Page 15 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Richie

Morning light seeps through the safe house curtains, barely brightening the living area. I stir awake on the couch, nestled under a thick wool blanket, my body snug and warm despite the chill in the air.

“M-M-Fizz?” I yawn, stretching my hands above my head as I slowly but surely wake. “Did we sleep here all night?”

I blink, realizing I must have slept here all night, cocooned in this cozy pocket while the storm raged outside. My hand brushes Fizz tucked against my side, but my heart skips as I register something else—where’s Cole?

I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping to my lap, and my cheeks flush as memories of last night flood back.

Cole was here, wasn’t he? His arm around me, his chest warm and solid as I drifted off, his low, rough voice singing a lullaby that wrapped me in safety.

Nothing happened—not like that —but it felt like something deeper, something real. Calling him Daddy, feeling his pride, his care, it was like a bridge built between us, an emotional connection that made the storm’s chaos fade into the background.

I blush harder, my fingers twirling Fizz’s fur, a shy smile tugging at my lips. It was just falling asleep together, but it felt… intimate, like he saw me, really saw me, as his Little, and I let myself be that for him.

My body might feel a little achy from having slept on the couch but there’s no denying that I slept well too. Just knowing that Cole was next to me made me feel safe and protected in a way that you just don’t experience when you’re alone. Not even Fizz can make me feel as safe as I did last night.

The rain’s steady patter against the windows pulls me from my thoughts, a dull drumbeat that hasn’t let up since last night.

The storm’s calmed, no longer the howling beast it was, but the weather’s still grim, the sky dull, and if I was going to place a bet on it I’d say that more stormy weather was inbound again tonight.

My stomach tightens with a flicker of worry.

If the rain keeps up, the roads could flood, the forest paths turning to mud, trapping us in this safe house.

We’re supposed to be ready to move—Pop’s out there, and the threat Cole’s hiding from me is closing in.

Being stuck here feels like a cage, even with the fire’s warmth and the cabin’s sturdy walls.

What if we can’t get out?

What if something happens to Pop while we’re cut off?

I take a deep breath, clutching Fizz closer, and stop myself.

Cole’s got this under control. He’s a Night Ops Guard, all strength and strategy, the kind of man who’d carve a path through a hurricane if he had to.

Last night, when he held me, when he promised to keep me safe, I believed him—not just because he’s Pop’s best friend, but because he’s… Daddy .

The word sends a warm shiver through me, and I trust him, more than I’ve trusted anyone. Cole will know what to do, whether it’s staying put or finding a way out. He’s probably already planning, checking his laptop, making calls to his Night Ops Guard contacts.

Speaking of Cole, where is he?

I glance around, the living area quiet except for the rain’s rhythm and the faint creak of the cabin’s old walls and flooring.

The kitchen nook is empty, the table bare except for a folded map and a cold coffee mug. Cole’s jacket’s gone from the hook by the door, and there’s no sound of footsteps or his low voice.

Did he go outside to check the perimeter, even in this weather?

Or is he in another room, working on whatever secrets he’s keeping?

My curiosity flares, tinged with that familiar urge to push, to demand answers, but I hold it back. I promised to respect his boundaries, and after last night, I want to show him I can be good.

I’m a Little who trusts his Daddy…

And even thinking like that sends a surge of adrenalin all over my body. I blush and pull the blanket tighter, wondering what Cole’s planning—and what this new day will bring too…

Argh . Who am I kidding?

I was raised by a Night Ops Guard.

I need to find out what’s going on, and that needs to happen right now…

Cole’s absence is nagging at me way too much to not investigate. I trust him to have everything under control—Pop’s situation, the storm, the threat—but curiosity tugs, sharp and insistent, like a thread I can’t help but pull.

“Come on, Fizz,” I say. “It’s time to go Daddy Hunting.”

Temptation wins, and I slide off the couch, the blanket pooling behind me, Fizz in my arms as I pad across the creaky floorboards, my socks muffling my steps.

I check the hallway, peering into the small bathroom and Cole’s room, but both are dark, silent. The safe house feels smaller, the walls pressing in with the rain’s ceaseless patter.

My heart quickens—not fear, but a spark of defiance, the same urge that’s pushed me to test Cole before. I shouldn’t snoop, not after promising to respect Cole’s boundaries, but I need to know where he is.

I creep to the front door, the cold doorknob biting my palm, and ease it open, wincing as the hinges creak. A gust of damp air rushes in, carrying the scent of wet pine and earth, the rain a steady drizzle beyond the porch.

I step onto the porch, hugging Fizz tight, and freeze, my breath catching...

“ OMG ,” I whisper, barely able to gather my thoughts.

Cole’s out there, in the clearing just beyond the cabin, working out in the rain. He’s shirtless, his skin glistening with water, muscles flexing as he drops into a set of pushups, then rises for squats, his movements precise, powerful.

The rain slicks his dark hair to his forehead, trails down his broad shoulders, his chest, his abs, each motion a testament to his strength. It’s… breathtaking.

I clutch Fizz to my chest, my heart pounding, a wave of arousal washing over me, hot and dizzying.

There’s something primal, magnetic about Cole—his focus, his discipline, the way the rain clings to him like it’s claiming him.

He’s a Night Ops Guard, a warrior, but right now, he’s just Cole, and he’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen.

