Page 67 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Rowan

“No.” Hendrix sighs dramatically. “I just thought you should know that the name is wrong.”

“Noted,” I say. “Although Armtickle doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

“Eh, I suppose not.”

“It’s a fun toy, regardless of how accurate its name is,” Rowan says.

“Very true,” Hendrix says. “I had record views on the stream where I played with it.”

“And our sales went up,” I recall.

Hendrix grins. “Which means you should send me another toy to play with.”

I chuckle. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“You should send him the Room For Two,” Rowan suggests in a stage whisper.

“That sounds like something that requires a partner,” Lyric says.

“It is. I’m sure you’d both have fun with it.” Rowan waggles his brows.

“We will. Send it via Rubin.”

“And on that note, we’re going to leave you two love birds alone.” Rubin corrals his men away.

“They all seem nice,” I say.

“Rubin always seems to be on cloud nine since they got together,” Rowan says.

“I’m not sure I could handletwobratty boys.”

“Who says Rubin is a brat?”

“I think he probably has a bratty streak. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, probably.” Rowan melts against me, resting his cheek on my shoulder once more. “Good thing you don’t even have one bratty boy to deal with, isn’t it?”

I stroke his hair and back. “You’re perfect exactly as you are.”

“So are you, Daddy. My strong, caring Daddy.”

“We were talking about the fun we’re going to have tonight, once we’re off the boat.”

“And home.”

I laugh. “Yes, and home. Speaking of which—how do you feel about moving in together?”

He lifts his head and stares at me.

“We spend all our free time together, anyway. It doesn’t make much sense to pay two lots of rent.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Sorry. That wasn’t a romantic way of asking you to move in with me.”

Rowan giggles. “It was rather pragmatic, Daddy. You don’t need to apologise for that. It would make more financial sense.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that.” I gather his hands up in mine. “Iwantto live with you, boy. I want to say we’re going home and mean it. I don’t want to have to decide whether we’re going to yours or mine, but know we’re going toours. I want to shareourbed every night. Cook inourkitchen.” I sigh. “Am I going overboard now?”