Page 22 of Small Town Daddy

I found myself opening up too, sharing stories of helping Grandpa at the hardware store as a kid. The pride in his eyes when I finally mastered the cash register. Our annual fishing trips up at Barrow's Lake.

Then talk turned to more recent wounds. "It was hard when Emily and I split," I admitted, surprising myself with the confession. "I felt like I'd lost a part of myself."

Lucy's gaze held such sympathy it almost undid me. "I'm sorry. That must have been difficult."

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "It was, but it also taught me a lot about who I am and what I need."

She cocked her head, curiosity sparking. "Like what?"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The room felt charged with unspoken tension. Lucy's green eyes searched my face, curiosity mingling with apprehension.

"Well," I began, my voice low, "I realized I need a certain dynamic in relationships. A connection where I can be nurturing and protective."

Lucy tilted her head slightly. "You mean like . . . a caregiver?"

"Yes." I swallowed hard. "I'm a Daddy Dom."

Her eyes widened, but there was no judgment—only intrigue. "Really?"

I nodded, heart pounding. "It's a part of me I hid for a long time. Then I told Emily and she told me she was a Little. But . . . she wasn’t. It’s why we separated in the end. I wasn’t right for her."

“I’m sorry. That must have been so hard.”

“It wasn’t the happiest time of my life,” I admitted with a grim smile.

Lucy went quiet, twisting a strand of auburn hair around her finger. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I think . . . I might be a Little."

Hope sparked in my chest. "I've had a feeling," I said gently. "The way you cherish Mr. Whiskers, how you find joy in simple things—it resonates with me."

She looked down, cheeks flushing. "I've never told anyone before. Well, not anyone except Marie. Not anyone I . . . liked.” She blushed bright red. “I was afraid they'd think I was weird."

"You're not weird," I assured her, fighting the urge to pull her close. "And you don't have to hide who you are."

A tentative smile spread across her face. "It's a relief to talk about it," she admitted. "I've always felt like something was missing."

Affection surged through me. God, she was beautiful when she smiled like that. "You deserve to be accepted for who you are," I said earnestly. "Everyone does."

Her eyes met mine, vulnerability and gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you, Marcus."

I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, electricity crackling at the touch. "Anytime."

After a moment, I stood up, extending my hand to help her. "What do you say we get back to work? You feeling any better?"

She accepted, her small hand warm in mine as she rose to her feet. "I'd like that. I'm ready."

I didn't let go right away, savoring the connection. The air between us felt thick with possibility.

A sharp knock at the door jolted us apart. I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the lingering warmth of Lucy's touch.

"I'll get it," I said, heading for the door.

Marie burst in before I could reach it, her arms laden with an enormous picnic basket. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

"Marcus? What are you doing here?" she asked, a sly grin spreading across her face.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Just, uh, helping with some plumbing issues."

Marie waggled her eyebrows. "Well, I brought food, anyway. Enough for everyone!" She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

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