Page 72 of Homebound

She flashes those dimples again at my baby girl. “She’s all smiles, just like her daddy.”

I sway them both in my arms. Most bull riders are pretty small, so she fits snugly in my embrace. “Can I join in on this dance party with my girls?”

Dakota’s brows shoot up. “Your girls?”

Using my knuckle, I lift her chin. “Yes, my girls.”

I smush Vienna between us, settle my hand on Dakota’s lower back, and start leading them in a two-step. Vi giggle-screams, and this right here is everything I want. Two-stepping in the kitchen with my girls.

Both our lives are so intense that I want to come home to something as easy as breathing. There’s no other woman who would trek through a half-mile of cacti in the middle of the night just to get my daughter a thermometer.

Well, there probably are, but I only want this one.

The song comes to a gentle, final strum.

I twirl them both in one last spin. Vi tucked safely against Dakota’s chest. “See honey, that’s how you two-step.”

She bites her bottom lip, and it seems like both our thoughts drift back to last night. At least, I’m thinking about the way our bodies felt pressed together, and how I want everything from her. But then she looks down at my daughter and gives her a big smack of a kiss on her cheek, and I think that might be even better than her thinking of me.

Vi starts squirming in her arms, which usually means she wants some space to move around, so I take her and navigate the sea of toys in the living room.

“Here you go, baby.” I drop her into her enclosed playpen. She crawls forward, and I watch to see if she’ll stand, holding my breath, but she doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Dakota asks. “Why are you frowning?”

I sigh, trying to push the worries away. “I’m waiting to see if Vi will walk. I’m trying not to stress about it, but it’s hard.”

Dakota starts washing one of her orange-juice-crusted sippy cups. “Hey, she’ll get there. She’s so close. I’ve seen her pull herself up on furniture, so maybe she’s just not ready yet.”

“Maybe,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around her from behind. It’s nice to have someone to share my worries with because normally, it’s just my parents, and they always listen, but they have each other.

I have no one.

I kiss the curve of her neck. “Thank you.”

“For teaching your daughter my amazing dance skills?” she teases, drying the sippy cup.

“No, for everything you did last night. It’s nice having someone during the hard parts.”

She turns around to face me, gripping the granite counter. “It’s nice feeling needed during the hard parts.”

She sucks on her bottom lip again, and the motion has me remembering last night again, and the way she bit my lip. I want her, so I press her hips back into the sink.

I’m trying to keep this PG, since Vi is ten-feet away playing with her singing vegetable toys, but with the way my boxers are tightening, this is quickly bypassing right into PG-13 territory. And with the way her nipples are hardening in that tiny tank, it might go straight to an R-rating.

I lift her chin with two fingers and go in for a kiss right as Vi lets out a high-pitched wail that travels into the kitchen.

“Dada!” she screams, slapping her toys. “Mo!”

With a heavy sigh-groan, I drop my head to Dakota’s shoulder. “That means she’s hungry.”

Her shoulders shake with a chuckle, and she kisses my cheek. “You’re a daddy first.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to remember that with you in those tiny shorts,” I drawl, navigating the land mine of toys again to my daughter.

“Want me to take them off so you forget?” she challenges.

Fuck me. I do not need to be thinking about that right now.