His Rules (Love, Daddy 3)

Anxious, maybe? Something is off. As always, he’s cloaked in his reserved calm, but I feel something vibrating just under the surface.

I turn to watch him, his eyelids closed, his face serene, his breath held. It seems like the whole world is silent. Then he opens his eyes and turns away, looking out the driver’s window, the Jeep humming below us.

“I’ll be right back.” The sound in his voice matches the pained look on this face as his hand moves from the steering wheel to the door handle, jerking it upward. “I just need a second.”

A moment later and he’s out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me sitting there wondering what the heck is going on. He’s never been like this before. Never out of sorts or ill at ease.

I look down at my outfit, wondering if something about me is unsettling for him. I know he likes the shoes because he gave them to me. I’m wearing a gauzy white skirt and the T-shirt from the thrift store. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing too revealing.

My heart is thundering in my chest as I turn to watch Rueger walk around to the back of the Wagoneer, hoping he isn’t sick or he isn’t going to tell me we can’t go for some reason. His hands grip the back of his head as he walks, then one moves to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he stands still, breathing heavily.

Something is definitely wrong, and I have a horrible feeling I might know what it is: these afternoon outings are beginning to wear on him. I mean, he’s got his huge company to run. I have no idea what kind of pressure that puts him under. What the heck is he doing spending so much of his time with a nobody like me? I Googled him. His company, Viking Ventures, is not on the Fortune 500 list, but it’s up there.

Not to mention I’ve spent a few devastating internet searches looking at photos of Rueger at events with a stunning brunette on his arm and a few blondes in older photos. I’ve saved myself from the humiliation of digging too deep into who he is or who they are. Not wanting to pop the bubble of my fantasies about him. He’s told me he’s never been married. No kids, but still that little voice inside my head sometimes chirps at me. Reminding me that the world is full of liars.

Flames light up my cheeks, and I have to turn away. The little part of me that still held a fantasy about being more than just a PR opportunity begins to disintegrate inside my heart.

One last glance back and he’s stepping up onto the sidewalk on my side of the car. I hurry and grip the door handle. If I get out and tell him maybe it’s time we stopped these little adventures, at least I’ll leave here with a sugar packet-full of my ego intact.

I swing the door open as Rueger steps up off the curb, his eyes narrowed and locked on to me. I’m climbing out, trying to act as nonchalant as possible while my heart thunders around inside my chest. I have to be first. I have to get my words out and run before the inevitable letdown I feel coming at me like a runaway train.

“Hey, I think we should maybe not go today—”

Before I get the rest of the words out, my feet tangle, and as if in slow motion, I crumple onto the cement of the sidewalk, going down headfirst like a comic high-diver, hands shooting out to break my fall.

I yelp as the heels of my palms smack and scrape across the pavement at the same time as one of my knees, rasping hard as gravity and momentum finish the job.

“Shit,” I grunt, my face only an inch away from the grit. I can’t even pull myself up to rescue any dignity I have left because my other foot is stuck in the air, the enormous loop of my shoelace caught on the position adjustment control on the side of the passenger seat.

“Jesus, Lex.” Rueger is right there in front of me in a flash, crouching down to the sidewalk, his hands gently running up and down my body. I’m sure he’s only feeling for injuries, but his touch is leaving fire and lust all over my skin. “Are you okay?”

His voice turns hard, pained, as I wince and push up on my hands, trying to right myself and failing. Humiliation washes over me in waves, mixing with pangs of nausea. My legs are spread apart and my body twisted like a pretzel, hair hanging in my face and stuck between my lips.

Just how much I have fallen for this man swells up inside me, and in the next second, tears are burning my lower lids, threatening to spill over.

“I’m fine.” My words escape in a harsh stab, because I need to be mad right now. I need to not care. It’s the only way to keep me whole. But I’m losing, I can feel it. A tear fights its way from the corner of my eye and streams down my cheek like a tiny, traitorous river.

I flip my head the other way so some of my hair falls to cover the humiliating tears.

“Hold on.” He growls, and through the rainbow tint of the hair in my eyes, I see his long arm dart out to free my shoelace from the metal bar where it’s looped. “I’m so sorry, Babygi—”

He stalls on the cutoff last word, and I stop breathing.

Babygirl? Did I just hear that right?

He clears his throat as he eases my foot down from the car.

“I think maybe the zoo isn’t such a good idea,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and figure out how to breathe. “I mean, I’m really busy and I know you need the PR, but maybe you should find another girl to—”

“PR? Is that what you think this is? Some sort of PR opportunity?” His voice is thick with tension and a low, bubbling anger.

His hands are under my arms, helping me to sit up. Then a moment later, they come down softly to smooth the errant fabric of my skirt back down my legs. I hadn’t even noticed it was flipped up over my hip, showing off white panties covered in a variety of Valentine candy hearts.

As well as the wet spot between my legs.

“Hold still.” His voice is gentle again as he rises up, his body bridging over to open the console between the car seats before he comes back with a small white box clutched in one hand. He settles back into a crouch next to me. “I’ve got Band-Aids. Let me see those hands.”