Page 310 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
Mac’s surprisingly helpful when it comes to packing and in less than ten minutes, we’ve each got a bag of clean clothes, my sketching supplies, his books, and a carrier of groceries out of my fridge that Mac says will spoil if they’re not used in the next day. It’s not that I don’t believe him; it’s just that tortilla chips don’t spoil that fast. I suspect there’s an ulterior motive to Mac packing them that has nothing to do with spoilage and everything to do with Emily’s super-healthy menu.
“Emily is not going to let you make nachos, Sir,” I say as I lock my apartment door.
“Ah, I have a plan.” In the dim emergency light of the hall stairs, he looks so devious. And so fucking handsome. “You’re going to distract Em while Logan and I make the world’s fastest nachos. She won’t take them away once we’re eating.”
“That’s super-sneaky, Sir. What if I refuse to assist this subversion of Logan’s cholesterol reduction?”
Mac chuckles. “Depends on whether or not you want another orgasm tonight.”
Damn, evil Dom. I mean, I’m sore but I’m notthatsore.
“I could need Em to sit for me while I sketch. Upstairs in her little room so she doesn’t smell what you guys are getting up to in the kitchen.”
“That sounds like a plan, girl.”
That is the plan. And Emily’s a sweetheart as she sits still on the day bed in her little room, cuddled in the embrace of her massive teddy bear while she holds one of her dinosaurs in her lap and I sketch the three of them, without a single complaint, even when the smell of melted cheese drifts up the stairs. She’s such a perfect model that I feel bad about the ruse and release her as soon as I’m sure they’ve had enough time to start eating.
As I trail her down the stairs, I crack. What happened to shiny Brenna? Mac’s making me into melted chocolate Brenna, I swear.
“Em, I didn’t really need to sketch you. Mac wanted to make nachos.”
She giggles. “I know. I looked in the bag when he brought it into the kitchen. Daddy likes to feel he’s getting away with sneaking food that’s bad for him and as long as it’s just a treat, that’s okay. His cholesterol level isn’t that high.”
“You knew? You-you?—”
“Rascal?” Emily supplies.
“Definitely. I did get a nice sketch of your face, though. Mind if I use it in a tattoo?”
“Go ahead. I like the idea of being on someone’s skin. It’s kind of an ephemeral permanence, isn’t it?”
Only Emily would call a tattoo an “ephemeral permanence,” but I get what she means.
She pauses at the bottom of the stairs and looks up at me. “Bren, Daddy said Master Ten was really mean to you when you resigned, and you looked so upset when you came in afterwards. Are you really okay?”
I curl my fingers at her and when she comes to me, I give her a big hug. “You’re a sweetie, you know that?”
She blushes as she returns the hug.
“I really am okay. Ten can be an asshole when he tries, and he was trying hard today.” I still haven’t told Mac about Ten’s tantrum. I was so overwhelmed by the loss of my club collar and Mac offering me his it slipped my mind. But it’s something I will tell Mac, because Ten really did scare me and I want Mac to understand if I avoid Ten for a while. “How did your daddy hear about it?”
I can’t see Ten calling Logan for moral support.
“Master Chess called him.”
That figures. I wonder if Chess heard us. If so, he didn’t do anything about it, even after Ten ignored my safe word. Sourness twists briefly in my belly but I shake it off. Nothing truly bad happened.
“It just makes me more certain of my decision,” I tell her as we start walking towards the great room again.
“And that’s Master Mac’s collar now?” She nods at my neck.
I brush my fingertips over it fondly. “It is. This is a temporary one. He’s having one engraved for me. Wonder what it’s going to say?” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
She giggles. “Something dirty.”
“Definitely something dirty.”
The smell of cheese and hot corn chips envelops me as Emily opens the door. I hope Mac made plenty because now my stomach is reminding me how long ago lunch was.
