Page 30 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
"The bar?—"
"Has Susie and will survive without you. I’d already arranged it with her when I’d planned on surprising you tomorrow." He grabs my purse, keeping one arm around me. "I'm driving. Your car can stay here."
"Bossy."
"You have no idea." In the better light of the hallway, I can see how exhausted he looks. He continues, "did you know I've been awake for thirty-six hours? Trying to wrap up that disaster so I could get back to you?"
Guilt swamps me. "Jason…I…"
"The only thing that kept me going was knowing I'd see you tomorrow. Imagine how I felt finding you passed out on your desk, in what I am assuming yesterday's clothes, literally making yourself sick with neglect."
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are. And once you’ve been spanked, we put it behind us. I’m not going to make you feel guilty or hold you accountable for anything you’ve already paid the price for." He opens the passenger door of his car. "But, I am also going to put steps into place to make sure it doesn’t happen again. We're going to work on this. Together. Building better habits, better communication, better trust."
"Why?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "Why do you care so much? We've known each other for a couple of weeks."
He cups my face again, his eyes serious. "Because in those weeks, you've become essential to me. Because I've been looking for you my whole life without knowing it. Because you're mine, Karen Mitchell, whether you're ready to admit it or not."
"That's crazy."
"Probably." He smiles, soft and sure. "But it's also true. Now get in the car. Let me take care of you."
I get in the car. Let him drive me to his rental. Let him make me a sandwich and watch me eat every bite. Let him run a bath and wash my hair with gentle hands. Let him tuck me into bed like I'm precious.
"Stay," I whisper as he turns to go to the spare bedroom for the night.
"You need sleep."
"I need you more."
He studies me for a long moment, then kicks off his shoes and slides in beside me, fully clothed. I curl into him immediately, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"I'm sorry I worried you."
"I know." His arms tighten around me. "We'll work on it. Building better patterns. Learning to lean on each other."
"What if I'm too broken? Too set in my ways?"
"Then I'll love you through it." Simple. Certain. "Every stubborn, beautiful, maddening inch of you."
"You love me?"
"Getting there." He presses a kiss to my hair. "Falling more every day. Especially when you call me Daddy and trust me enough to let go."
"I love you too," I whisper into the darkness. "Or I'm getting there. Falling fast."
"I'll catch you," he promises. "Always."
And wrapped in his arms, sore in the best way, cared for down to my bones, I believe him. For the first time in five years, I sleep through the night.
CHAPTER 8
Small towns have their own special brand of cruelty, wrapped in concern and delivered with sweet tea and a side of “bless your heart.”
It starts small.
Whispers when Jason and I have breakfast at Barbara's. Raised eyebrows when he picks me up from the bar. By the time two weeks have passed since his return from Chicago, the gossip mill is in full production.
