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

herd my flock of balloons into the house, with DirtyGurl crooning over how pretty they are.

When Laurel and Jiro’s taxi arrives a minute later, we head back outside and DirtyGurl starts crooning again, this time over Laurel’s outfit.

“How come I missed the dress-up memo?” DirtyGurl asks after she’s introduced to Jiro and Laurel. She flicks her fingers at me. “You always look cute as a button.” She gestures at Laurel. “You look amazing. Those boots are so cool. Can I take a picture? I mean, without being all weird, seriously, can I? My friend Nicky will flip his shit.”

Laurel laughs and encourages DirtyGurl by posing for picture after picture. I get drawn into it, pretending to be a cowering maiden while Laurel looms over me menacingly from the top step. Once the impromptu photo-shoot is over, we troop into the house. I feel almost guilty asking Laurel to take her boots off, but Daddy really doesn’t like people wearing shoes in the house. She’s gracious about it, though, and seeing her dragon-boots lined up with everyone else’s shoes in the hallway makes me giggle.

Daddy gives Laurel and Jiro a tour of the house while I tie my balloon haul to the backs of the dining room chairs. Everyone gets a dragon balloon plus a chrome balloon or two. Seeing them bob above the table makes me dance inside, even if I’m still too sore to do much more than shuffle as I set out plates and cutlery.

DirtyGurl plants herself at the kitchen island and folds napkins for several minutes. Then she brings a little napkin herd over to the table: a cat, a dog, a horse, an elephant, and even a giraffe. I give her an enthusiastic hug before we set an animal-napkin on each plate.

“Sorry, I don’t know how to make a dragon,” she says, draping her arm over my shoulders.

“I don’t think Laurel will mind. These are so cool. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, babes. All those years of waiting tables should be good for something. How do you know Laurel and her Dom? Theo wouldn’t tell me. He’s in zip-mouth mode.”

I giggle. “Daddy does that, too. He knows Laurel through his work. This is the first time they’ve come up, so I just met her today. I want to be a dragon when I grow up, though.”

DirtyGurl grins.

“We should get all the subbies to dress up as animals and take over Blunts as our zoo one weekend. You can be a dragon. I want to be the Cookie Monster.”

That sets me off giggling again.

“You already are the Cookie Monster,” Daddy says, tweaking one of DirtyGurl’s blue dreadlocks as he walks through the dining area towards the kitchen. “I’ve ordered the food. It’ll be delivered around six. I hope you like goat.”

DirtyGurl rolls her eyes. “I’ve had Cambodian before, sir. There wasn’t any goat, and the rendang was pukka.”

“You’re not allowed to say ‘pukka’ unless you can do it with a proper Essex accent, Yank.” Daddy collects three beers from the fridge and walks back behind us with another tug on DirtyGurl’s hair. “Roll your eyes at me again, and I’ll lend Theo something to smack that attitude right out of you. I’ve got rooms and rooms of things to choose from.”

DirtyGurl and I shiver in unison as we watch Daddy go.

“Your daddy’s evil,” she whispers to me.

“You have no idea,” I whisper back.

“Theo can be evil, too. He’s double-teamed me with Ten a couple of times. Nearly killed me. I’ve never done a scene with him one-on-one, though. I’m kind of nervous.”

I give her a squeeze for support. DirtyGurl looks like she gives no fucks about anything, but that’s just a front. I know all about fronting; until I met Daddy, I’d done it all my life.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?” I ask.

“Both.” She gives me another wide, white grin. “Is there any other way?”

No, not really. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’d love one of those Coronas, but I’d better check with Theo first. If he wants to scene tonight, I’ll stick to water. Be right back, babes.”

She gives me another squeeze before she follows Logan’s steps toward the front of the house.

Daddy returns before DirtyGurl does. He wraps me in a warm hug and kisses my forehead. “Give me a pain number, sweetie.”

“Soft three, Daddy.”

He chuckles. “Three point four?”

“Three point two.”

“Good, I’m glad it’s easing. Are you okay to sit through dinner? I can put one of the soft pillows from the couch on your chair.”

The dining room chairs are already padded, and my bottom’s feeling much better than this morning. So’s my throat, which is the bigger relief, because I hate getting sick. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Theo’s talking about doing a scene with DirtyGurl tonight. I’m going to offer him the use of the playrooms so he doesn’t have to trek back to Blunts, but I’m not up for anything tonight. We can watch if you want to.”

“Whatever you want to do, Daddy.”

He kisses my forehead again and I snuggle into his chest, feeling little and content in my daddy’s arms.

* * *

Dinner’s relaxed, despite the excess of Doms around the table. Daddy casually hand-feeds me but doesn’t put me in High Protocol. Theo takes DirtyGurl into the bathroom before we sit down to eat and returns with a cup of something that I’m really afraid is his come. Crimson-faced and unable to meet anyone’s eyes, DirtyGurl pours a little of whatever it is onto everything before she eats it. No wonder she’s both good nervous and bad nervous. I would purely die if Daddy did that to me. But neither she nor Theo say anything about it, and other than turning redder than a fire engine and squirming in her seat, DirtyGurl carries on conversation like normal. Daddy teases her a little, although not about what’s in the cup, and I’m hopeful that he’s warming toward her, because I’d really like to see her more often.

After doing the plate ritual, I