Her Daddies’ Saving Grace

by Laylah Roberts

  “On it.”

  Where were they going? Hey, this was her house. Cool. They were going up the stairs? And he was carrying her.

  Whoa. He was strong.

  She continued to suck and lightly chew on his fingers. A feeling of contentment ran through her. Sure, it could be the booze. But she was pretty sure it was Brick.

  He’d claimed her. In front of everyone.

  People in Wishingbone took that seriously. She hoped he did too.

  Suddenly, they came to a stop. She looked around. This wasn’t her room. They were outside one of the spare bedrooms. Was this the one he was sleeping in?

  But she wanted to go to her room.

  “Duchess, you listening to me? Look at me.”

  Uh-oh. She got the feeling he might have been trying to talk to her for a while. She drew her mouth away from his fingers to smile up at him.

  “Jeez, you’re a lightweight, baby.”

  She wondered why she’d never taken up drinking before. This was fun. Then again, it might not be fun without Brick watching over her.

  “Hey, listen to me. You want to stay with me in my room?”

  She shook her head. That would be a no, rubber-ducky.

  “You want to go to your room?”

  Ten-four, rubber-ducky.

  “Okay, easy, you keep nodding like that, and your head is going to fall right off the end of your neck.”

  She giggled. That was just silly.

  “I don’t want to leave you on your own, though.”

  Sleep-over! She’d never had one of those.

  “Your brother said we weren’t to go into your rooms unless you were in danger. You sure you’re okay with me in there?”

  Why wouldn’t she be? Silly. She pointed towards the stairs then tightened her thighs around him.

  “Are you trying to ride me like a horse?”

  Ooh, now that was an idea. She wondered if she had something that would work as a bridle?

  “I don’t like the look on your face. Fuck, I hope this isn’t a bad idea. Just in the morning, try to remember that you insisted on staying up here.”

  They reached her door and she leaned over to put the code into the keypad.

  “Juliet, are you sure?” he asked, turning her face to his. “I can get someone else here to stay with you if you don’t want me. What I can’t do is leave you on your own.”

  She wiggled in his arms and he set her down, holding onto her hips. He was always so careful with her. Yet, at the same time, he was the first person in so long to treat her as though she wasn’t some delicate mess.

  She was sure that was how Xavier saw her. This mess he had to keep cleaning up.

  Don’t think about him. That’s not fair to Brick.

  Guilt filled her and she turned towards her door, pushing it open.

  Something niggled in the back of her mind. Some reason she hadn’t wanted Brick in here.

  But that wouldn’t come to her. Because she’d just remembered that she wanted to try flying. She was certain she had a cape in here somewhere. Stumbling forward, she sat on her beanbag with a plop and tugged off her shoes. Then she crawled over to her costumes space. Reuben had bought her this large mirror that had lights around it. It looked like it had come out of some old-school Hollywood dressing room.

  Hell, maybe it had.

  There was a make-up table in front of it with play make-up. Next to it was a spacious wardrobe filled with play outfits. She found a superhero cape after about a minute of looking and attempted to tie it around her neck.

  “Duchess?” Brick asked in a low, quiet voice.

  Oh. How had she forgotten he was there? Whoopsie! She spun around then held the cape out to him. She shook it when he didn’t immediately take it.

  “You want me to put the cape on you?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Juliet, you sure you want me in here with you?”

  Why did he keep asking that? And why wasn’t he putting the cape on her already? She pointed at the cape then at her neck.

  “All right. Why do you want the cape on?” he asked as he tied it. As soon as it was on, she put her arms out and started to run around the room. “You want to fly?”

  There was something in his voice that she couldn’t work out. She gave him a thumbs-up.

  “You know you can’t actually fly, right? You’re just pretending.”

  Hm, but was she? Or could she fly, but she simply hadn’t accessed the part of her mind that would let her do that?

  She raced to the double doors that led to the patio and unlatched them.

