Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

She paced up and down the motel room.

How the hell had tonight gone so wrong? She’d gone to Reaper’s to tell Spike about the risk and she’d completely failed.

Not that it had been entirely her fault. After all, the man hadn’t exactly wanted to listen to her.

“So rude,” she said to Mr. Fluffy who was stretched out on the new dog bed she’d bought him.

Before going out tonight she’d gone to the pet store and bought one or two things for Mr. Fluffy. Just a bed. And those puppy pads for toilet training. Food. And some toys. A couple of outfits, because they were too irresistible to ignore.

Maybe she’d spent a bit more money than she’d intended. But they were all necessities.

Well, perhaps the blue and white onesie pajamas he was currently dressed in was overkill. But it almost matched her own onesie that she was wearing, so how could she resist?

She may also have taken a few selfies of the two of them and sent them home to Mrs. Spain.

Speaking of home . . . with a groan, she pulled out her laptop and brought up Skype. It didn’t take long for them to pick up on the other end.

Millie had to smile as five people crowded into the shot. Happiness filled her, pushing aside her anxiety.

“Hi, guys. You didn’t all have to stay up so late to talk to me.”

She settled on the bed. Her onesie was one she’d sewn herself. It was pale blue with white stars on it and had a hood with white ears. She’d also added a detachable tail and a drop seat so she didn’t have to pull the whole thing off to pee.

Overall, she thought it was damn cute.

Sewing was her stress reliever. She made most of her clothes and all of her Little outfits, like her onesies and her skirts and dresses. She rarely wore pants or shorts.

Doug had told her that she was too big to wear those outfits. That she looked ridiculous dressed up like a little girl.

But Doug isn’t here anymore. And after he’d broken up with her, she’d pulled all her old outfits from storage. She didn’t wear them in front of anyone else. Well, except for the onesies, but they could pass for pajamas.

And they were like a security blanket to her. They helped soothe her when she was stressed.

“Hello dear,” Mrs. Spain said. She frowned slightly. “You look upset. Harold, doesn’t she look worried?”

Her husband peered into the computer. He was near-sighed and almost completely deaf. “I can’t hear her speaking,” he yelled.

“That’s because she’s not saying anything, you old fart,” Mrs. Spain replied.

Millie had to bite her lip as the pair of them started arguing.

Yeah, she missed this.

“Hush, you two, poor Millie can’t get a word in.” Mrs. Larson shushed them all. “Millie, dear, are you all right? How is your mission going?”

“Not so great,” Millie told them. She explained everything that had gone on, including going to Reaper’s bar to find Spike tonight. “I left without telling him about the threat.”

“I am not sure it was a good idea to go to a bikers bar alone, dear,” Mrs. Spain said worriedly.

“There were other women there.” How nice would it be to have friends like the women she’d met tonight? “But I wish I’d been able to warn Spike.”

“Sounds to me like he didn’t want to hear what you had to say,” Reverend Pat said. At seventy-three, he was the youngest of the group.

“Reverend Pat are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She’d just never seen him look so relaxed. “Have you done something different with your hair? You look younger.”