” He directs his offer Whit’s way.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” he says, straightening in his seat.
“I can get you more water.”
I don’t really need it, but I nod anyway and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen. Broad shoulders. Straight back. Regal, almost. I turn to my brother again, keeping my voice even.Like a grown-up.I don’t want to embarrass myself or the men in my life who love me.
“I know you put up the money to open the gallery, and I’ll be eternally grateful for that, but I’m the one who has sweated blood and tears. I’m the one who worked seven days a week up until recently.”
“I get that, but—”
“I don’t think you do get it. I know you want your investment back—”
“You’re right, I don’t care about the gallery like you do, but fuck the investment. It’s you I care about. This is about you. I want to be sure you’re safe and fucking happy. You deserve that as a bare minimum, and it’s my job to make sure that happens.”
“With all due respect, Whit.” We both turn to Raif’s voice. “I think you’ll find that’s my responsibility now.”
“Yeah?” My brother’s gaze slides my way. “Is he up for the job?”
“Yeah.” There goes that fur ball again. I clear my throat and try for a second time. “Yes, he is.”
From across the room, Raif’s smile feels like sunshine on my skin.
“She might’ve passed the baton to you,” Whit says, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching.”
“Got it.” Raif nods just once but with such gravitas. My cheeks begin to tingle, and God help me, that’s not the only place I find that reaction as I glance down at my lap.
Good thing it doesn’t come with flashing lights.
“You okay, princess?” he asks, not giving a fuck about my brother’s incredulous huff.
I nod quickly. “I’m fine.” More than fine. Whit’s not my dad, but he loves me. And Raif is not my daddy, but he’s throwing out solid daddy vibes with that whole cherishing, authoritative,she’s-my-responsibilitything.
Oof.That is tickling my metaphoric pickle. But sadly, I find I must shake that shit right out of my head because I once walked into Whit’s office to hear Mimi whisper, “Daddy, you make it hurt so good.”
I’d needed brain bleach.
Daddy kink can’t be our thing as well.
“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Raif begins to turn in the direction of the kitchen. The nook isn’t a thoroughfare—I know he was just checking up on me.
“We’re done here,” Whit says, closing his laptop.
“Then come join us in the basement. The kids are swimming.”
“But they don’t have their bathing suits.”
“It wasn’t a planned swim.” Raif’s mouth curls in one corner.
