Page 34 of Mister Daddy

“We want weekly dinners when we get back to Miami. No excuses.”

I laugh. “I can handle that. And breakfast tomorrow?”

“We’d love that. And if Carter is busy at all tomorrow, you can slum it with us.”

“Hey,” I protest. “It’s never slumming it with you.”

I know Jessica is only joking, but it matters to me that she knows that I love her. That I love both of them.

“I know,” she says. “I love you, Abby.”

“I love you, too. Both of you. I promise, no guy will ever change that.”

“Good.”

Our dessert arrives just in time for our lighter banter. Caitlyn eats a crème brûlée while Jessica and I chow down on strawberry ice cream. It is absolutely delicious.

After we’ve finished, the waiter takes away our plates, and we walk out holding arms.

“Hey, Carter is busy for the rest of the night, and there’s a movie playing up on the deck. Something having to do with star-crossed lovers, the jungle, and oh, Alexander Skarsgard’s in it. You want to go?”

The girls both grin.

“Alexander Skarsgard? It has to beTarzan! We’d love to. Ooh, he’s hot.”

We head to the upper deck together, our relationship stronger than it’s ever been. A piece of my heart I hadn’t known was missing is back, and for the first time ever, it feels totally full.

Thanks to Jessica and Caitlyn.

And Carter.

14

Abby

Iyawn mightily, opening my eyes with a secret smile on my face. It’s nice being in Carter’s king size bed, especially when compared with the narrow berths in my own shared room. Not that Jessica and Caitlyn are so terrible, but when you have three girls cramped into a fifteen by fifteen space, it can get crowded. There’s constantly the smell of hairspray, and my two buddies brought so many clothes that fabric is pretty much draped everywhere: off the bedposts, off the open door of our tiny closet, and even on the towel bar in our miniscule bathroom.

I suppose it makes sense though. This was supposed to be a getaway for the three of us to have fun, so I guess it means things are even more fun if we’re living cramped like mice. Not. As a result, I’m really glad that I’ve been able to sleep most nights in Carter’s spacious suite, and to revel in his huge, king-size bed.

Not to mention waking up to him is a sight to behold. Most mornings, he’s up before me and already tapping away at work on his computer, but this morning, I see a god of a man splayed beside me, and my breath catches. Carter is all heavy muscle, bronzed skin, and a backside that makes my mouth water. He’s sculpted with tattoos running up over his arms and chest, and my eyes go wide at all the twirly swirls.

“Are you staring at me while I sleep?” he grunts, his eyes still closed.

I giggle a bit.

“Okay, so what if I am? You’re just so gorgeous,” I titter again.

One blue eye opens, catching mine.

“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart. You’ve got it going on too.”

At that compliment, I blush because I know he’s being kind. I’m creamy and soft, but I’m also big. Not just compared to the twig-size models you see in magazines, but also when compared to normal-sized girls out there. So I know Carter’s being nice.

I blush again.

“Thank you,” is my quiet murmur. “I’m glad you like what you see.”

He growls and reaches over me to grab me by my hips, pulling me next to that bronzed chest.