Page 49 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

Papi: I think I did something wrong.

I cringe at a photo of what I think are supposed to be pancakes.

Me: That’s a crime against food.

Papi: I think my pan was too hot.

Me: What are the black parts?

Papi: Bananas.

Me: Oh dear.

Papi: Guess I’ll need you to teach me. In person.

Papi: Soon.

Papi: How’s your day going, Baby?

I slump back in my chair, email forgotten.

It’s the simplest text. But it feels intimate. Relationship-y.

Me: It’s pretty good. Low-key. You?

Papi: Good day. Just got a little better.

Me: Do you go to the Inn every night?

Papi: You better not be going tonight.

I narrow my eyes at my phone.

Me: Why not?

I mean, I know we’re keeping this thing between us on the down-low. But still.

Papi: Because I’m not there.

Papi: And if I miss a chance to see you, I’m going to be pissed.

Papi: And if anyone hits on you, you need to tell me. I’ll ban them.

His meathead attitude should annoy me, but it doesn’t feel overbearing. It feels cute.

I don’t know where he is if he’s not at the Inn, but riling him up more seems appropriate.

Me: Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m not coming without you.

I slap a hand over my mouth.

I can’t believe I sent that.

Papi: Dammit, Doll. I’m in public.

I laugh.

Me: Sorry.

Papi: You’re not sorry.

Me: I’m not sorry.

Papi: So… you’re not going to the Inn?

Me: Not if you’re not there. Dad is out with someone tonight, so I was wondering if you were working or…?

Papi: Who’s he out with?

Me: Don’t know. Some friend.

Papi: Of course that asshole would finally leave the house when I’m out of town.

I bite my lip.

He left town? For how long?

Me: Oh? Go somewhere fun?

Papi: Denver. Ashley’s college graduation ceremony starts in a few minutes, and afterward, we’re going out to dinner. So I got a hotel for the night.

Seriously though, I can’t with this man. He’s such a good dad, and that makes him even hotter.

Last weekend, when we were sitting in that ridiculous two-person chair, he told me all about Ashley.

About taking her to soccer games when she was little. The at-home hair dye mishaps. The time she went to prom, and how he waited for her date outside, in the front yard, chopping wood with an axe.

And he told me about Ashley starting college courses when she was twenty-two, majoring in computer sciences.

How he didn’t rush her into starting straight out of high school.

Because how can we expect eighteen-year-olds to know what career they want?

Because how could they possibly know that when they don’t even know themselves?

The way I fucking swooned.

Responsibility is sexy.

Me: Sounds like a fun time.

Me: She’ll love having you there.

Papi: You home?

My pulse skips.

Me: Yes.

Papi: I’ll be there in ten.

I look down at myself.

Working from home is great. But it’s—I look at the clock—almost noon. And I’m still in my pajamas.

Usually I’m more put together than this, but I stayed up way too late last night, lying in bed thinking about Luther.

Fantasizing about him.

Worrying about how much I like him.

And now I’m paying the price.

Pushing back from my desk, I get to my feet and run to my room.