Page 47 of Johnny Gun

Soon after he’d told her about the attack on the clubhouse, her sweet interlude in Johnny’s arms came to an abrupt end. To her shock, a pragmatic and distant man replaced the warm and charming Daddy she’d fallen in love with. Speaking in a humorless tone he’d never used before, he sent her to square away her belongings, which took about… Oh, a whopping fifteen minutes.

While she futzed around with her things, Johnny inspected the house and grounds, then she heard him in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors and shuffling pots and pans. She could only guess he was familiarizing himself with the setup and checking supplies.

An hour or so later, he’d asked her to join him in the kitchen. She was surprised at his cooking ability. He’d put together a nice brunch, consisting of a simple but delicious cheese omelet with a side of cut strawberries and melon. But not once did he ask for her help or try to find out what she liked to eat. When she sat at the table, something about his stern attitude informed her she should finish the last morsel on her plate.

Following the previous pattern, Johnny didn’t allow her to pick up or help him wash the dishes. At this point, she wanted to rail at him. She wasn’t a spoiled, useless girl. Since she’d been very young, her mother had trained her to help around the house, and Isolde enjoyed being useful. She offered anyway. Johnny listened without an argument until she finished, which was worse.

Quietly, he led her to the living room, turned on the TV, and after surfing around different channels, he turned to the comedy channel and left her alone. He returned later with Mr. Bubbles, put her rabbit in her hands, and walked out.

Isolde went from staring at the TV to the wall. His silence and the strange distance were killing her. What had happened to the expressive man who wanted to show her pleasure, the Daddy who’d explained so well his feelings for her?

“You are…so beautiful. And I… I love…love…everything about you.”

Lord, the emotion in him had been so vivid, she’d trembled listening. His words would forever be embedded in her soul.

Now, she feared the worst. Had she lost him? Pushed him away? Was he gone forever from her?

Prompted by an uncomfortable anxiety, she’d left the living room and searched the house. She found him outside, at the back end of the porch, sweeping the wooden floor. Her keen eye didn’t lie to her. There was no dust to speak of; the management agency had left the rental property spotless. So what was he doing?

Using any excuse to stay away from her.

But why?

She stood, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Eventually, he paused sweeping and glanced up with a bland smile. Before she could ask what was wrong, he spoke first. “We need supplies, but I’m kinda too beat to drive into town. I’m ordering pizza for dinner. What do you like on yours?”

At least he’d extended beyond monosyllables to sentences.

Isolde fought the tears burning her eyes. “Cheese and pepperoni work for me. Thanks for asking.”

Turning on her heel, she went back inside. She couldn’t figure out the change in him, and she was done struggling. Later, she ate the pizza slices he served her without a comment, then, after dinner, she went straight to her bedroom and fell asleep talking to her cherished Mr. Bubbles. At least her stuffie listened.

But now, as she stood from her bed, she felt stronger, energized, and way more determined thanks to a decent night’s rest. Whether Daddy wanted it or not, she was prepared to wave the red flag and seize the bull by the horns when it charged her way.

As Isolde walked down the hallway, she saw him in the kitchen. Sipping his coffee, he stared out the side window with an absent expression. Great opportunity to surprise him.

She reached the threshold, and he stopped sipping. “Good morning.” With uncanny timing, he spoke before she could.

Isolde let out a breath. “Same to you.”

Isolde caught the flash. Lasted a brief moment. Barely there. His expression shifted from aloof to hesitation. Her heart jumped… But he recovered and shut down again. Didn’t matter. He could pretend until the end of days. She saw it. Damn him, she saw his doubt.

For whatever reason, Johnny had adopted a change in behavior, afar cry from the man in her Dalton bedroom, the affectionate Daddy he’d revealed to her.

Isolde wasn’t taking this without a fight. She’d had a taste and craved the whole man. He couldn’t ask her to let him go, any morethan he could ask her to give up chocolate cake. Once you’d had a small bite of heaven, your taste buds would ask for more forthe rest of your life. Same thing with Johnny.

As she sashayed close to him, he narrowed his gaze. Had he guessed her strategy? She could tone it down a bit.

“That coffee smells divine…Daddy,” she said, with emphasis on Daddy.

“Um, have some.” Blinking, he stepped back too quickly, reached for a mug on the counter, and then brought it up between them like a shield.

Gotcha, Daddy.

She’d ambushed him with her seductive walk and tone, and it worked. No matter how good this new act was, he still wanted her. However, it was important to slow down a little. Being too obvious would push him back into his cave.

Isolde gave him a few inches of space as she picked up the carafe and filled her mug. His eyes glued to her, he didn’t speak or move. Time to add a little pressure. Isolde stood in front of him and brought the mug to her mouth. Locking her gaze with his, she slowly parted her lips in an anticipatory move, then licked the rim before she sipped a tiny bit and swallowed.

“Good coffee,” she murmured, running the tip of her tongue over her lips.

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