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“Honesty,” she answered, promptly this time.
“That’s right. And that rule goes for me as well as you. So, if I tell you that you are allowed to do something, then you are allowed to do it. No tricks. I promise.”
Instead of reassuring her, his words seemed to have her sinking into herself. Her gaze shifted down, as if avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t being honest.”
“I know you weren’t, sweetheart. And I’m happy to reassure you as often as you need me to. I just want you to know that whenever possible, I will be as honest with you as I expect you to be with me.” When she still didn’t look at him, he rounded the couch to squat down in front of her. “Hey. I’m not mad, honey. There’s no reason to look so sad.”
Well, there were plenty of reasons for her to be sad, all things considered. He just didn’t want to be one of those reasons.
“Okay.” She still wasn’t making eye contact, but the ghost of a smile seemed to flit at the corners of her mouth.
Figuring that was probably as good as things were going to get for the time being, he rose and made his way back to the bedroom, where he grabbed the tray. She was sitting up straighter when he returned, more like the prim and proper lady she’d been downstairs, her feet flat on the floor and knees pressed together. It was probably for the best, as far as making a mess went, but he missed seeing her so relaxed and happy the way she’d been when he’d caught her by surprise.
Wanting to see her smile again, he made a show of presenting the tray to her and placing it carefully across her lap with a little bow. “As promised, the world’s best grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
“It looks, um, delicious. Thank you.”
The doubt in her tone had him swallowing a laugh. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but that’s just because you don’t know the magic trick.”
She looked up at him, the doubt still there in her expression, but now there was also a childlike wonder that made his chest ache. “Magic?”
“Mmhmm. Take one of those little sandwich triangles and dip the corner in the bowl. Let it soak up some of the soup really good and then take a bite.”
“That doesn’t sound like magic,” she mumbled, but dutifully did as she’d been told, holding the corner of the small triangle in the red liquid for a few seconds before pulling it out and biting into the sandwich.
“Oh.” Eyes fluttering closed, she let out a low moan of satisfaction that seemed to shoot straight to his cock. “Thatismagic,” she whispered once she’d swallowed the bite.
“Told you.” He was filled with the sudden urge to take the sandwich from her, to feed her every last crumb, every last drop of soup, while they watched her movie.
And because the urge was so strong, he took a step back. Literally, because he obviously needed to take several figurative steps back as well. It was wrong to put her in that role, to imagine her as his Little girl, for so many reasons.
Not the least of all was his own damage. Even if MaryAnn was a Little, she deserved a Daddy who didn’t come with so much baggage. Someone who could help her heal, who could teach her how beautiful and special she was. Not someone who would spend the rest of his life grieving a life he could never have.
“Well, enjoy your movie. You can bring the tray downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. And I don’t think you’re boring.”
Confused, he frowned down at her. “What?”
Her gaze flicked up to meet his as pink colored her cheeks. “Earlier, you said I could either eat and watch my movie or I could come hang out with boring old you. I don’t think you’re boring.”
As his mind scrambled to catch up, he found himself chuckling. “Just old then, huh?”
“You said it, not me.”
That little hint of brattiness peeking out nearly convinced him to stay. What would it take to coax out this hidden aspect of her personality? To convince her it was safe, thatshewas safe, with him?
Because it was far too tempting to find out, he turned on his heel and headed for the door. No matter what happened over the next few hours or days or weeks, one thing was certain.
He needed to keep his distance from MaryAnn Foster.
CHAPTER4
Lunch was, as Dean had promised, comforting as well as filling. The soup warmed her from the inside out, even though she hadn’t really felt cold before she’d eaten it.
And she felt… if not happy, then content at the very least. Much more so than she’d expected to feel in a house that wasn’t her own. She missed her little apartment, and her art, but the rooms Dean had arranged for her were more than comfortable, and surprisingly welcoming.
She couldn’t discount the fact he seemed to have every streaming service known to man. Even before she’d lost her job, she’d put herself on a strict budget, one that hadn’t included the indulgence of multiple services. She’d made do with Netflix, and when that had run dry, she’d canceled and switched to another for a bit. At one point, she had considered splurging on the Disney app, but it had felt childish and impractical at the time, so she’d talked herself out of it.
