Page 72 of Protector Daddy


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Reagan

How old is she?

24.

Reagan

Oh, good, I was afraid she was like eighteen or something.

The back of my neck was positively on fire now.

I hated this new flushing habit I’d developed. I hoped I lost it soon.

For years, I’d been a stern, incapable-of-looking-embarrassed cop. Now I was flushing as often or more than my brother Murphy. And he didn’t do it much anymore.

I blamed Honey for this new development. Same reason I smiled and laughed so much nowadays. And also had the focus of a high school student about to graduate. She filled all my thoughts.

Because I was in love with her. Of course. How had it taken until this moment for me to fully grasp it?

Probably because your life is full of denial.

I blew out a breath and answered.

She’ll be 25 in the spring.

Reagan

Robbing the cradle, huh, Dad?

I didn’t answer that because I felt that way myself. But I couldn’t stop myself from wanting—and loving—Honey any more than I could keep my heart from beating.

She’s very mature for her age.

Reagan

Sure, sure.

I hope you like each other. I just really want you two to get along.

Reagan replied right away.

Reagan

If you love her, I bet I will too. Will she be at the family dinner?

I wasn’t blushing now. Now I was fucking misty-eyed again. What were these women in my life doing to me?

Yeah, I think so. But I’m hoping you can meet her tomorrow at my house. Not sure yet. I have to talk to her.

Reagan

Okay. I’ll be there by ten. Gigi made cinnamon rolls so I’m gonna go have one while they’re warm.

Sounds good. Love you. Night, sweetheart.

Reagan

Love you. Night, Dad.

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