Page 87 of Sweet Distraction

I breathe in everything about my daughter—the scent of her shampoo, the weight of her head against my chest, the soft twitching as she falls asleep.

It settles something in my chest I didn’t know was out of place until now.

It makes up my mind for me like I ever had a choice.

I want to earn the right to be her dad.

Not because I have no choice.

Not because the court says I have to be.

But because she’s mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Willow

The world spins a little more off-key as I shut Lily’s car door behind me and make my way up the walkway.

I’m not drunk, but just warm. Floaty. In that lovely buzz that lowers your guard and makes you believe your own ridiculous thoughts.

Like the one where I remember thinking Rocket wanted me.

Yeah. Right.

I press my hand against the front door to steady myself. The short respite has every second of the past four hours replaying through my head. The time spent trying to enjoy myself but thinking about Rocket instead.

There were plenty of guys paying attention to me. Flirty glances, dirty jokes, and attempts at buying drinks, but every one of them fell flat.

And annoyingly, I know it’s because none of them were him.

None of them looked at me like I was the only woman in the room. None of them stared at my mouth like they were starving.

None of them were Rocket fucking Caldwell.

“A good night’s sleep will fix it,” I mutter to myself as I unlock the front door.

That or a toe-curling, mind-bending orgasm.

I shut the door as quietly as possible and slip off my shoes so they don’t click on the floor and make too much noise. I don’t make it five steps into the great room before I stop.

Because I see them.

Rocket on the couch, shirtless and hair tousled, with his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and one arm wrapped around her. And then there’s Poppy, curled up on his chest with her hand splayed over his heart like it belongs there.

My heart cracks open.

He’s never looked sexier and for reasons way beyond what he physically looks like. It’s not lust I feel. It’s a deeper sensation that I don’t have a name for yet. It’s terrifying and invigorating.

I struggle to find a breath and fear that if I look away, when I look back, the sight of them together will be gone. Like this is some weird dream that will disappear.

But it doesn’t. Not when Rocket stirs and blinks awake slowly. He yawns quietly as his eyes find mine, and a sluggish smile plays on his lips.

“You’re home early.”

Early? I guess by his standards, midnight is early, but not for me.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks.