Page 7 of Bartender Daddy’s Girl (Daddy’s Girl #11)

JUDGE

I ’d have been happy to sleep in, holding Carrie in my arms, but Frasier has a knack for ruining my plans. Not that I was asleep anyway. Early mornings and late nights are part of the norm. I just couldn’t pull myself away from her.

Hard as I tried, I kept sinking deeper into a cuddle. Felt her soft fingers brushing against my skin even while she was far away in dreamland. Couldn’t stop staring at the precious smile that hasn’t left her lips since last night.

If you asked me what I thought about Sugarcreek twenty-four hours ago, I’d have said it’s a dead-end place for dead-end people.

A spot for men like me who’ve lived their lives and need a break until the end.

All of that changed when she walked through my door.

Coming to this little town was the best decision of my life.

And I pray to whatever almighty being rules above that Carrie feels the same way.

“Judge, you up?” Frasier’s voice comes from the door, and his call snaps Carrie from slumber. She jolts forward in a panic, scanning her surroundings until her eyes fall on me. My presence manages to calm her enough to lie back down, panting heavily from fright.

“Give me a second,” I whisper and kiss her against the temple.

I pull on my black boxers and shirt before heading to the door.

Frasier’s outside it with a wicked grin that says he knows exactly what happened here last night. He’s leaning against the wooden barrier meant to keep folks from falling over to the ground floor below, holding a cigarette in one hand and a tray with orange juice in the other.

“Thought you might like some refreshments,” he says.

“Could use it.” I smile, accepting the drink and swallowing the glass down in one big gulp. “How’d it go last night?”

I don’t really care. My priorities were and are elsewhere, and to be honest, they’re far more important. But the old timer wouldn’t be up here this early if something wasn’t weighing on him. Either there was trouble or there’s going to be trouble, and I want to get ahead of it.

“Y’know, when someone says they’re gonna do something for a second.

” Frasier drags on his cigarette, offering me the tray to take a glass to Carrie.

He turns his head away in some valiant attempt to show me he won’t peek while I do it.

“I’d be a fool to think they actually meant a second, right?

Maybe ten, twenty minutes, but you’d always think they’d come back. ”

I take the juice over to Carrie, and she accepts it, shouting, “Thanks,” to Frasier. He responds, “No problem,” and I meet him back at the door.

“Must’ve been tired. Fell asleep right after we got up here,” I say.

He eyes me up and down and chuckles. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, son.” Carrie laughs from inside the room. “But the night went well. Handled what I could, and the youngsters did the rest.”

“Being old isn’t an excuse for being lazy,” I tease.

She laughs again, and the sound makes my insides melt. Soft, innocent, safe. The exact state I wanted to bring her to when she pitched up here.

Frasier gestures with his head for me to join him outside, and though our conversation started light, my suspicions were correct. He’s about to drop something on me.

I close the door behind me and follow him along the upper deck until we reach the end. He looks back at Carrie’s room to make sure she isn’t listening in before he speaks.

“Sheriff Kimble stopped by around one-thirty,” he says.

“For the punks?” I wouldn’t be surprised with the tree-sized stick Larry Kimble has up his ass.

Frasier shakes his head.

“Said some suspicious-looking guys have been hanging around town and asked if they were with you. Rolled in yesterday, booked three rooms at the Gray Hotel, and carry a . . . how did he put it?” He turns his eyes to the ceiling, trying to recall the sheriff’s exact words.

“A dirty kind of stink about them.” He takes another drag and ashes the tip onto the tray. “Are we expecting anyone?”

Fuck.

Rage lights a fire in my belly before I’ve fully processed what he said.

“Not us.” Us being me and Frasier, that is. The other us , Carrie and I, we’re expecting a lot more than people.

Why I thought there’d be more time before they arrived is beyond me. Carrie’s ex-boss is a stalker, a stalker with means. It seems. He has enough money to hire someone to follow her around day and night; it shouldn’t be a leap to believe he’d have followed her here, too.

“Her?” Frasier asks after my long pause.

I nod.

I give him a rundown of what Carrie told me the night before. The important details surrounding the turmoil this prick put her through. He nods and listens, not interrupting me until I’ve finished.

“I don’t expect you to get involved, but I am going to sort this out,” I conclude.

“And let you run away with the girl and all the fun? Over my dead body.” He pats me on the shoulder to show support. “Y’have a plan?”

“Not yet. Working on it.” Not a lie, necessarily, but I haven’t had much time to put thought into it. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

He nods and starts walking. I follow, slipping back into Carrie’s room while he carries on down the stairs.

She’s out of bed when I arrive. Half naked with a thin blanket draped over her shoulders, the morning sun bathing her in rays of gold, amplifying her angelic qualities to new heights.

“Did you get in trouble for last night?” She winks while she speaks. Teasing? Good, she doesn’t suspect a thing.

“Not quite.” I make my way over and kiss her good morning. “Frasier wanted to give me an update on how things went.”

“That’s why he walked you off?” A brow crinkles above her beautiful eye. Smart. Curious. Cautious. All at once.

“Didn’t want you overhearing that the sheriff came by again.” I made a promise to myself that I’d never lie to Carrie. Not about anything. But like before, she has to ask the right questions.

No part of me wants to say that her ex-boss followed her here. Not before I have a concrete plan to stop him from making her life hell. Until then, I want her to live in this budget paradise, wearing that smile and nothing else, strutting around like she owns the damn place.

That would be my heaven.

“Oh shit.” Her eyes widen at the sheriff’s mention. “Was it about those guys?”

“That was my first thought, but no. Guess he just likes poking his nose in my business to find something that will stick.” Like three hotel rooms’ worth of garbage that needs taking out.

She extends a hand to me, and as it moves under the blanket and exposes her naked body beneath, a solution hits me.

Not one I’m going to be pleased with when she has a full wardrobe to pull from, but it should steer her mind off this topic.

“I was thinking we can head into town today. You need clothes, and I need a break from the bar. We can make a day of it.”

Her face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“That sounds like a fabulous first date,” she says, hurrying to gather yesterday’s clothes off the floor. I do the same.

Just like that, my problems are solved.

For now.