  “No.”

  Suddenly, Brick was there, reaching across her to lock the doors.

  She glared up at him.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a firm look. “No.”

  She stomped her foot.

  “Still no.”

  What a party-pooper. Maybe it was a bad idea to have him here. He was cute, though. In a really masculine, sexy way.

  And the way he filled out a pair of jeans? Hallelujah. She wondered if he’d let her squeeze his butt again.

  “Why do you look like you want to eat me?” he murmured. “Duchess, it’s time for bed.”

  What? No way.

  She pointed at the door.

  “No, you’re not going out there.”

  She narrowed her gaze. He wasn’t the boss of her.

  “I don’t like the look on your face. Let me make that clear. Touch that door and you’re in trouble, baby girl. I’ll smack your bottom until you completely forget about flying and put you to bed on your tummy.”

  They stared at each other before she looked away. Drat him.

  “Come on. Show me where your bed is.”

  But she didn’t want to go to bed. She let out a pitiful sigh and gave him her best sad look.

  “If you’re a good girl and get ready for bed, I’ll read you a story.”

  She thought about that. On the one hand, she really wanted to try her new-found flying skills. They were going to be epic. But on the other hand, Brick did have this really sexy voice. And when he read to her, she got chills all through her body.

  Okay, she supposed she could go flying tomorrow. That skill wasn’t going anywhere. She slid her hand into his and she led him into the bedroom.

  He stilled and took in her bed as she moved to her bookcase to choose a book. Ah, there was another favorite book of hers. It was by CJ Bennett, about a Little with three daddies. Juliet wasn’t sure she could handle one Daddy, and this girl had three riding her butt. And smacking it. A lot.

  Turning, she found him running his hand along the top rail of her bed. She gave him a curious look.

  “Haven’t seen a bed like this. Looks comfy and safe.”

  She handed him the book.

  “Right. I thought you might want a fairy tale or something. But this makes more sense.”

  She didn’t know what he was talking about. She needed to get changed. She grabbed her pajamas and headed towards the attached bathroom.

  “Do you need help, Duchess?” he asked.

  Help? Why would she need help? She stumbled into the doorway with a giggle. He came over and steadied her.

  “I think I should help you.”

  There was some reason why that was a bad idea, but what was it? She hummed a tune as he helped her pull the dress over her head. She noticed he kept his gaze averted as he handed her a pajama top. She was just wearing a camisole with a built-in bra, since her boobies were like two fried eggs. Nothing much to see. She slid on the satin, long-sleeved pajama top over her camisole. But didn’t do up the buttons. Then he held out her pants for her to step into.

  “Hold onto my shoulders.”

  She grasped hold then put her feet in, grabbing the bottoms to pull them up.

  Oops, she had to pee. She moved towards the toilet.

  “I’ll wait in the bedroom.”

  She peed, washed her hands and brushed her teeth, then clumsily made her
way back into the bedroom. Brick was waiting there with some painkillers and water, which he insisted she take.

  Then he led her over to her bed. Crawling into it, she climbed under the covers and grabbed her pacifier with her favorite blankie attached.

  But when she put it into her mouth, it just didn’t have the right feel. Something started to build in her tummy. A nervousness that she couldn’t pin down. Something was wrong.

  She shuddered out a breath.

  “What’s wrong, Duchess?” Brick sat next to her bed on a bean bag he’d dragged over. He looked kind of funny, like he was about to topple out of it at any moment. She guessed they didn’t make mountain man-sized beanbags. Or maybe they did, she just didn’t own one.

  She let out a frustrated noise because she had no clue what was wrong. But she was starting to feel anxious, and if she didn’t do something about it, then it was going to turn into a panic attack.

  Brick slid his arm through the rungs towards her.

  He didn’t resist as she grabbed his hand and sucked his fingers into her mouth. That was better.

  And as she suckled on his fingers, he read to her in his deep, gravelly voice.

