The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“Daff was very chatty at breakfast this morning. She said something about Mason Carlisle?”

“Daff was up for breakfast this morning?” Daisy asked, stalling and genuinely surprised. Her sister always took full advantage of the weekends and never missed the opportunity to sleep in, especially after a night out.

“She was just coming home, I think,” her father said with a shrug. Ah, well that made more sense. “So . . . Mason Carlisle?”

“We were just talking.”

“And he’s the one you’re seeing tonight?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“The whole world has seen him in his underpants,” her father muttered, and Daisy’s lips twitched. Of course that would be the first thing on her father’s mind. “What kind of man parades around in his underwear in public?”

“He’s also a decorated soldier,” she reminded him.

“Then there was that nasty business with him and that drug addict pop star last year.”

“That was just rumors.” Daisy hoped. There had been speculation in a number of the gossip rags that a certain pop princess regularly did drugs with her bodyguard, after which they had depraved orgies.

“Hmm, Tim Richards still insists to this day that the Carlisle brothers were the ones who vandalized his store twenty years ago.” This town had a long and unforgiving memory.

“He never had any proof of that, Daddy,” Daisy said, and her father shrugged again.

“So do you like him?”

“Daddy, he’s a friend. Well, more like acquaintance really. Nothing more.”

“You know I only want what’s best for my girls.” So why was he okay with Lia marrying Clayton? She knew her father didn’t like the guy and she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t revealed that to Lia. She was about to ask him when he drew the van to a stop outside her house.

“Be careful around that man, sweetheart,” her father said. “He has seen and experienced things that you can’t even begin to comprehend. And all that war and death can do irreparable damage to a man’s psyche. I doubt he’d be great boyfriend material.”

His words made Daisy pause. Mason seemed as well adjusted as the next guy, but her father was right, the man had seen combat, and Daisy had to wonder how much of Mason Carlisle’s affability was just a front.

“Don’t worry, Daddy. Nothing’s going on between us.” It was sweet that her father would even think that a guy like Mason Carlisle would have any romantic intentions toward Daisy. She was vanilla and he was decadent fudge with roasted almonds, caramel swirls, chocolate sprinkles, and a cherry on top. But her father was her father, and he thought his daughters were all beautiful. The fact that Daisy was his not-so-secret favorite made him even more protective over her.

She leaned over and planted a kiss on his craggy cheek.

“Have fun with Mom and the girls tonight. I hear they’re fine-tuning the place settings. It’s going to be a big night.”

He grimaced comically.

“Why do you get to sit out of these things?” he groused, and she laughed.

“Because I have ‘nothing of value to contribute,’” she quoted good-naturedly. She had deliberately cultivated that image early on, knowing her sisters and mother would inevitably start leaving her out of any and all wedding planning. Suggesting pizzas for the menu and trifle for dessert had been the last straw as far as Lia was concerned.

“If you can’t be serious about this, then I don’t see how having you here is of any benefit at all.” Lia’s complaint after Pizza-gate. And that had been that. Daisy was included in the bridesmaids’ stuff but now thankfully managed to avoid anything else wedding related.

“If I resorted to your dirty tricks there’d be tears and hysteria.” Her father sighed, and Daisy grinned.

“Face it, old man, you’re in it for the duration. Have fun.” She grabbed her bag and left the car with a cheeky salute. She watched him drive off before turning back to her house. Immediately the situation with Mason Carlisle sprang to the forefront of her mind again. She wouldn’t call it off. She’d meet him and tell him face-to-face to forget about her stupid idea.

It seemed like the mature thing to do. Just a shame that her stomach was flipping around in crazy circles at the thought of seeing him again and this time without the comforting filter of a nice alcoholic buzz to bolster her courage. She couldn’t very well be tipsy every time she saw him, and without that little bit of so-called Dutch courage, she feared she would become a tongue-tied moron around him. Just her usual self, really.

She sighed as she let herself into the house, picking up her excited dog as she made her way to the living room.

“Did you miss me, Peachie Pie?” she asked her dog, in what she knew was an obnoxious high-pitched baby voice, but she was quite unable to help herself. “Did you miss me? Peachie Pie wants some walkies? You do, don’t you?”