Daddy's Fiery Little (Wounded Daddies 5)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Vanessa

Oh!

That man makes me so angry, so absolutely angry I could explode. What in the world makes him think he can just order me about like this? What in the world makes him think that I need him to boss me around like some kind of…some kind of…?

I can’t even think about what it’s like.

Why in the world would he just keep telling me, “That is enough,” like some smug jerk? All he had to do was tell me he was watching the girl and Michael because Michael was sweet on her. That was all he had to do!

I stomp right through my dressing room and into the apartment, slamming the door shut. Of course, I get even angrier after that because slamming the door doesn’t do a damned thing for me. He can’t hear it in the club.

I tear off my dress and the rest of my clothes and head into the bathroom. In short order, I stand under very hot water, as hot as I can handle, soothing my temper until I can think straight. I don’t believe anybody on Earth has ever made me as angry as Micah makes me on a regular basis.

The thing I really don’t understand is that I like him a lot.

I really, really like him.

I don’t like him despite the way he makes me angry. I like him because he makes me angry. No man has ever been able to handle me, and I can’t blame the men who gave up. From the moment any relationship gets past one or two dates, it becomes a contest of wills with me. Some men stick around, thinking they have a chance to win the battle.

Of course, they don’t.

My longest relationship lasted three weeks. And it only lasted three weeks because there was a one-month trip to the East Coast the man had to take between weeks two and three. Now, Micah and I are right in the middle of week seven, and he shows no sign at all that he’s going to give in any time soon.

I sure as hell won’t.

The whole situation is so ludicrous, and the anger flows away with the water as I start giggling and then laughing out loud. I can’t believe I’m thinking of a breakup as “giving up fighting with me”. But it seems like a perfectly normal and natural way to think. I can’t believe I lucked out and ended up with a man up to the task.

I finish up my shower with a good laugh at myself.

When I step out, I realize the right thing to do would be to get dressed, go back into the club, and apologize.

Of course, that will never happen.

Instead, I head to my bedroom and slip on fresh, comfortable clothes. I look presentable but it doesn’t matter because I’m not going back to the club. I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine, then sit down on the couch. I lean back and try to wrap my head around all the crazy thoughts going through my head.

We’ve been together seven weeks! Almost eight now. That’s unprecedented for me, and I really don’t know how to handle it. It’s like an entirely different world for me now. It occurs to me, though, that I don’t need to go back to the club. In fact, I become increasingly certain he’ll come to me. When he arrives, I’ll apologize, and we’ll have a drink and then incredible sex.

Of course, the sex is always incredible.

The more I think about things, the more I realize this relationship is better than I’ve ever had. I don’t know how in the world I stumbled across something so wonderful, but I did. I’m a lucky girl, I suppose. I get up and pour myself another glass of wine, then settle back down to relax and wait for my Daddy. He’ll come by and we’ll have a very short spat.

Then, I’ll apologize and kiss him and ask him to come by as soon as the club is closed. I’ll be waiting for him and when he comes back the second time, I will make sure he has an evening he can’t possibly ever forget. The very thought of all of this has me completely desperate for him and pretty damned excited from an emotional standpoint, too.

It occurs to me I might be falling in love with Micah.

That’s a very wonderful thought, and as I finish my wine, I decide I won’t even have a spat with him when she shows up. I’ll get right to the makeup sex and not bother with the drama. I feel giggly, and happy, and so damned excited it’s like I really am a little girl, a real one just brand new to the world and exploring the possibilities.

I still feel that way a half hour later.

And a half hour after that.

But a half hour after that, I realize Micah isn’t coming.

I realize he’s not coming to see me even though we had a fight, and he left me in my apartment like a damned fool mooning over him. What kind of absolute bullshit is that? I leap up, and I stomp over to my front door, pull it open, and stomp through the dressing room. I see him at the bar and hurry over. He gives me a smile, the smug jerk.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I was waiting for you!”