Page 23 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
When I turn to her, I spot her pressing her cherry red lips together in a tight, indecisive line.
Her eyes flick between us all, like she’s trying to weigh what she should say against what she actually wants to.
The hesitation only fuels the little theory that’s growing in the back of my head, that Carson’s invited her up here because he was hoping to get lucky.
I had to hand it to him, she’s incredibly pretty and completely out of his league.
Not to mention younger than any girl he’s ever gone after before.
Finally, her lips part.
“My dad paid me pretty well. And I don’t really mind cleaning like this. It helps me decompress.”
“Your dad?” Reece blinks, confusion knitting his brows together.
He glances at me and Jack, his expression suddenly sharpening as a thought clicks into place. “Wait. Hold up. Is your dadCarson?”
She blinks then nods, her expression growing a little guarded. “Yeah…”
The three of us just…pause.
There’s a beat of silence that falls over us, long enough that the only sound is the wind whistling through the chimney and the occasional hiss from the fire.
Well, shit.
So much for my damn theory.
Jack is the first to recover.
“Smells better in here than it ever has. Thanks for cleaning, though you didn’t need to make the place look this nice for just us.”
He flashes her a kind smile, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling slightly.
Holly returns it but it’s tight, almost polite in the way you give a stranger the same look when they hold the door open for you.
“It’s no problem. He also asked me to bring some treats for you guys. They’re in the kitchen. All fresh baked and everything.”
“That man’s never brought us so much as a stale donut on these trips… Guess we’ve been missing out,” Reece mutters, standing up front his crouch and brushing his hands off on his jeans.
Jack disappears into the kitchen, a low whistle caring back a moment later.
“Holy hell. Look at these. Gingerbread, sugar cookies…is that a Yule log?”
Holly’s cheeks flush a faint pink.
She tucks a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.
“I—yeah. Just some extra stuff from the shop.”
“Your shop?” I ask, tilting my head.
She hesitates then nods, that guarded look returning once again. “Yeah. I run a bakery back in town.”
“Well, thank you for bringing it all,” I tell her just as Jack is returning to the living room with a cardboard box in his hands, brimming with perfectly iced cookies and the glossy chocolate-rolled log cake.
The sweet smell hits the air instantly, all cinnamon sugar and butter, cutting through the woodsmoke cleaning.
Reece’s hand shoots out toward the box, freezing mid-grab when I shoot him a look. “What?”
