Page 142 of Heart Over Heels

He shimmied off the bed and turned, wearing white lace panties that offered absolutely nothing in the way of modesty. His tail gave a happy wag as he grinned at me.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

I rolled onto my side and propped my chin in my fist. “About?”

He spread his arms like the answer was obvious. “It’s Daddy-daughter day!”

His joy was contagious, and I grinned despite the butterflies swarming in my stomach. “I think I’m mostly nervous,” I replied.

“Don’t be.” His smile softened as he stooped over the side of the mattress. “You’re wonderful, and you’re gonna do wonderful.” He paused before correcting himself. “Wonderful-ly.”

Straightening, he tapped his chin while pretending to think. “Do you need me to hype you up? I do it for the dolls all the time. Gets rid of those pre-show jitters.”

“Oh? How’s that go?”

“It’s different for everyone, but for you…” He trailed off, pondering until his expression suddenly brightened. “You, Mercer James,” he began. “Are a kickass Marine who looks incredibly sexy on a motorcycle, has a closet full of medals of valor, and you are also a responsible homeowner.”

Despite his cheeky expression and the shimmy that led my eyes on a journey across the planes of his body, I had to shake my head.

“I don’t think an eleven-year-old is gonna be impressed by any of those things.”

Darby scoffed right back. “You should’ve met me whenIwas eleven. I would have been impressed as hell.”

I fought the smile still tugging at my mouth. “Had they even invented motorcycles when you were eleven?”

Darby made a scandalized noise and launched himself onto the bed, tackling and pinning me against the headboard. From there, he swung a leg across my lap to straddle me and shove at my shoulders.

“Rude!” he exclaimed.

He started to climb off, but I caught his hips before he could wiggle away. “Maybe I don’t need a pep talk,” I said. “But Icoulduse your help.”

He straightened immediately and threw a salute. “Reporting for duty.”

“Can you make sure the boys are out of here on time? I want to make one last pass before Rachel arrives.” And turn on the hot pink lava lamp that had mysteriously made its way into Molly’s room. Those things took a while to warm up.

Darby narrowed his eyes. “I think what youmeanto ask is can I make sure the boys wipe their asses and your kitchen counters too. We don’t want your ex-wife stumbling in here and thinking you’ve been minding monkeys for half a week.”

“Haven’t I?”

His smirk softened into something fond as he dipped in to peck my lips. “They’ll be clean enough to eat off.”

He clambered off me and then the bed, and I watched him go because at this point looking away from him felt like a physical impossibility.

“The counters?” I called after him.

“And the floors, doors, and windows,” he replied, already halfway across the room. “You may not know this, but Maslow hired out plenty of things at the club. Housekeeping wasnotone of them. Leave it to us!”

He snagged his robe from the hook on the door—a slick, shimmering satin that matched his bonnet—and shrugged into it with a practiced roll of his shoulders. Once he’d knotted the tie at his waist, he pivoted and shot me a final, playful salute. I returned it then chuckled as he ducked out into the hall and started barking orders bound to send the dolls scrambling.

For a moment I stayed where I was, my insides still squirming with nerves. Then I blew out a breath and pushed the covers back. My gaze drifted to the stump of my right leg, then to the prosthetic propped against the bedside table.

Molly hadn’t seen me like this. Wounded and changed, but healed too. Most days I hid behind jeans or cargo pants, armor made of fabric and habit. But maybe I didn’t need armor this morning. Maybe I could share a little of myself and hope she’d offer the same in return. I wanted to know her—hear her plans and dreams and see the future come alive in her eyes.

Maybe that started with me.

So, I pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, brushed my teeth, and ran a hand through my hair. Then I paused in front of the bathroom mirror.

Mercer James.