Page 3 of Daddy's Naughty Author

I laugh as I read the fast and furious messages popping up on my screen. I quickly fill them in on what had just happened. Just like KC had used me as inspiration for his fake girlfriend, I had thought about using him as inspiration in one of my books and now, I would feel justified in doing so. After a few minutes of chatting with the women, I close the window and reopen my current work in progress. It’s time to write—but for once, the fiction on my screen seems a little less thrilling than the story unfolding right outside my door.

CHAPTER 2

Gina: You are not a morning person, RJ.

Liz: At all!

Jessica: Remember the last book signing? Like, if it hadn’t been for Renee, you wouldn't have been set up in time. You overslept by an hour!

The Naughty Girl’s Book Club members aren’t being encouraging this morning. To be fair, they aren’t wrong. I’m not a morning person. Which is why, when KC texted, letting me know something was up at work and requested we go on a coffee date today instead, I’d groaned. I am not and never will be a morning person. There isn’t enough coffee on this planet to make me want to get up before the sun rises. At the sound of the knock on the door, I let the girls know I’m signing off for the morning and rush over to open it.

“Where’s your coat?” He grunts out when I open the door.

“Hey there, handsome. Nice to see you, too.” I step out onto the porch and close the door behind me.

“Where’s your coat?” He demands again.

“It’s a balmy forty-degrees out. Who needs a coat?” Forty in Colorado felt warm and spring-like.

I’m met with a glare.

“Seriously, it’s almost spring. You know Colorado is cold in the morning and warm in the afternoon. I’m good. This sweater is more than warm enough.” I bite back my desire to make a flippant response about my weight and how I have plenty of blubber to keep me warm. Somehow, I know it won’t go over well.

“Layers are necessary in Colorado. I’d feel better if you had a coat.”

Wow. Bossy much? I can’t help but notice how much like one of my made-up book Daddy Doms he is.

“I don’t like coats. They are bulky and feel odd. Besides, it’ll be warm in your truck. Shall we get our first date in the books?”

“So, you aren’t going to go get your coat?”

“Nope.” His response is a half-smirk, half-grimace; a cocktail of amusement and mild exasperation before he concedes and nods towards his truck.

As we walk down the sidewalk, I swear I hear him mumble something under his breath about me needing a damn good spanking. Was it wishful thinking? My imagination working overtime? Before he closes the truck door, he pulls my seatbelt across my lap and snaps it.

“In case you don’t like seatbelts, either,” he says.

“Nah. Seatbelts are great. I don’t mind being restrained.” Did I just say that out loud? Oh, my God! I did. “I mean, safely restrained…I mean they aren’t bulky and —” I better stop while I’m ahead. My mouth gets ahead of my brain entirely too often.

KC breaks the silence a minute later. “I’m sorry about last night,” he apologizes as we head towards the local coffee shop acouple of blocks from our duplex. It’s one I’m intimately familiar with, as I spend hours a week there writing.

“It’s okay,” I answer. “I imagine things come up all the time at work.”

“Not like this. We were training a unit in the field and a sensitive item came up missing. We had to wait around until the private who misplaced his spare barrel found it. Turns out, he never took it to the range to begin with. It was in the arms room the entire time.”

The man might as well be speaking to me in another language. I have zero idea what he is talking about.

“So, someone lost something, and everyone had to stay until the item was found?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Got to love group punishment.” I say. I hate group punishment about as much as I do group projects. One person does all the work or one person’s behavior gets the entire class into trouble. Not exactly fair.

“It’s not group punishment, it's accountability. Can’t let people go who might have it or know where it’s at until we find it.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” It doesn’t make any sense at all.

“The best way I can explain it is like this; police lock down a crime scene because the perpetrator may still be in the building or a witness who has vital information. They don’t let everyone go until they’ve cleared them. That’s what we were doing. Luckily for the soldier, the item was found, and we were able to go on about our business.”

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