Page 17 of Daddy's Heart

“Yeah. I know.”

Pause. “What do you mean, you know?”

“I mean it’s me, baby girl.”

“You’re following me?”

“I’m escorting you. There’s a difference.”

“Like a good and proper stalker should.”

“What? You think I’d let you drive up a mountain in a storm by yourself? Not happening.”

“You could have just told me you were in town. I would have come to the station. I told you I would.”

“I like seeing you in my house. Besides, too many eyes and wagging tongues at the station. One thing most people don’tknow about law enforcement, they love gossip almost as much as they love coffee.”

The soft snicker that comes through the speaker squeezes around my heart.

“Now, just pay attention, I’ll be right here.”

By the time she pulls into my driveway, the rain’s coming in sideways and the trees are bending like they’re ready to snap. I’m out of my truck and on her before she even kills the engine.

She bolts for the steps, but she’s soaked through before she even makes it halfway. I grab her around the waist and haul her under the overhang.

“Jesus, baby girl.” She’s trembling, jacket plastered to her body. “That got bad fast.”

I drag her inside, grab a towel from the hook, and wrap it around her shoulders. She’s shaking like a leaf, water dripping off her lashes. Her wet clothes cling to every soft curve, every inch of her that I’ve been trying so damn hard not to touch.

“You’re not driving back down tonight.” My dick clearly takes control, sick and tired of my cock blocking him from the one girl that’s put him on high alert in years.

Her head jerks up. “What?”

“Look outside. The road’ll be a washout within an hour.”

She stares at the window like she’s trying to find a reason to argue. Trees are bent horizontal. Rain’s smacking the glass hard enough to rattle it.

“I can’t stay here.” She shakes her head, her hair falling out of that crazy bun on top of her head, framing the face I want to decorate with my cum.

“Why not?”

“I just... I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, no—”

“I’ve got clothes. One bed, but I’ll take the couch.”

Her cheeks flush. “Colt—”

“Not a request, baby girl. You’re staying.”

Thunder crashes overhead, so loud she jumps.

“Hey.” I close the space between us, steadying her. “Just noise.”

“I know.” Her voice is soft. “Storms make me nervous.”

It’s more than that. I can see it in her eyes. In the way her arms are wrapped around herself, tight like she’s holding something in.

I don’t push.

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