Page 4 of Amelia's Daddy

Noah reaches out and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I like this pink tinge. I bet there’s a side of you I have not seen before.”

I glance at the door to the restaurant. “The waitress side?” I suggest, trying to sound funny and lighten the weird tension between us.

He chuckles. “That, too.”

“I better get back to work.” I’m sure my fifteen minutes are almost up.

He lowers his hand. “Okay. Will you call me?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles. “I know where you work, Amelia. I could start eating lunch here every day until you agree to go out with me.”

“So, you’re a stalker?”

He chuckles. I like the sound. His voice lowers when he speaks again. “More like a concerned Daddy who’s intrigued by a certain Little.”

I suck in a breath.

He points at the card. “Call me.” And then he turns and strolls around the side of the building.

Chapter Two

I wait two days before I let myself contemplate reaching out to Noah. The problem is that I like him. The less I know about him, the longer I can continue to like him. Once he gets to know me, things will go downhill like they do with every man I date, and then I’ll end up disappointed.

With Noah it will be worse because he’s a Daddy, and relationships with Daddies are more intense. I could end up with a broken heart from a few dates with Noah.

I’m sitting in the spare room of my apartment, flipping the card around in my hand. This room is my haven. It’s where I can be myself. I keep it locked when I’m not in it so that no one can ever find out about this side of me.

When I date—which isn’t often, and it’s been a long time since my last date—I never open the door to this room for a man. Not ever. The few times I’ve had someone in my apartment, I told them this was my junk room and that I keep it locked because it’s embarrassing.

It’s certainly embarrassing. It’s also not a junk room. Not even close.

I sigh as I stare at the business card. Today is my day off. I should reach out to Noah. Granted, that doesn’t mean he wouldbe able to see me today. Heck, I don’t even know if he’s on the mainland right now. I know he lives part time on the island. He could have gone back since I saw him.

I have my cell phone in my other hand, and I swipe the screen, stare at it, and close it again. It shouldn’t be so difficult to call him. He’s just a guy like any other guy.

Except he’s not. He’s Noah. I have a crush on him. Or at least I have a crush on the imaginary him that’s grown to ginormous proportions in my head, especially in the last two days.

I’m sitting in my favorite beanbag chair, wearing my favorite Little outfit, so I’m feeling vulnerable. I probably should have reached out to him when I was in my adult headspace.

There’s no way I’m going to actually call him. I’ll send a text. That’s the only option. Pushing to sit up taller, I open my phone and boldly type in his number. That’s a first step. It’s more real with his number in my phone. I don’t add his name. Just his number. That’s bold enough for now.

I carefully construct my message.

Hey. This is Amelia.

That’s it. That’s the message. It’s all I say. It puts the ball in his court.

I nearly drop the phone a few seconds later when it rings in my hand. Even though I didn’t add his name to my contacts, I can see it’s the same number I just texted.

I swipe the screen to answer. “Hello?” My voice cracks on that one word. I don’t think I’m prepared to talk to Noah right now. I’m in my Little space. I shouldn’t have called while I was in this room.

For some reason, I didn’t picture him being available the very moment I texted. I imagined him being busy and texting me back later.

“You were supposed to call, naughty girl,” he teases. “That was a text.”

I bite my lip. He’s right. I hadn’t thought of that.