Page 3 of Their Perfect Daddy

DANNY

W hen I got hired to work with Micah, I thought the job was going to be fun. I figured we’d work together to plan some cool parties and maybe I’d meet some fun people along the way.

I had no clue my boss would turn into my best friend. Nor did I realize he was related to one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen.

Monty Tempest is basically the epitome of my vision board future husband. He’s taller than me, but not too tall. His muscles have muscles, and his golden skin gives him a permanently sun-kissed glow I want to taste.

He’s also lean enough to not hurt me when he bumps up against me—unlike his friends who have cinder blocks for hands.

Since when do high fives hurt?

I ignore my aching palm because I’m having the time of my life. This party is so much fun, and being close to Monty is a treat. I’m soaking up every second of it.

Part of me feels bad for leaving Micah behind. Then again, he’s been in a daze since the game. Something, or maybe someone , caught his eye. I know my friend well enough to see the difference in him.

Besides, he isn’t one to change plans last minute. Accepting the party invite is not his usual answer.

I suspect he’s hoping to see his mystery man here. Or maybe he already has, and I’m too caught up in my own crush to notice. It’s highly likely.

“You still with us, Dan?” One of the guys from the team taunts. The nickname is annoying. Even so, I won’t dare say it aloud. They don’t seem like the type to take criticism well.

I nod slowly, the alcohol in my system making me dizzy with the easy movement. “I’ve got this one.”

Tossing the sack, I watch as everything moves in slow motion. One of the other guys tries to intercept it, but they slip on a wet patch and go down hard.

Our group goes silent as we wait to see if he’s ok. The minute he gives the thumb up and stands, I cheer because he didn’t manage to block my shot. Somehow, by the grace of the universe, the bag went through the hole.

No shot for me. Ha! Take that evil liquor gods.

There’s a snicker beside me. Monty shakes his head, making me realize I must have verbalized my smack talk.

Whoopsies.

“Last round,” Monty announces to the group. “I’m being a terrible host hanging with only you lot.”

The words come out slurred. I might be a bit tipsy, but it seems Monty is nearly gone with it. He manages to stay upright. Must be from all that football coordination he has.

I admire his upper body as the next guy on our team goes. His shirt has been off since the first round when he got doused with water. I’ve never been more thankful for a wet t-shirt in my life.

His body is magnificent. It reminds me of all the heartthrobs I used to hang on my bedroom walls during my teenage years.

Back then, I told my friends and family it was because I was into sports.

While that’s true to an extent, it was always an appreciation for their physiques as well as their talent that did me in.

Being up close to Monty is like taking a foodie to a fancy buffet. I want to touch and taste everything I’m seeing.

Ok, so maybe that’s a terrible analogy. Sue me. The guy makes me stupid.

“My eyes are up here,” his abs whisper.

No, wait. Not his abs.

Monty is whispering.

Shit. I’ve been busted.

“I’m… um, I—” My voice cuts off at the sound of cheering. We turn to look at the game only to see a dog pile of players and no clue as to how it happened.

I snort. “They’re a fun bunch.”

Hopefully, my comment distracts Monty enough to forget what just happened between us.

If anything, maybe he’ll move on to his teammates and allow me to slip to another area.

Or better yet, I can just head home. I could totally call a car out.

I just need to pin the address since I don’t really know exactly where I am.

“Come on, guys. Get it together. You’re all a bunch of sore losers.” Monty waves his hands around as he steps closer to the pile.

Taking the chance, I back away toward the house. It’s a great plan. Truly, it is.

Except I don’t have eyes in the back of my head.

Which means I manage to bump into someone. And that someone is holding a rather large container of liquid because it winds up pouring all over me.

Literally all over , soaking me from front to back. It’s a disaster.

And when I look down, I see it’s something red. I close my eyes tight in hopes this is all a bad dream. Surely life would not have me reliving the scene from Carrie while in front of a guy I’m interested in.

“Danny,” comes a soft voice directly in front of me. I open my eyes to find Monty staring at me with a confused expression. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out as a squawk.

He grins. “You sure? This looks… well, it looks pretty bad.”

“I imagine it does,” I agree. “Probably time for me to call for a ride home.”

When I move to slip away, he grabs my bicep. “You’re not going to be able to convince anyone to let you in their car in this state. They won’t want you making a mess. Come with me. We’ll get you a change of clothes.”

