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

couldn’t bear it. This place, where I’ve finally, finally felt at home. Where I belong again for the first time since I realized my ex-husband was cheating on me.

A tear drips onto the tomato before I even know I’m crying.

Logan’s beside me a second later, moving the knife away and wiping my cheek with gentle fingers. “What’s wrong, little girl?”

“I had a bad thought.”

“A bad thought like you wanted to hurt yourself?”

I shake my head quickly. Logan knows I cut myself in high school. He’s told me he worries I might hurt myself again if I get overwhelmed by dark thoughts. I have heard that horrible voice from time to time since meeting Logan, criticizing me, telling me I’m not worthy of my daddy’s love. But it’s so much less than it was before I knew him. I feel like I’m getting better every day at dismissing the ugly things it says, remembering that I belong to Daddy and that he holds me in his hands no matter what. I don’t want Logan to worry.

“I’m okay. Promise.”

He takes my face in his hands and looks at me, his dark eyes probing and intent. I meet his gaze for as long as I can.

“Do you want to tell me what the bad thought was?” he asks, his voice as gentle as his hands.

I shake my head. We’ve agreed that I always tell him when I’m having bad thoughts, but I don’t have to tell him what they are. He asks, and if I can tell him, I do. But I’m not ready to tell him about this yet. Not until I’ve figured out what to say.

He kisses my forehead, which makes me go nearly boneless with submission and love and everything I feel for him, because that kiss tells me he has me, and everything will be okay.

“I’ll accept that for right now, little girl, but we’re having Knee Time tonight and I want to hear what’s worrying you.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I can tell him what’s worrying me without getting into my fear that he’ll sell this house or asking permission to sell mine. Maybe if I tell him I know about the medical bills, he’ll talk to me about them. Maman used to say, a problem shared is a problem halved. Even if I can’t help yet, maybe just talking to me about them will make Logan feel better.

His frowny line is gone by the time we eat dinner. Daddy loves my cooking, even when I sprinkle chia seeds on his salad and substitute quinoa for rice. He says he appreciates that I’m helping him be healthy. Daddy was never really unhealthy, except his cholesterol level was a little high. But he has a sweet tooth and goes for carbs and processed sugar to satisfy it. I make him a healthy dessert every day, usually a fruit tart with a nut base because that seems to satisfy him the most, but today I’ve made blueberry, coconut, and cacao parfait because it’s lighter than a fruit tart and we both might appreciate something light after the richness of the steaks.

As we’re finishing the parfait, he takes my hand and squeezes my fingers in his. “Something I want to talk to you about, little girl.”

I’m all ears. My entire body becomes one big receptor, tuning in to take in every word, every nuance and inflection of his tone. I always listen carefully to what Logan says, but when he gives me a heads-up, I turn into a human Very Large Array.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“You’ve been amazing these last couple of weeks, Emmy. You’ve gone so above and beyond for me. Hendry says I’m far ahead of where she expected me to be in my recovery and that’s down to you. You’ve never once whined or complained, even though I know you must have been frustrated and overwhelmed sometimes. I’m blown away by your care.”

I feel the hot prickle in my eyes again. I’m not upset, just moved by his praise. “Ta very much.”

He squeezes my fingers again. “Ta very much to you, little girl. I want you to know how much you’re appreciated. So, I’m going to reward you as your daddy, and I’m going to reward you as your Dom.”

A shiver runs through me. I can’t help it. Rewards from Daddy are super-sweet. Like the chain and charms I wear around my neck, which we both call a memory chain. But I’m really, really hoping that someday he’ll make it a collar. Rewards from Logan when he’s being domly are not sweet. They’re usually painful. In a good way, but still. As much as I want them, they also make me nervous.

“Your reward from Daddy is a kitten. I know you’ve said you’re too flighty to take care of a pet. I don’t believe that but, even if I did, I’d still want you to have a kitten. I’ll help you take care of it. It will become a part of your daily schedule. Would you like a kitty?”

I would love a kitty. I always wanted pets but Maman said I couldn’t have them because I was too irresponsible. My brother Francis had horrible, smelly turtles and gerbils that bit me when I tried to pet them, but I wasn’t allowed any pets. Even the baby squirrel I found after it had fallen out of its nest and took care of until it grew big, I wasn’t allowed to keep. Maman made me release it as soon as the vet said it was big enough to fend for itself. Ash was allergic to anything with fur, so I didn’t have any pets while we were married, either. Once I was out on my own, I always worried that Maman was somehow right: I wouldn’t be able to care for a pet and it would die and it would be my fault. With Logan to keep me structured, I have no such fear.

I have to wipe my eyes and blink very hard before I can answer.