Page 31 of Daddy Defender
Chapter 11
Bodie
“It’s no luxury hotel, I’ll say that,” Henry says, hands on his hips. “But it’ll do the job…”
The new safehouse is a total downgrade from the last one, but I’m not complaining. It’s a rickety beachside shack, all salt-stained wood and creaky floors, sitting so close to the ocean I can taste the spray.
Shred’s parked under a tarp, my surfboard still strapped to the roof, taunting me—begging me to whip it off and run with it down to the waves.
I lean against the shack’s wobbly railing, Poot tucked under my arm, and let the waves’ rhythm calm my nerves.
After the diner, the drive, and Vince’s dark shadow creeping closer, this sea air feels like a hug from an old friend. My fingers twitch, itching to grab my board and paddle out, to let the water wash away the fear knotting my gut.
Just ask Henry if it’s cool.
There’s no reason why not.
One little surf will be fine, right?
Henry’s already in full-on guard dog mode, pacing the sandy path around the shack, his eyes scanning the dunes like he’s expecting Vince’s goons to pop up any second.
He’s all muscle and focus, that black tee clinging to his chest in a way that makes my knees feel weak, the scar above his eyebrow catching the sunlight.
Ugh, why does he have to look so good?
It’s messing with my head, especially after the way we flirted at the diner made my Little side all warm and fuzzy. I shake it off, hugging Poot tighter. There’s no way I’m falling for another guy, no matter how Daddy he acts.
“Hey, Henry,” I call, keeping my voice light, like I’m not freaking out inside. “This place is kinda cool. The ocean’s right there. Like,literallyright there. So… can I surf? Just a quick sesh? Waves look primo.”
My surfer boy side is buzzing, craving the freedom of the water, the one place Vince can’t touch me. Surfing has always been a real release for me, the one time in my life that I’m ever truly free. I guess Little Space is like that too, but there’s something extra special about riding the waves, hard and fast but also in a total flow state like nothing or no one can get in my way.
I really, truly, super-crazy want to get in the water right now. I know it’s exactly what I need. But does Henry?
Henry stops dead, his dark eyes snapping to mine, all serious and unamused.
“Surf?” Henry says, like I just asked to moon a cartel boss. “Bodie, we’re not on vacation. Vince’s people are out there, and you’d be a big neon sign on that water. Listen… I’ll think aboutit, maybe later. But right now, my job’s keeping you breathing, not chasing waves.”
My pout cranks up to eleven, and I stomp my foot, sand flying.
“Chasing waves?” I spit, my face reddening with anger. “Surfing’s mylife, Henry! I’m not some kid you can lock in a box. I’ve been shot at, dragged around, and I’m done sitting still!”
My voice cracks, all my frustration spilling out.
I get that Henry’s protecting me, but the ocean’sright there, and being told no feels like Vince’s still winning.
Henry steps closer, towering over me, his calm Daddy vibe making my stomach do stupid flips.
“You’re not locked in, Little One,” Henry says, that nickname hitting me hard again, all warm and melty. “But you don’t call the shots. You keep pushing, you make this harder. Chill, or we’re gonna have a talk you won’t like.”
I glare, fists balled, my Little side torn between wanting to obey and wanting to scream.
“Talk? You’re the one making this suck! I’m not your prisoner!” I rage. But even as I snap, that secret part of me—the one that sparked during the spanking—likes Henry’s calm but firm control, and it pisses me off.
I spin away, stomping toward the outdoor shower by the shack, muttering about bossy Daddies.
If he won’t let me surf, I’ll show him I’m not some good little boy who follows orders…
“So I can’t go in the ocean,huh?” I say, my temper bubbling up and my eyes wild. “I guess I’ll just surf right here!”