My eyes go wide at his offer. He can’t be serious.

Rather than laugh it off, he laces our fingers together and leads me through his home to the stairs. Thankfully, he has tile flooring everywhere we go since I’m trailing a small path of red liquid after me with each step. It’s not horrible, but I imagine it would stain carpet.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says when he notices me watching the trail. “I’ll have someone else clean it up. Or I will. Not for you to worry about.”

He takes me through his bedroom, where unfortunately there is some carpet. Instead of fussing over it, he lifts me into the air and sprints across the room. A single tiny drop makes it to the carpet, but otherwise it’s left unharmed.

As he sets me down on the countertop, I can’t hide the way my jaw drops at the move. He lifted me as if I was nothing. How is that even possible?

Oh, wait. He’s a freaking professional athlete. Of course he can pick me up easily. I bet his personal lifting records is close to double my weight.

“I’ll get you something comfortable. Hold on.” Monty pats my knee as he moves into the connected closet area.

It’s then I take in the space around me.

A huge shower is on my left. It’s big enough to fit a few Monty-sized people inside.

There’s even a bench to sit on and multiple rain heads.

If that wasn’t tempting enough, there’s a giant clawfoot tub beside it as well.

It looks vintage yet also brand new. He’s got a TV on one wall, the position making it obvious he watches while in the tub.

Other than that, it’s just as nice as the downstairs with towels, a freestanding towel warmer, and a cart with all kinds of hygiene items on it.

I’m staring at the stack of tampons and face wipes when he returns with a bundle in his hands. He follows where I’m looking and chuckles softly.

“That’s for when the guys bring their wives and girlfriends over. I figure it’s easier to keep them supplied than to have them leaving early or sending the guys out for something. It’s best to have everything your company might need when throwing a party.”

His words come out as if they’re rehearsed. Or maybe even memorized from some text about how to be a good host. I don’t want to believe he’s the type to fake his way through things. But I’m also not going to deny it’s a bit too formal.

Considering how inebriated he is makes it all stranger.

“Thanks,” I finally say when the silence between us becomes too much. “I’ll just change real quick.”

He nods, then motions to the door. “Here. I will be here.”

With a quick shuffle, he’s out the door. I laugh to myself, then start to peel the clothing off my body. My shirt is a sticky mess, and it fights me to come off. Once I have it done, I have to get my pants down. They aren’t as soaked through as my upper body, so it’s not too bad.

Once I’m down to my underwear, I look for a washcloth to rinse myself with. I don’t want to risk taking a full shower, but I won’t be able to function if I don’t get some of the residue off my chest.

I find what I need behind a cabinet door. Running the water extra hot, I squirt some hand soap on the towel and get to work cleaning myself up. It doesn’t take too long, and it makes me feel a million times better when I’m finished.

Of course, that feeling only lasts a minute or so because next thing I know, the door is opening.

“Are you ok? It’s been a min—holy shit! You’re in panties.” Monty’s shock is clear as day in his features.

I look down at myself and wince. When I got dressed this morning, I grabbed something I knew I’d be comfortable in. Not once did I think anyone else would see me in my favorite pair of lace panties.

They’re a turquoise color with just enough fabric to cover me. From the look on Monty’s face, I’m not all that covered.

“Can you please let me get dressed?” I whisper.

My question seems to break whatever spell he’s under. His face goes red as he quickly nods and rushes from the room. He moves so quickly he doesn’t even shut the door.

I close it, then put on the clothes he lent me. While I’d love to take my clothes back with me, I know there’s no chance of me getting that red out. Also, I need to make my escape as quickly as I can. Spending any time with Monty after that awkward moment is not on my bingo card.

Easing the bathroom door open, I look out to see if he’s nearby. The bedroom is blessedly empty. I sprint across the space with my sneakers in hand. There’s no time to put them back on. Besides, If I’m quiet, maybe I’ll make it all the way out the door before anyone notices.

At the stairs, I take a second to listen for anyone who might be close by. There are voices yelling and chatting. Most sound far away.

I fly down to the main level. Once I’m within reach of the door, I breathe easier. Whatever just happened here, I can put it in the past. I won’t have to think about it.

Sure, Monty might be my boss’s brother and all, but that’s no biggie. They weren’t all that close before now. I doubt it’ll change much. How hard can it be to avoid a professional athlete? Not very hard if I had to guess.

If only I’d known then just how wrong I’d be.