I laughed and shook my head, holding up my hands. “It’s your ranch,” I said, knowing that he wasn’t actually planning on going through with any of these harebrained schemes.
“Our ranch,” Trethan said firmly. Then, he cocked his head to the side, coming around behind me and wrapping his arms around me, resting his hands on my stomach. “Our ranch,” he repeated fiercely.
“Our ranch,” I agreed quietly. Then, I laughed a little. “I guess before the baby is born, I’ll need to give you a run-down of all the mischief that a kid can get up to when growing up on a ranch like the Lazy J.”
“You never struck me as the kind of girl who got up to a lot of mischief as a kid,” he said, sounding amused. “What’s the worst thing you did? Kick over a pail of milk?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I said, shaking my head. “I can tell you a lot of the stories, but I’m sure Dad has a lot of tales he’d love to tell you about my delinquencies, as well.”
“I look forward to hearing them,” Trethan said. “And even more than that, I look forward to seeing what this kid gets up to that we could never even imagine him getting up to.”
I smiled and tilted my head back for a kiss. “Me, too,” I agreed. I paused. “He or she is going to be a very lucky little kid,” I mused after a moment. “Growing up there on the ranch, surrounded by a loving family. You may think you’re the luckiest man in the world, but I suppose that growing up like I did and finding you as my man, maybe I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”
Trethan kissed me gently, his hands lightly stroking over my pregnant stomach. “I guess maybe you are the luckiest woman in the world,” he agreed.
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DADDY NEXT DOOR
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Vivie
I switched the station when the opening riff of Guns 'n' Roses' Sweet Child O' Mine hit my ears. It had always been one of Dad's favorite tunes — one he played on guitar a lot and one he'd sang to me as a kid. It didn’t matter that he'd been gone for four years; not a day went by that I didn't miss him or think of him. And something like that song remindin
g me of everything he’d been as a dad and how he loved me; it was just too much to take after the day I’d had. Not to mention, I sure as hell didn't want to break down and start crying in the middle of five o' clock traffic.
I kept one hand on the steering wheel as I flipped between stations, stopping on a local talk show where the radio host, Arthur Valley, was interviewing a local detective. I pricked my ears and fine-tuned the radio so I could hear more clearly; crime stories always fascinated me, and it sure wasn't as if we had many crime sprees here in Irvine. So, my interest was piqued.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to the show, Sam,” Arthur said. “I want to point out to our listeners that 'Sam' isn't our detective's real name; he needs to remain anonymous since he is working undercover, and if his identity is discovered, that would put Sam in serious danger.”
“That's true, Arthur,” said the man. “I deal with some very unsavory people on a daily basis.”
“And that, ladies and gents, is why we've also put a filter on Sam's voice. He doesn't actually sound like Darth Vader in real life.”
I chuckled at that. The guy did sound a lot like Darth Vader was coming through my speakers.
“Unfortunately, no, I don't,” Sam commented with a laugh. “But how cool would it be if I did?”
“Well, why don't we get started? First of all, thanks for coming on the show today, we really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to be here with us.”
“Not at all, Arthur. The residents of Irvine need to know what's happening behind closed doors in this town, and some of it ain't pretty… it ain't pretty at all.”
“What exactly is going on here in Irvine that's got you working undercover?”
“I’m afraid we've got a problem here, Arthur. No, not just a problem: a crisis. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that. We have a serious, serious problem affecting our youth,” Sam said.
“What is this problem?” Arthur asked.