Page 13 of Off-Limits Daddy
“Hey,” I said. “How’d you even get there so fast? I mean… the alarm barely went off before you were walking through the door.”
Reid’s eyes crinkled with that warm, quiet smile that always got me. “Had a weekly delivery to make at the Santanas’.” He shrugged. “Some things just line up when they’re meant to.”
Yeah, I knew the Santanas. They’d been a staple in this small town since forever. But something tugged in my chest—hard and sharp and full of ache. He said it so casually, like it was just timing, just errands, just one of those things. But I felt it somewhere deep, in that place where I’d tucked every wish I’dever had about him. Where I still kept the hope that maybe, one day, I’d mean as much to him as he’s always meant to me.
My throat went tight.
“You just happened to be dropping off a delivery when Jon decided to light the place on fire?”
“Briar Creek’s not exactly a metropolis, baby.”
The ‘baby’ was casual. Dangerous. Like he didn’t even know it made my pulse skip.
“Still,” I muttered, “feels like fate.”
“Or maybe I just keep showing up for you.”
That shut me right up. Mostly because my knees were back to being useless again.
But also because… yeah. That was it, wasn’t it?
He always showed up. Even when I didn’t ask. Even when I didn’t know I needed it.
Even when I didn’t knowhowto ask.
My chest went tight in the best kind of way. I couldn’t find words big enough to hold the feeling. So I just stood there, heart hammering like I was sixteen and he’d just glanced my way.
Reid’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good night.”
It wasn’t a dismissal—it was a promise. Adare. Laced with that bossy, quietDaddyedge that made my skin tingle.
I swallowed hard.
Smiled slow.
“Sure,” I murmured. “Sleep tight, hero.”
Then I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, heart thudding like I’d just touched something holy.
Because maybe I had.
FIVE
REID
Rolling down the two-lane highway, the engine hummed steadily beneath us. No sirens now—just tired silence filling the cab. Sweat dried stiff under the collar. Ash clung to skin and gear like we’d picked up a second coat somewhere along the way.
Marco sat in one of the jump seats behind me, slouched with his elbows braced on his knees, helmet off, hair sticking damp to his forehead. Behind him, Griff and Boone rode quietly, helmets off too, postures gone loose the way they always did after a wildfire. Not sloppy—just wrung out. Everyone knew the drill: you gave everything to the fire, and then you took the ride home slow.
We’re not on duty anymore. Not exactly off, either. Somewhere in between. That’s how it worked in a place like this—protocol strict when it mattered, relaxed when it didn’t.
Marco broke the quiet first. “Remember what I told you?”
I didn’t even bother turning around. “Told me what?”
“That Ari was trouble.”
My jaw locked tight before I could stop it because I knew what he was referring to.
