Page 55 of Daddy Defender
The ocean’s rumble is faint outside, a steady lullaby, but my heart’s doing flips, and it’s not just from last night’s stuffy beach party with Richie or the bedtime story that sent me drifting into Little Space.
It’s him.
Henry.
The big, grumpy Daddy who’s got me all twisted up, my Little side glowing and my grown-up side scared of what my heart is trying to tell me.
I hug Poot tighter, his worn fur soft against my chest, and let myself admit it: I’m falling for Henry…
Hard.
Like, wipeout-on-a-ten-footer hard.
The way he watched me surf, the way he held me after that crazy-hot moment in the living room, his promise to protect me from Vince—it’s all too much and not enough.
I want more.
Henry’s gravelly voice calling me “Little One” and that Daddy look in his dark eyes make me feel safe, seen, like my Little side isn’t something to hide.
But there’s a knot in my gut, heavy as a rogue wave, whispering that this can’t last. Henry’s a Guard, a black-ops badass who lives for danger.
Once Vince’s dealt with, once I’m not a mission anymore, he’ll leave.
He’ll head off to some jungle or desert, and I’ll be just a memory, a surfer boy he saved and kissed senseless—if I’m lucky.
Urgh. I’m overthinking. I know I am.
“Stop it, Bodie,” I mutter, burying my face in Poot’s fur. “Don’t be a dummy.”
But the fear’s there, sharp and real. I trusted Vince, let him in, and he used my Little side against me, threatened to expose it to keep me trapped.
Henry’s different—I feel it in my bones—but what if I’m wrong again? What if I let myself fall, call him Daddy for real, and he’s gone before I can paddle back to shore?
Billy’s staring at me, his sunglasses all judgy, like he’s saying,Get it together, boy.
I sigh, tugging Henry’s t-shirt—still draped over me from last night—closer to my nose. It smells like him, salt and something warm, and my Little side hums, wanting to stay in this bubble forever.
But the grown-up part of me knows today isbig.
Henry’s got a plan to trap Vince, something about the pier and Shred as bait, and it’s gonna be dangerous. I need to be brave, not some lovesick kid mooning over a Daddy who might not stick around.
And luckily for me, I think that I’m about to be pulled out of my overthinking before I get any deeper…
“Bodie! Breakfast, Little One!” Henry’s voice bellows from the kitchenette, deep and warm, pulling me out of my spiral.
My heart does that stupid flip again, and I giggle despite myself, my Little side perking up at his call.
I roll out of bed, scooping up Poot and Billy, and pad barefoot across the creaky floor, Henry’s t-shirt swamping my frame like a cozy extra-large beach towel.
The kitchenette smells like coffee and something sweet, and there’s Henry, standing at the counter with his back to me, his black tee stretched over those shoulders that could probably carry Shred single-handed.
He’s flipping pancakes—actual pancakes, not just jerky or gummies—and there’s a plate of cut fruit, a jug of juice, and my grape soda, because of course he remembered.
My chest tightens, warmth spreading through me.
Henry’s so calm, so steady, like Vince’s men and this whole mess are just another Tuesday. It’s exactly what I need.
“Morning, Daddy,” I say, the word slipping out soft and natural, my Little side taking the wheel. I blush, clutching Poot, but Henry turns, his dark eyes softening, a smile tugging at his lips. “Umm, I mean… Henry.”
