Page 1 of Badd Daddy

1

Lucas

“Eggshell Blue?The fuck kind of a color is that? Eggs ain’t blue, y’dumbasses.” I growled under my breath as I stood in the paint aisle at a home improvement warehouse in Ketchikan, sorting through sample books and color rings, trying to decide which color I should paint my apartment. I had my damned cane hooked over my arm while I stood half leaning against the shelf—the color samples were attached to the shelf via a length of chain, so in order to hold it and sort through it, I needed both hands. Which was damned tricky, as my leg was still weak from the accident. I couldn’t stand on both feet for too long without needing to lean against something for support. ’Course, I should be going to therapy and strengthening it, but I’m too damn lazy and stubborn for that, so I hobble along with this stupid cane like some kinda damn geriatric fuck.

“Periwinkle. That’s not too bad, so maybe.” I was talking to myself, but I didn’t give a shit if I sounded crazy. “Electric Moonlight? Who the hell comes up with this shit?”

A delicate, soft, musical laugh from the aisle on the other side of the shelf startled the hell out of me. “I’m actually rather partial to theElectric Moonlightshade.” The voice was as musical as the laugh.

“Yeah, sure, it’s a nice color,” I mutter. “Name is stupider’n fuck, though.”

I hear the click of heels coming around the endcap, and I looked up to see a fuckin’ angel—if angels came in the body of classy, svelte, sexy-ass women. This one in particular was dialed into her own brand of hotness: tall, standing five-ten or so, slender and sleek with just enough curve to her hips to make my dick stand up and take notice, breasts that looked plump and firm despite being on the smaller side; black hair cut short—angled downward from very short up in back to past her chin in front, covered with fringes and wisps and curls. On any other woman, it’d be a warning sign—an “I’d like to see the manager” haircut. On her? It just looked right. Dark eyes it looked like, but I was too far away to make out the exact shade—maybeMidnight Moonlight? She was dressed to kill, in a conservative way. Knee-length maroon skirt and a white button-down shirt with short sleeves—only the top two buttons were undone, allowing a tantalizing peek at the top of her tanned cleavage. On her feet were black flat-heeled slipper-shoe things, the kind of shoe you see chicks wearing all the time these days.

She had a clipboard in one hand, a pen in the other, but what really caught my attention were her amazing legs.

Not to mention a smile that made my weak leg go a little shaky.

She clicked and swayed over to me, and extended her hand. “Olivia Goode.” Her smile brightened even more, and I swear it made me a little dizzy.

I gave her my best grin, the one that once upon a long ago time used to melt its fair share of panties. As far as I knew her undergarments were still in place, but I did notice she wasn’t overly quick to let go of my hand, and her eyes searched mine for a bit longer than usual. She was looking up at me, which wasn’t unusual since I was nearly six-five But even she, as tall as she was, had to look up.

“Lucas Badd,” I answered, shaking her hand—I squeezed gently, and held on until she let go.

“A Goodeanda Badd,” she quipped, smirking.

“Whaddya know. Match made in heaven.” I grinned back at her, lifting the color samples. “There are a lotta crazy names in here.”

She laughed, another of those musical sounds she’d made on the other side of the aisle. “Well, there are a lot of different shades of blue, Lucas. You can’t call them all just plain old blue, can you?” She indicated the various hues of blue with a sweep of a purple-painted fingernail. “These are all blue, but if you want your room to be eggshell, that’s a much different feel than if you painted itElectric Moonlight.”

I growled in annoyance. “I don’t know what the hell I want. All I know is I’m painting my apartment and I was thinking blue. I come in here and find a billion and a half different colors of blue, and I got no clue what to do now.”

“Well, what kind of general feel and aesthetic are you going for you in your space?” She tilted her head to one side and popped her hip out, twirling her pen around her finger and hugging her clipboard against her chest.

“My what?”

She gestured at the colors with her pen. “Like I said, different shades have different feels. They’ll inspire a different overall emotional tone just from the light in the room. Eggshell is more uplifting and lighthearted, whereasElectric Moonlightis more inspiring and energetic.” She gestured at another shade, darker than the others. “This one—well, it would be interesting as an accent wall, but I certainly wouldn’t do a whole room in it.”

I frowned. “Accent wall?”

She held back a smirk. “What does your place look like at the moment?”

I scratched my head with the handle of my cane. “Uh. I guess you might call it…spartan.”

Yeah. Go with that. Heh.

She seemed to interpret this correctly, judging by the amusement on her beautiful face. “By which I assume you mean white walls, no pictures or paintings, and little if any furniture?”

I laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

She looked at me for a moment, assessing. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Uh. I dunno.”

She rolled her eyes. “What kind of person are you?”

I snickered. “How the hell’m I s’posed to answer that? Jesus. What kind of person am I?” I smacked my cane down to the ground. “I’m a lonely, cranky, grumpy old fart from the ass-end of Oklahoma with no patience for silly girly colors on my walls.”

She nodded. “I see. So you’ll want something masculine, but still soothing.” Her smile was gentle, but teasing. “Try to balance out all that crankiness and grumpiness.”