Page 9 of A Little Christmas Jericho
He wasn't freaked out? Running for the hills? Blocking my number? He even called meboy.
My thumbs shook as I hovered over the keyboard. What was I supposed to even respond to that? Pretend I'd had an epic autocorrect fail?
Or... bear with me here... should I just beg him to call me boy again? Or even better... Good boy?
Instead, like the absolute coward I apparently was, I locked my phone and threw it across the bed. "Fucking hell, Jericho," I muttered into my hands. "What the heck have you done? Now we have to face him in a few hours.”
***
By the time I pulled into the vet's parking lot, my stomach was a whole knot of nerves. My hands clutched the steering wheel long after the engine had gone quiet. Maybe if I sat here long enough, and held on to the wheel tight enough, I could stop time and never have to face Colter and what I'd called him.
I still couldn't believe I'd texted a man I barely knew and called him Daddy.
Even more surprising—and anxiety-inducing—he seemed to like it!
My brain had replayed our pitiful exchange over and over so many times I felt like the actual words had lost all meaning.
What if he didn't like it? What if hepretendedto like it all so he could confront me face to face? Maybe punch me into next week...
I forced myself out of the car and into the waiting room. The whoosh of the glass door was followed by the jingle of the bell above it. The receptionist—not the same bright face from last night—smiled brightly, waving me over to the desk to check in.
But I barely heard her greeting or introduction becausehewasright there!
Colter stepped out from the back, clipboard in one hand, a leash slung casually around his neck. He filled the doorway like one of those thirst-traps online. All broad shoulders, neatlytrimmed beard and deep blue eyes that seemed to stare right into my soul.
My knees wobbled. For real.
I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the inevitable fallout from my epic mistake this morning.
"Jericho," he said warmly, striding closer. "Perfect timing. I've just finished going over the test results."
What was this?
No awkward silence. No pointed remarks or calling me a freak.
He actually sounded pleased to see me.
Doctor Daddy really was into what I called him.
"Hi," I croaked, my voice breaking like I was a thirteen-year-old boy again. I cleared my throat and tried again. "H-hi."
Colter's mouth tipped into that half-smile that did dangerous things to my insides. And cock. "Relax," he said, voice pitched low and calm. "You look like you're about two seconds away from bolting. Everything's fine. Your babies are okay. And—" his eyes glinted, and his grin spread, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, "You'regoodtoo."
My heart stuttered. Heat climbed up my neck. And there was a definite stirring in my pants.
He really, really, really was into what I'd called him.
Oh. My. Goodness!
Colter held the door to the back open for me, and I shuffled past, clutching the strap of my bag like it was a lifeline.
"All right," he said, flipping through the chart on his clipboard as I perched nervously on the little stool. "First things first. You'll be glad to hear all the tests came back clear. No toxins, no signs of poisoning. Everybody's systems look good."
Relief whooshed out of me so hard I nearly slumped right off the seat. "Oh, thank goodness!" I pressed a hand to my chest. "I was so worried. I mean, I knew I was probably overreacting, but—"
"You weren't," Colter interrupted, firm but kind. He leaned his hip against the counter, those sharp blue eyes cutting into me with quiet intensity. "You did exactly what you should have. A lot of people would have brushed it off, or waited too long. You put their health first. That's what makes you a good caregiver."
The wordcaregivermade my pulse hiccup. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to focus on the pamphlets scattered across the counter.
