The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

after our workout, too. That will help ease your aches and pains.”

She gives me a much happier nod. “I’ll be all better by tomorrow, Daddy. Promise.”

I take her hand and rub my thumb over her knuckles. “Don’t push yourself. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us. Tomorrow’s Cabo. I thought we might go to the beach in the morning and build sandcastles before we meet Michael and Teresa for lunch. Then we’ll do some sightseeing in the afternoon. Nice, relaxed day that’ll leave us with plenty of energy for our big scene.”

Emily turns fiery red, even her little ears pinkening, and becomes very involved in pushing the last few bites of waffles around on her plate.

“Are you still okay with the Princess Amber scene, sweetheart?”

She nods but doesn’t lift her eyes from her breakfast.

“Talk to me, Emmy. What’s worrying you?”

“What if I don’t react right?”

React right? How could she react wrong? “Emmy, you’re wonderful in scenes. You go so deeply into character I barely recognize you.”

She smiles but continues playing with the remains of her waffles. “It’s going to be hard treating you like a scary stranger, Daddy.”

“Ah.” I see the source of her concern. “I don’t have to be a stranger, do I? The Black Knight could have met Princess Amber before at tournaments and things. Is it important that they’re strangers?”

She lifts her gaze and looks at me wonderingly. “No, Daddy. Princess Amber would be even more outraged that the Black Knight is sacking her father’s castle if he’s someone she knows. That’s such a good idea.”

“Thank you.” I kiss her knuckles. “I like working up scenes with you. Almost as much as playing them out with you. Yesterday’s scene was one of the best I’ve done; I hit topspace so fast it made my head spin.”

She grins. “You really liked it? I was afraid it was too tame for you.”

“Too tame for me?”

She nods. “Because you’re a wolfy-daddy.”

“I see. Well, it wasn’t.” I chuckle. “That cane has a gorgeous bite. Perfect for a wolfy-daddy.”

She tucks her face into her hands, blushing. Her little-girl blushes are almost as much of a turn on as the thumb sucking. They make my head light and my balls tight, and because I’m thinking with my little head instead of my big one, it takes me a minute to realize why she’s so shy this morning.

“We shared a lot yesterday, didn’t we?”

She grabs her teacup in both hands and hides behind it.

“Some of those things were pretty big. Tough to share with someone you’ve only known for a week, huh?” I reach across the table, unwrap one of her hands from the teacup and hold it in mine. She slowly lowers the teacup, looking at me anxiously. “I feel comfortable with you knowing about those things about me. Are you okay with me knowing about those things about you?”

She bites her lip, then nods. “Yes, Daddy. It’s just that some of them are really embarrassing.”

I’m not sure which of the things she told me last night she finds particularly embarrassing this morning, but it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that she knows she can tell me anything without fear.

“Emmy, the things you’ve found out about me over the last couple of days are more than ‘really embarrassing.’ They’re psych ward commitment-level embarrassing.” That gets a giggle out of her. “But, I figure, you’ve seen the absolute worst of my life this week and you haven’t run away, so it can only get better from here.”

“I wouldn’t run away, Daddy. I want to be there for you. It’s helped, right?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s helped.”

“And I want to tell you things. Important things.” Something shifts in her eyes and they fill with darkness, then with tears. “I’m just afraid that you won’t want me as your little once you know those things about me.”

What the hell is this? Is she about to reveal some deep secret over waffles and Eggs Benedict? And what could be so bad? What could be worse than the horrors my life has spat at her this week?

“Other than you being a serial killer, there is nothing you could tell me that would make me not want you as my little girl. Are you really a serial killer? Is Matthew actually buried in your garden rather than living it up in Costa Rica?”

She begins laughing, and I join her, taking both of her hands in mine and rubbing her knuckles with my thumbs.

“No, Daddy,” she says when our shared laughter dies down. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“I’m not afraid of your secrets, Emmy,” I say, looking straight into those big eyes so she knows I’m serious. “Whenever and whatever you want to tell me, I will listen. In fact, I think we’ll set aside time for that. And there won’t be any repercussions to anything you might say. It will just be Emmy’s time to tell her daddy whatever she wants. What do you think about that?”

She nods. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good girl. You ready to do really exciting PI work? I figure we have seventy-two hours of CCTV footage to watch. Seventy-two hours of mostly empty hallway. Sounds knicker-gripping, huh?”

She giggles. “Yes, Daddy.”

“C’mon, beanie. Let’s go play detectives.”

Still giggling, she lets me lead her out of the booth and back to our cabins.

* * *

Because my cabin is still cold enough to give me icicles on my eyeballs, we set up shop in Emily’s. We position our laptops side-by-side on her desk. I like the way they look next to each other. My roses nod in a glass block next to Emily’s computer. I take one out and tickle her nose with the soft petals.

Giggling, Emily starts up her computer and opens a program.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a timeline program I wrote.”

“You wrote?”

She nods. “I took a class on Unix coding through Open University.” She bites her lip. “I told you, I’m really scattered.”

I chuckle and stroke her soft curls. “I like your scatter, sweetie.”

She shows me how