  Sleep came surprisingly easy.

  Xavier moved around the grocery store in a tired haze.

  After two delays with his flights, he’d gotten home late last night. His parents had tried all sorts of things to get him to stay. He was starting to think Reuben was right. That his mother faked an illness to get him to come see them. And then they’d hatched some plot to lure him there by dangling poor Yvonne in front of him.

  Now, he was headed out to check on Juliet. It had been too late to go there last night, but he wanted to bring her something. Flowers. She liked flowers.

  “Xavier? You okay?” He looked over to find Ed staring at him in concern. “I said your name and you didn’t reply.

  Shit. “Yeah. Sorry. Hi.”

  “Been at the hospital?”

  “No, I went to see my parents for a few nights and got back late last night.”

  “Hi, Xavier,” Georgie said with a smile as she walked towards them. “I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

  “I’ve been out of town.”

  She turned to Ed. “Sorry that took so long, I got stopped by three different people who wanted to know who the guy with Juliet in the Wishing Well was last night. People around here sure do love gossip.”

  “Small town living,” Ed replied. “Most people here live for gossip. And a guy laying claim to one of our own is big news. Even bigger news when it’s the town’s sweetest, quietest, gentlest resident.”

  Xavier felt like his world narrowed around him. Like everything else turned blurry. His heart raced, palms grew sweaty.

  “What happened?”

  Ed gave him a curious look. “You didn’t hear already?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Guess if you got home late, you wouldn’t have,” Ed said.

  “Heard what?” he asked between clenched teeth. If someone didn’t start talking, he was going to lose it.

  Ed crossed his arms over his chest and Georgie sent her fiancée a strange look. Yeah, he was drawing this out. And Xavier had a fair idea why.

  “You snooze, you lose,” Ed told him.

  Georgie’s sharp gaze turned to him as she caught on to what he was saying.

  “Are you saying that Juliet has a . . . has a . . .”

  “Boyfriend?” Ed supplied helpfully.

  “I don’t know if I’d call him her boyfriend,” Georgie said doubtfully.

  Hope filled him. So, it wasn’t like that?

  “He’s not the type of guy you could label a boyfriend,” she added. “More like a man. He’s Juliet’s man.”

  “Hm,” Ed said. “I agree. Juliet’s man.”

  He could feel his blood pressure spike. There was a ringing in his ears. “Juliet’s man?”

  “That’s what he claimed to be,” Ed said. “Well, no, that’s not quite right. He told the whole bar that she was taken when Loki proposed to her.”

  “Loki proposed to her?” How long had he been gone for? What was even happening right now?

  “He only wanted her to join Loki’s Warriors for the quiz,” Georgie explained, obviously taking pity on him.

  Right. That explained that part. But who the fuck was this guy claiming his Juliet in the damn Wishing Well? He’d seen her a week ago. How could she have met someone? Juliet, who couldn’t speak to people she didn’t know and trust well. She still wouldn’t talk to Georgie, and she considered her a close friend.

  “Who is it?” he asked in a strangled voice.

  Ed gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t know?”

  “Know. What.” Seriously, he was going to deck Ed if he didn’t tell him what the fuck he knew.

  “He’s a bodyguard, someone Reuben hired to protect her,” Ed told him.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Why the hell hadn’t Reuben told him? Why hadn’t Juliet? He was going to spank her ass so hard she wouldn’t sit for a week.

  Fuck. No, he wouldn’t. This was Juliet. Besides, it wasn’t like he had the right to do that.

  “Reuben hired a bodyguard because he’s paranoid or . . .”

  “He thinks there’s some sort of threat,” Ed added. “There are three bodyguards. I don’t think this is some paranoid delusion of Reuben’s.”

  It was all starting to make sense. Reuben calling him because he was worried about Juliet. Her anxiety attack. Shit. Shit.

