Page 75 of Their Little Helper

Was he texting from the bathroom at his parents’ house?

Made it. You ready?

Ready for what?

I must’ve stood looking at the screen longer than I’d thought because a message from Santos popped up.

He hasn’t explained that we’re outside waiting for you, has he?

Oh.

No.

I was the one texting them one sec that time as my brain started working again and I mentally walked through the closing checklist as I headed to the door to lock up. It took longer than I wanted because I went over it twice just in case. I did my job really well but I didn’t usually close on my own and I was tired.

Big me was tired.

Little me was tired.

Work me was tired.

Work me was also frustrated that I had to hire someone again.

Technically the owner should be doing that but he called himself an old fart and liked going on vacation more than he liked working. So our deal was that I would do most of his job as long as I didn’t have to work full-time hours.

There they were.

As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, Daddy’s head popped out of the back window of what had to be some kind of ride share. “Santos was worried about you walking home alone and about how long you’d worked and his list kept getting longer, so I decided to make him happy by coming to get you.”

Papahad been worried?

Before I could process all of it, Papa pulled Daddy back into the car. “Don’t tell him that. You’re the insane one.”

I was pretty sure that described them both and I was glad everyone at work had already left, so I could smile and shake my head at them. It seemed like I had two worrier Doms that didn’t like me wandering around by myself at night.

Papa played it off better than Daddy had as he climbed out of the back driver side door. “You come sit back here, Harley. I’m going to sit up front and then we’ll head home. I think I underestimated the size of the car we’d need.”

To his house?

To my house?

Did it matter?

No.

“Okay.” I managed not to call him Papa in front of the driver but it got even harder when Papa kissed my cheek as he walked past me to the front of the car. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Papa.

I kept that in my head, though.

He smiled like he knew it and even winked as he squeezed my arm. “Dally is obnoxious when he worries.”

Yep, Daddy was the only one who’d been worried.

He was so worried that he was grumbling about drama queens who repress their emotions when I finally slid into the back seat of the fancy car that Santos had clearly ordered. Daddy managednot to complain about Doms or boys or say anything BDSM related on the drive back, though.

He was too busy grilling me about work.

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