Page 11 of Daddy's Treat
No. Fucking. Way.
“Practice is over. Hit the weights!” My order is filled with groans from the hungover bunch. “Do you want an extra hour?” There is a round of ‘no coach.’ “Then I suggest you move like you’ve got a fucking purpose and quit your whining!”
Once we are alone, I jump over the railing and scoop her up into a hug. She freezes in my hold for a moment but then melts into my arms. It feels like it’s been an eternity since I had her in my reach. In reality, it was just last night.
Too long, I think to myself.
“I’m glad you came, shortcake.” I kiss the top of her head. Just a whisper of a kiss that could be mistaken for a breath. My feelings and desires are moving at light-speed. If she knew how I am feeling about her, she would run for the hills in an instant. I need to take things slow.
“Me too.” She pulls away and tightens the sweatshirt around her waist. The movement makes her breasts move enticingly. I must be going for sainthood because I somehow find the strength not to touch.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Oh, yeah, I should probably be getting back to the library… study study study,” she rambles as she bends to get the backpack sitting at her feet.
“No, shortcake, I meant let’s get out of here together. I don’t know about you, but I could go for some Lenny’s. I’m starving.”
Penny blinks up at me in what can only be described as shocked confusion. Did she really think I asked her to come here just to send her away after a few minutes?
She gives me a shy smile. “I could eat.”
“Good.”
I reach for her bag and am dumbfounded by how heavy it is. It must weigh almost as much as she does. She stubbornly doesn’t let go of the strap she’s holding onto.
“I can carry that.” She scrunches up her nose and tries to pull the bag from my grip. It’s adorable. She’s like an angry kitten going up against a lion.
“I know youcan, shortcake, but when you’re with me, you don’tneedto.”
Her stubbornness melts away and is replaced by a small smile. “No one has carried my bag for me before. Or anything, for that matter, but lots of people have teased me about toppling over from having a bag so big.”
I can’t hold back my growl of anger at that. I hate that Penny’s had to deal with assholes making her feel bad about her size. There’s nothing wrong with being small. She needs someone to protect her from people like that.
No. Not just someone.
Me.
“That’s a shame. It’s my pleasure to carry your things for you.”
Penny’s eyes light up with pleasure at that. Such a simple thing makes her happier than another woman would be at fancy dinners and diamonds. I vow to find all the things that make her light up like that.
6
Penny
I can hardly believeI’m here, having lunch with Kade. I’ve pinched myself twice and haven’t woken up, so it must not be a dream. I’ve just never had a reality this awesome before, so it’s a bit unbelievable.
Even though it’s incredible that I’m here, and I’m thrilled about it, I’m also nervous to say or do the wrong thing. Which is why I’ve, once again, taken the path of least resistance and kept my mouth shut. It’s a solid plan to prevent the inevitable word vomit from happening. I’m not foolish enough to think I can avoid it indefinitely, but maybe I can make it through one meal without embarrassing myself.
An older woman dressed in a pink waitress uniform complete with little hat and a ruffly apron shows us to a booth and unceremoniously drops our menus in front of us. There is a popular restaurant that is famous for the wait staff being nasty to the customers. If you didn’t know any better, you would think Lenny’s was trying to emulate that business model. They aren’t. The waitresses are just surly from serving college kids every day for eight hours a day. College kids are notorious for leaving terrible tips or no tips at all. I’m not one of those people. I always leave at least twenty percent, sometimes more.
Kade and I open our menus, and I quietly study it even though I already know what I want. I get the same thing every time I eat here. Pancakes with extra syrup, scrambled eggs, bacon, and chocolate milk. Something Lucy said creeps into my mind: ‘Never order a full meal on a date. Always get the salad and make sure you only nibble at it. You don’t want to bloat on a date.’ I never gave that little ‘lesson’ of hers much thought.
…But now that I’m sitting across from Kade, I wonder if I should follow her unsolicited advice. She is an experienced dater, and I am not.
Is this even a date?
That question shakes loose the part of me that blurts out things without running them through my filter first. It really is a problem. I should work on that.