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Her eyes bugged out of her head. “What?”
“I asked if you went potty.”
“You can’t call it that.”
“Can call it whatever I like, baby girl.” His eyes were back to dancing.
Mood. Swings.
“I used the toilet, yes. Thank you for asking.” Urgh, why did she just thank him for that?
Idiot.
Now his lips were twitching. “You’re a nut.”
Shewas a nut?Hejust said the word potty and wanted her to stay where he put her.
He started tugging her toward the door that led out to the main room. She tugged back.
He turned, eyeing her. Then, without a word, he swept her up and held her on his hip.
“Daddy, what are you doing?”
She wriggled, trying to free herself.
“Stop moving around,” he commanded, smacking the side of her thigh. “I don’t want you to slip.”
“That would never happen, Daddy,” she said confidently.
“You think not?”
“No, cause you’d never let me fall.”
He stilled at the doorway and glanced down at her. “You’re right. I never would.” He carried her out into the main room.
“Damon,” she whispered nervously.
“I’d never let you fall, baby girl. Also never let you be in a position where you might be embarrassed or humiliated. Trust me?”
“Always,” she replied. And she knew he meant it. He’d never do anything that might hurt her. Physically or emotionally.
“Your trust means everything.”
As they entered the room, she saw that he’d moved the coffee table over slightly. Sitting on top were a laptop and cup of coffee. Then just behind the coffee table, he’d set a fluffy rug down on the floor in front of the sectional.
Sitting on the fluffy rug were some coloring books and pens. Along with a pile of blocks and a set of wooden dolls that had outfits that you could change out.
“Ooh, Daddy! I love those dollies!”
“That’s good, baby girl. Because I need you to do some playing while Daddy works for a bit, all right?”
“You shouldn’t work so much, Daddy! You should play with me.”
“Maybe in a while.” He set her down on the floor just as her tummy grumbled. “But let’s get you some food first.”
She stiffened, wondering how he was going to get the food. Would he have someone send something up from the kitchen?
“Relax, Spitfire. Daddy has it all sorted.” He moved behind the bar and shifted things around.
