Page 72 of Wishing Hearts

Giving Harrison a tug, I pull him upright and shove him gently toward the stairs. “Go on. Go rest or do whatever it is you wanna do. And don’t you dare feel guilty about it. There’s nothin’ to worry about. If she needs you, I’ll come get you.”

“Sam, I…” He shakes his head a little, standing near the bottom step.

“Go,” I say again, shooing him.

He takes a single step before halting. I can see the fight in him plain as day.

“Don’t make me redden your ass,” I tell him with a growl.

That earns me a sharp inhale and wide eyes, followed by a slowly blossoming smile. Finally.

“Fuck, Sam,” Harrison says, shaking his head slightly. “That mouth of yours.”

“Mhm. And if you’re good, you’ll get full use of it later. Now get.”

Harrison gives me a brief nod, lips turned up at the corner. “Thank you.”

“You got it. And Harrison?”

“Yeah, Sam?” he says with a chuckle.

“You’re not a bad father,” I tell him again, taking a step closer and resting my hand on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. “When I was a kid, all I wished for was somebody who cared the way you do. Winnie knows she’s loved, all right? She has a great dad. She just wants you to be happy. So, maybe, it’s okay to let yourself be.”

He lets out a breath, lips trembling slightly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay. Now get outta here,” I say playfully, swatting Harrison’s ass. “I don’t wanna see your gorgeous face ’til lunch time.”

Harrison shakes his head, but he finally ascends the stairs. I turn toward the back door, my chest so very tight.

When I get outside, Winnie is sitting on the patio bench, swinging her legs. Tigger is beside her on the cement, looking out over the yard. Both heads swivel my way as I approach.

“Heya,” I say, stopping beside the pair. “Your dad is takin’ a break, which means I could prob’ly use a hand gettin’ this treehouse built. What’cha say? Know of anybody who can help?”

Winnie squints at me. “Daddy said I can’t use the tools yet.”

I figured as much and wasn’t about to let Winnie do anything that could inflict any damage, but I still tell her, “Thanks for bein’ honest about that, Winifred. I appreciate it. Think you could hold a board for me instead?”

She watches me for a moment longer, waiting for a catch. Apparently not finding one, she springs into action, jumping up and racing over to the oak tree. With a smile, I follow.

It’s one o’clock when Winnie and I head inside for a late lunch. With the little girl’s assistance, I finished the floor of the treehouse and attached the sides we already made that fit around the limbs of the sprawling oak. Now, it just needs a roof and a ladder. Although I have an idea for the roof I want to run by Harrison. Something that would let Winnie look up at the stars like she wanted.

Winnie is a right mess when we step inside the house, and I briefly debate having her clean up first. But, in the end, I figure a little dirt never hurt anybody. I still tell her to wash her hands in the sink, though.

While she’s scrubbing the dirt from her nails and I’m putting together sandwiches, Harrison joins us in the kitchen. I don’t notice him at first, not until he’s wrapping his arms around me from behind and placing a kiss against my neck. I rumble happily, settling my clean hand over his arm.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his stubble rasping across my skin. He breathes deeply, and I know I probably smell like sawdust and sweat, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Of course,” I say, twisting my head toward him. He kisses my cheek. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Mm.” He nips my ear lightly, and lightning shoots down my spine. “Horny,” he whispers.

I nearly choke on my spit. Definitely feeling better, then.

“I volunteer,” I whisper back.

Harrison shakes against me. He places one more kiss beside my ear before stepping back. I blow out a deep breath, attempting to rein in my excited dick. Sandwiches, I remind myself. We’re making sandwiches.

“Have a good morning, Pumpkin?” Harrison asks his daughter.

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