Page 1 of Daddy's Little 1

ChapterOne

Brenna

The wheelsof my pink and black suitcase clunk against the steps as I follow behind my dad. I nearly trip and stub my toe through my gladiator sandal. With a hiss, I look down and silently curse the marble floor.

Dad looks back at me with his signature dimples as he grins. "This is why I offered to carry all your things, Bumble,” he says, using the nickname he gave me when I was a kid. “I swear you could trip over fresh air."

I glare at him as he chuckles and turns to ring the buzzer.

Of course, he’s only joking with me, teasing me for my lifelong clumsiness. Thanks to my dad’s loving and supportive parenting, I'm a happy, confident person, but I’ve always lacked coordination. And that weakness always wins out.

The door opens, and I stand ramrod straight with a smile on my face as I see him.

Roman McKay.

I can’t remember a time when my dad's best friend wasn’t in my life. He’s always been around. It didn’t faze him that my dad became a dad so young while the two of them were in college. Dad met my mom when they were both seventeen, and that was it. True love. Then, my mom discovered she was pregnant when they were eighteen. They were married and had two blissful years together after my birth until my mom died in a car accident. Drunk driver. He survived. She didn’t.

I don’t remember her. Well, perhaps vague memories of her warmth and softness and the scent of roses. But that’s it. Dad doesn’t like to talk about her much because it’s still too painful all these years later. So most of my information came from Roman, who knew her well.

Dad raised me while he went to college and passed the bar. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but not once has he felt like an absent father. I’ve always been loved, if a little lonely. He’s my hero.

I know my dad’s had the odd discreet relationship since my mom died, but he’s never introduced me to any of them. Truth is, he’s never recovered from her death. She was his one true love, and so far, no other woman has measured up. So it’s been the two of us for as long as I can remember. And Roman, who’s also been a constant in my life. Roman has been by Dad’s side through thick and thin. He’s seen me with pigtails and gaps in my teeth. He’s seen me as a teenager, with puppy fat and volcano zits.

But I’m twenty-one today. I’m officially an adult now. Or that’s what I like to think. I’m sure most twenty-one-year-olds would be celebrating by getting shit-faced and waking up in a pile of their own puke. But I don’t have many friends. My best friend, Alice, moved to Chicago with her family a year ago. We still talk every day, but it’s not the same.

Dad always invited his friends on my previous birthdays. When I invited my classmates, they got super intimidated by all the hotshot lawyers and political figures he represents, so I stopped asking them.

Dad still considers me a little girl he needs to protect at all times. Which is why this business trip has caused him endless amounts of guilt. He didn’t want to leave me, and he’s been trying to get out of this UAE meeting for weeks, but Christmas with his daughter means very little to the company he represents on the other side of the world.

So, I'll be spending my birthday and the entire holiday season with Roman.

Alone.

Talking of…

"I was afraid you weren’t going to make your flight on time," Roman says to Dad as he opens the door wider, allowing us to step inside.

As usual, the rest of the world falls away as I look into his green eyes set in a masculine face. His dark hair is slightly long and curls over his collar, and his trim beard only enhances his sharp jawline. Oh, to run my hands through those silky midnight strands. How would it feel like to have that beard tickling my skin as he buries his head between my thighs? And let’s not forget the Scottish brogue he’s never quite lost despite his years on this side of the pond. Yeah, Roman McKay is the epitome of everything I want in a man.

As soon as I cross the threshold, he takes my suitcase from me in one smooth movement. "Let me take that, lass."

I nod, trying not to meet his intense gaze again. I don’t want my dad to see the emotions swirling in my eyes for his best friend. One look at those emerald green orbs, and I may melt into a puddle of hormone-infused goo at his big feet.

I need time to wrap my head around being in his house like this.

And I need a plan.

“Just a bit of a packing mishap," Dad says as we follow Roman down the hall.

Roman grabs my other suitcase from Dad and takes them to the room I’ll be using during my stay.

Dad reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze, communicating his worry and guilt through that simple touch.

"C'mon, Dad," I say as I pull him in for a hug. "Stop worrying, or you'll end up with even more gray hairs."

He pulls away and feigns shock. "I do not have gray hairs."

"Then, what’s this, James?" Roman asks as he comes back down the hallway. He winks at me and yanks a piece of Dad’s hair.

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