  Okay, so there was some threat, something Reuben thought was credible enough to hire bodyguards for Juliet. But that didn’t explain why this bodyguard guy was claiming Juliet as his. Was it so Loki would back off?

  “Maybe he was just trying to protect her from Loki.”

  “Protect her by claiming that she was taken?” Ed mused. “I suppose it could be possible, if it wasn’t for what he said afterward to her. The way he held her hand or picked her up, or she squeezed his butt.”

  His Juliet wouldn’t do things like that. This had to be some weird joke.

  “Although she was a bit tipsy,” Georgie added. “I hope she’s okay this morning.”

  “Wait. She was drinking?” She shouldn’t be drinking on her medication. What was she thinking?

  She needed him. He’d fucked up. He’d failed at his job to take care of her.

  “Where are you going?” Ed called out as he turned and walked out of the door.

  “I’ve just remembered I have somewhere I have to be.”

  17

  Dying.

  She was dying.

  This was the end. An end to a short life. Her head throbbed, her mouth was dry, and her stomach was rolling. Why did people drink? Really? How was this fun? This wasn’t fun. Sure, it had seemed like a good idea last night . . .

  What exactly had happened last night? Had she been playing the drums at some stage? She remembered hitting something. And squeezing something firm and high.

  Oh no. Had she squeezed someone’s ass? And why did she think she could fly? She couldn’t fly. That was ridiculous.

  Please don’t tell me I tried to fly last night.

  With a groan, she rolled her over and opened her eyes. She tensed.

  Oh no.

  No. No. No.

  This couldn’t be happening. This was some sort of dream. Because there was no way that Brick Sampson was lying on a beanbag next to her bed, sleeping.

  Because that would mean he was in her bedroom. And she was lying in her cot-bed. With her pacifier and blankie lying next to her. That he’d had to walk through her playroom to get into her bedroom.

  And that definitely hadn’t happened. She’d remember if something like that happened.

  So, this was all just a bad, bad dream.

  Sitting up, her head throbbed and her stomach rolled.

  Sick. She was going to be sick.

  Juliet quickly scrambled for the opening of her bed and managed to get to her feet, stumbling in
to her attached bathroom to land heavily by the toilet. She heaved, her body shaking violently. She abhorred throwing up. She sobbed, tears clouding her vision as her stomach revolted.

  A warm hand landed on her lower back, making her jump.

  “Easy, Duchess.” His voice both warmed and horrified her. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this.

  He’d seen her bedroom, her bed. Lord knows what she’d done while she was drunk. How irresponsible was it of her to drink? This was her punishment. Being violently ill in front of the sexiest man alive. Then having him turn away from her after discovering one of her biggest secrets.

  “It’s all right. Let it all out. You’ll feel better afterward.” He had her hair pulled back from her face.

  Gross. Gross.

  When the heaves stopped, he eased her onto her bottom and leaned her against the wall. She curled up into herself as she heard the toilet flush.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up. Look at me.”

  No way. She had to smell like booze and puke. She disgusted herself. And she couldn’t bear to see that look on his face. He just needed to go.

  “Duchess. Look at me,” he repeated firmly.

  This time, she managed to ignore the order. A sigh escaped him. This was it. Now, he would leave. And she could crawl into her bed and die.

  There was the sound of running water. What was he doing? Taking a bath?

  “Right, Duchess, here’s the thing,” he said in a no-nonsense voice. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I know you’re feeling miserable. Been there, done that more times than I care to admit.”

  What? He’d humiliated himself in front of someone that he was attracted to?

  “Guessing you’re also mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it.”

  What was he talking about? He wasn’t sorry about spending the night with her in a beanbag?

  “Telling people you’re mine, it felt right. We can still go slow. But I want people to know you’re mine, and I’m sorry if you don’t want—”

  She raised her hand and tried to cover his mouth. But his muttered curse had her lifting her head sharply.

  Her head protested the movement. Not a good idea.

  Chagrin filled her as she saw the way he cradled his eye. Shoot.