Page 283 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Sure. Lo and I were going to do a pony scene with the girls this afternoon, but there’s no rush.”
“He’s bringing his sub. I bet he’d love to join in if you’ll have them.”
“If Lo’s okay with it, I am.”
“Great.” Harry claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll text him and let him know.”
“Thanks. I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
Maybe this is an opportunity to find a more accepting band of brothers. I’ll be open to anything the fellow has to say.
We return to the table and Brenna looks a question at me. I kiss her temple to let her know everything’s okay. She picks up one of appetizers off her plate and offers it to me. Looks like a tiny, deviled egg on a thick, round cracker. I obligingly open my mouth, bite off half, and nip her fingertips before she withdraws them.
The heat hits my sinuses like a grenade blast. I manage to chew and swallow with only a small cough before drowning the heat with several gulps of water.
Brenna grins at me while chewing her own half.
“How much hot sauce did you put on that?” I growl.
She picks up a little bottle of red liquid from near her water glass and eyeballs it. “Less than a teaspoon, Sir. Too hot for you?”
“No.” Fuck, yes. I may never be able to taste another thing. “Bring that bottle with you when lunch is done. I’ll find a use for it later.”
Bren gulps and nudges the bottle around behind her glass with her finger.
“Mmm, not so funny when the tables are turned, is it, girl?”
“Worth it for the look on your face, Sir.”
“We’ll test that theory later.”
“Sir.” She toys with a pile of cucumbers and shredded onion that looks similarly tampered with, her eyes following the motion of her fork, not meeting mine. “There’s a thing tonight. Some of the house subs are going. It’s just drinks. Maybe two or three hours. It’s just, it might be my last chance to go as a house sub.”
We talked about her taking a hiatus from the club, but not about it being a permanent break. That she’s looking at it that way makes warmth bloom in my chest.
I slide my hand over her shoulder and under the fall of jewel-toned dreadlocks that she’s left long and loose today. I cup her nape and rub my thumb up and down the long tendon in the back of her neck. “Are you asking for permission to go?”
Her shoulders drop an inch. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I’m very pleased with you. You have permission. I’d like your company afterwards but if you’d like a night off, I’ll head over to Logan’s.”
She’s shaking her head, her dreadlocks brushing over my forearm, before I even finish. “I don’t need a night off, Sir.”
I lean in and kiss her temple. “Good to hear. Gimme a bite of something that won’t strip the lining off my damn tongue.” She forks up some pulled pork and gives me a big bite. After I enjoy its smoky sweetness, I ask, “Where’re you convening for drinks?”
“We start at a bar called Chicklets about three blocks from here and usually end up in the nightclub.”
“That’ll work. We’ll meet you at the bar in the nightclub when you’re done. How d’you feel about bourbon, girl?”
“Never tried it, Sir.”
“Mmm, you can try a sip of mine and if you like it, I’ll treat you to a glass. That means no scening tonight. It’s potent stuff.”
Her eyes finally rise to me and she gives me puppy eyes that would have done Pop’s spaniel proud. “No sex?”
“Didn’t say that. We might have to try something really crazy, like vanilla.”
Bren chuckles. “Hard limit, Sir.”
