Page 2

2

JOY

Living in Montana, the possibility of a wild animal charging through the underbrush was not uncommon. But a muscled, tattooed man wearing nothing but a tiny pink towel around his waist was a surprise.

Especially one this attractive.

Holy shit, he was good looking.

This was Remy’s Daddy?

He had red hair. Everywhere.

The towel did little to hide the fact because the towel was little. It was pink and had…embroidered strawberries on the ends. I guessed it was one of Remy’s.

It only contrasted how big and virile he was. Six feet, sturdy frame. Muscled. Broad shouldered. Again, muscled. Abs you could climb. Yup, muscled. Thighs like tree trunks.

And beneath the towel… big there, too.

The towel might fit a four-year old girl just fine, but EVERYTHING on this guy was either shown outright or outlined very distinctly.

My mouth watered, and the sun suddenly became even hotter than it had been. I put the popsicle in my mouth in hope of cooling off.

His gaze followed the action with a dark glower.

“Hi, Daddy!” Remy said again. She bounced a little on the stoop with her excitement. “This is Joy. We’re having pops.”

His daughter was so sweet. And bright. Now I knew where she got her strawberry blonde locks.

“I see that.” He stomped over to us, which shouldn’t be possible in bare feet, but he somehow managed it.

I had to tip my head back to keep my eyes on his and not the rest of his Adonis physique. I could even see those V things that male models had. His face softened as he squatted down in front of me, and that towel–

My eyes practically bugged out of my head at the sight of his dick. His big, thick, ridiculously-attractive-for-a-dick dick.

He must’ve figured out his towel wasn’t working at the same time I cleared my throat. He popped back to his feet and held the knot at his hip tightly.

“Baby, you can’t leave the house without me,” he said gruffly.

“I didn’t want to color anymore,” Remy defended herself. “I heard Joy singing, so I came out. She lives here. She does clay in the garage. Wanna see?”

He frowned at me like I might have been trying to lure her into my house or something.

“She paints it and puts it in an oven. It sounds so fun! She’s gonna let me do some if it’s okay with you.”

The dad-I’d-like-to-fuck grunted. I couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no.

For some foolish reason, his disgruntled demeanor made him all the more attractive to me. I didn’t know why–maybe I found grumps a challenge or something.

I was never into guys who were charming and friendly and into me . I was like a cat who knew exactly which strangers weren’t cat people, and expended its energy and affection on only them. Needless to say, I was very single because of it.

“Her hair’s not red like mine,” Remy continued. “It’s like a princess and like spun gold in that book we read and also in that movie. What’s spun gold? Does it go around and around in circles?”

The girl had energy. The popsicle perhaps wasn’t the best idea, but they were all natural. Raspberry, my favorite flavor. It had two sticks, and I’d split it in half, so we shared. I’d doubted she could eat a whole one in this heat before it melted all over her. I was right because half the juice stained her face and her right hand.

“The popsicle is all-natural, no sugar added,” I told him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first, but she said she didn’t have any food allergies and that you were in the shower.”

I probably shouldn’t have reminded myself of that fact because the thought sent my gaze on another wander over his mostly-naked body, looking for water droplets. Wondering if he’d like a little help next time.

I could–it was definitely an option–hold the soap or something.

The man grunted. Looked at me with an intense gaze.

Took a deep breath as if trying to calm himself.

Then looked away.

I guess he was pissed about the popsicle.

Whoops.

Ignoring me, he said, “Remy, you can’t run off like that. I didn’t know where you were.” He shot a dark look my way. “And you should never accept food from strangers.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She tipped her freckled face up to mine. “Is Joy a stranger? I thought she was our neighbor.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Time to go.”

Remy jumped to her feet. “Thank you for the pop!” She dashed off back to her house.

“She’s adorable.” I pushed to my bare feet. It was in the high eighties, and to combat the warm-for-Montana temperatures, I had on a short sundress, and my fair hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun.

He grunted again.

I wasn’t sure what else to say to a mostly naked man in my backyard who seemed disgruntled that I befriended his daughter. There was no etiquette for this.

He stared. I stared back.

Then he turned on his bare feet and left.

I got a great view of his muscular ass in the tiny towel.

Maybe I shouldn’t have given his daughter a popsicle. Maybe he shouldn’t have flashed me his impressive dick.

And that dick belonged to my neighbor? Wow.

The man was grumpy. Growly. Gorgeous.

And I didn’t even know his name.