Daddy's Sweet Girl (Montana Daddies 3)

“Good girl.” He kissed her lightly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

She blinked. “You are?”

Poor baby, she appeared so shocked. Had she not heard that very often?

“None of this is easy. This shit with Max, your house, me.”

“You?”

He nodded. “I know this sort of relationship probably isn’t what you ever had planned and I can be demanding, especially when it comes to safety—"

She reached up and placed a finger against his mouth. “Oh Kent, don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“You’re the one bright spot in my life. It’s the only thing getting me through all this other crap.” She sighed. “I just hope you don’t come to regret any of it.”

He hugged her tight. “I can assure you, I won’t.” Then he glanced at the clock with a low curse. “Abby, you better call your boss. Best to give her as much time as possible to get someone else in. Although she could try doing some of the work herself.”

SHE DIDN’T WANT TO. She wanted to sulk and refuse. But she knew it had to be done. Damn, she hated talking to Gloria, though. She did not take bad news well.

She snorted. “Fat chance of that happening.”

He lifted her off his lap and sat her on the sofa. Ouch! She leaned to the side to take the weight off her sore bottom. Then he stood and walked over to grab his phone off the counter. “Here, use my phone.”

“Um, I’ll just go upstairs. Can I pull my pants up now?”

“You can make the call here. Pants stay where they are.”

She wrinkled her nose then glared at him.

“You can always make the call from the corner,” he said mildly.

She sighed. Then dialed the number for the diner which she luckily knew from memory. Okay, was there a weirder situation than standing half-naked in the kitchen of a man you’d just spent the night with, your panties down around your ankles, your red ass on view, while you called your boss?

If there was, she couldn’t think of it.

“Yo, Wishingbone Diner, Ann-Marie speaking.”

“Hi, Ann-Marie, it’s Abby.”

“Abby-girl, you’re the talk of the diner today. Everybody’s gabbing about how your house got tossed and that you were rescued by that huge hunk of spunk, Kent Jensen. That true? Did he really carry you from your house then take you shopping for a whole new wardrobe?”

“Um, well, that’s not quite true.”

“Oh,” Ann-Marie sounded disappointed. “Figured it w

asn’t. So, what you want?”

“Can I speak to Gloria?”

“Girl, you do not want to speak to her right now. Her panties are in a bunch over all the attention you’re getting.”

She winced. That was just wonderful. Kent raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She shook her head. “Please, Ann-Marie, put her on.”

“Fine, your funeral.”