“I shouldn’t be watching,” I whisper, knowing full well that I’m not going anywhere. “This is just too hot…”

Cole is so in the zone, his breath steady despite the rain’s chill, that he doesn’t notice me. I stand spellbound, my eyes tracing the lines of his body—the taut muscles of his arms, the way his back ripples with each pushup, the controlled power in his squats.

The rain adds something extra, a raw edge that makes my skin flush, my fingers tightening around Fizz’s fur.

I shouldn’t be watching like this, shouldn’t let my mind wander to how it felt to be close to him last night, his arms around me, his eyes looking at me like I was his Little.

But I can’t look away, caught in the heat of this moment, the safe house’s warmth a distant memory against the storm’s wild energy.

Suddenly, Cole stops, mid-pushup, and looks across the clearing, his dark eyes locking onto mine. My heart stumbles, but he breaks into a small, easy smile and waves, rain dripping from his hand.

“Good morning, boy,” Cole calls, his voice warm, cutting through the rain’s rhythm, a playful edge that makes my stomach flip.

I swallow, my cheeks burning, but I manage a smile, my voice softer than I mean it to be.

“Good morning, Daddy,” I reply, the word slipping out naturally, laced with the trust and heat of last night.

Cole’s smile widens, just a fraction, and I feel it—that connection, Daddy and Little, sparking again, even in the rain-soaked morning. My heart pounds, Fizz a steady anchor in my arms, as I stand there, caught between temptation and the promise of whatever this day will bring…

“Okay, so this is how I make porridge,” I giggle.

The safe house kitchen nook is warm and fragrant, the scent of oats and cinnamon curling through the air as I spoon porridge into bowls at the small wooden table.

The fire in the living area crackles, its glow spilling into the kitchen, and I hum softly, feeling a quiet pride as I set a steaming bowl in front of Cole’s usual spot.

I made the porridge myself this morning, stirring it carefully on the stove, adding just the right pinch of brown sugar and cinnamon, hoping it’s as good as Pop’s.

Fizz sits propped in a chair, and I giggle as I place a tiny bowl of porridge in front of him, a playful gesture that feels right in this cozy moment. I wouldn’t do this in front of many people, but I know that Cole won’t think I’m silly. In fact, he seems to like it…

Cole steps in from the hallway, fresh from the shower, his dark hair damp and tousled, his flannel shirt clinging slightly to his still-warm skin.

My heart skips, memories of him shirtless in the rain flashing through my mind, but I focus on the table, my cheeks warming.

He sits, his presence filling the small space, and takes a bite of the porridge, his eyes meeting mine.

“This is good, Richie,” he says, his voice warm, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Really good. And I think Fizz is going to grow into a big bear if he eats his porridge every morning too.”

My heart sings, a burst of joy that’s almost embarrassing in its intensity.

“Thanks, Daddy,” I say, the word slipping out easily, carrying the trust we built last night. “But Fizz is always going to be a baby bear, just like me!”

Cole smiles and continues to eat, his appetite evidently pretty big after his exercise routine.

I settle across from Cole, my own bowl steaming, and sneak a glance at Fizz’s tiny bowl, looking ever so cute.

The three of us—me, Cole, and Fizz—at this table feel like a little family, a bubble of warmth against the gray, rainy world outside.

It’s silly, maybe, but it’s perfect, and I savor it, spooning porridge into my mouth, the sweetness grounding me and making me feel all warm inside.

I glance at the window and curiosity nudges me. As much as I love being a Little, my inquisitive side is never going to leave me. I just have to ask…

“Is the weather gonna be bad again tonight?” I ask, keeping my tone light, though worry flickers in my chest. “Another storm could trap us here, and with Pop out there, I’m worried we’ll get stuck.”

Cole pauses, his spoon hovering, and considers me, his eyes sharp but kind.

“Potentially,” Cole says, his voice steady. “It’s why we need to make a trip to the nearest town today, pick up some supplies… food, batteries, anything we might need if we’re stuck longer.”

Cole takes another spoonful of porridge, casual, but there’s a weight in his words, a Night Ops Guard’s caution.

My eyes light up, excitement bubbling over.

“Can we visit a diner?” I ask, leaning forward, imagining a greasy spoon with pancakes and chatter, a slice of regular life. “ Please , Daddy?”

Cole chuckles, a low sound that warms me more than the porridge.

“Depends on whether I think it’s safe,” Cole says, his tone firm but not dismissive. “I’m not promising anything, but we might. We’ll see. How does that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” I say, my heart full of hope but a little caution too.

Diner or not, I can’t help but beam, elation fizzing through me like soda.

A trip to town, maybe a diner. It’s a small thing perhaps, but it feels like an adventure, a break from the safe house’s walls.

But as I watch Cole, his eyes flicking to the window, I catch a hint of something… tension, maybe, or information he’s not sharing. My instinct, honed by Pop’s surveillance lessons, prickles.

I know that look.

I can see the signs.

Something isn’t quite what it seems…

Cole’s holding back, probably about Pop or the threat.

The old me would’ve pushed, demanded answers, but I remember our new understanding, the boundaries we agreed to last night.

Cole will tell me when the time’s right, and I trust him—my Daddy—to know when.

I bite my lip, holding my tongue, and focus on my porridge, the warmth settling my restless thoughts.

Cole sets his spoon down, his smile returning.

“Finish your porridge, darling boy,” Cole says, his voice playful but firm. “We’ve got a trip to make.”

I grin, happily tucking into my bowl, the cinnamon sweet on my tongue, excitement for the day ahead bubbling inside me. And who knows, maybe even a stack of syrupy pancakes too…