Page 331 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Mom, they hurt my feet. Brenna doesn’t care. Do you, Brenna?”
“No.” I could stick my Docs out and wiggle them under Amy’s nose, but I’m afraid she’d combust. “It’s your room. You should be comfortable.”
Amy narrows her eyes at me. “You would think that. Are you even old enough to drink?”
I scoff at her. “Get real.”
“Brenna owns her own business,” Naomi tells her mother. “And she doesn’t have a college degree.”
“Of course not,” Amy sneers.
“Amy, enough,” Mac says quietly as he enters the room. “Naomi, I think it’s time Bren and I head back.”
“Oh.” Naomi sits up. “Already? Brenna and I were just getting to know each other. You’ll come back next weekend, right?”
“Definitely. I’ll take this and work on some designs,” I say, waving the sticky note. “Just give me your email.”
I pull out my phone, open a new contact, and hand it to Naomi. Under her mother’s baleful glare, Naomi types in her contact details, including her cell number.
“Text me when you get back to the City, okay?” she asks.
“I will. I’ll video call you so you can see my shop.”
Naomi gives me an unfettered grin that cracks my heart because it contains all of the child she was. Mac’s daughter. Smart and lively and happy. Before the treadmill ground her into this sad, dull skeleton of a person.
I hold out my hands, cautious about pushing this new connection, but Naomi moves into my arms immediately and gives me a warm hug.
After Naomi releases me, Mac moves in and gives his daughter a long hug that leaves tears in both their eyes when they part.
“I’ll call you tomorrow at our time, kiddo,” Mac says as he pecks a kiss onto her sunken cheek.
“Okay, Dad. I love you.”
Mac staggers and I jump out of the chair to steady him. “Sir, are you okay?”
He nods and swallows hard before leaning back over to crush his daughter in another hug. “I love you, too, baby. I loved you before you were born, and I’ve loved you every minute of your life, and I’ll still love you when we’re both stardust again.”
“Bye, Dad. Drive safe.” Naomi cracks a smile as Mac releases her. “Speed kills, you know.”
Mac blinks back tears and manages a wry smile. “It does. I’ll go slow if you do.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Dad.”
He presses another kiss on her forehead before putting his arm around me and walking me out of the room.
I cry all the way back to his bike. I can’t help it. Mac doesn’t try to stop me, and I feel like I’m crying for him, too, since he can’t seem to let it out. He doesn’t say anything as we reach the bike, just hands me my helmet, swings on, and waits for me to climb on behind him.
“We’re going back to the motel,” he says, his voice thick.
We checked out before going to the IHOP, but I’m not going to question him. “Yes, Sir.”
He wheels the bike around and drives us the ten minutes back to the hotel. I’m quiet, trying to gauge his mood, as we walk into the motel reception and he books the room we were in for another night. When the manager tries to say the room’s not ready, Mac waves it away. “We’ll take it now. They can clean it after check out tomorrow.”
“Okay, mister, if that’s what you want.”
“I do.” Mac pockets the key and takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything more as we return to the room, which is still looking as rumpled as we left it. As soon as we’re through the door, he’s on me, slamming me back against the wood, tearingoff enough of our clothes to get inside me. He’s a storm: bruising kisses and nipping teeth and pinching fingers and brutal thrusts that bang me into the door so hard my teeth rattle. I just cling to him until he comes with a groan and a rictus that looks more like a grimace of pain than pleasure.
“I’ll take care of you in a moment, girl,” he pants as he drops his face into my neck.
