Page 60 of Daddy's Rules

Chapter Sixteen

Owen

The dogs yank on their leashes when we get into the foyer. “Easy!” I demand but they don’t relax at my command like they normally would. I crouch to release them and they burst from me, heading for the back door. I’m taken aback by their reaction but as I stand to set their leashes on the table by the door, I see the yellow envelope.

One with a defect in the right corner.

My heart jumps into my throat and I pull my phone from my pocket while running through the house calling for Jordan. She’s nowhere, but a broken bottle of rum on the kitchen floor has me frantic. I call both 911 and Benton. He’s not at his desk according to his voice mail so I leave a message as I follow the dogs to the back door where they’re barking and growling.

As soon as I open the door, Hope bursts through it and bolts up the beach. Crash follows as fast as his little legs can carry him. And without a thought, I run after them.

I see a body slumped awkwardly on the sand and my heart lands in my gut; the air, or my ability to utilize it, is gone and the pain of grief further suffocates me. It takes seconds to get to the body, but it feels like hours before I’m sliding on my knees in the sand toward it. Only when I turn the woman over, despite her difference in size and shape to Jordan, do I finally believe it’s not her and find my breath.

I check for Kari-Anne Bowing’s pulse and once I find it, I try to shake her awake. She murmurs only one garbled sentence. “Greg... gun... has Jordan.” And again my lungs start to freeze, but this time I push through it, jumping up.

“Help is on the way,” I tell Kari-Anne and run again. It’s not long before I see the small thin man with his arm extended and my Jordan diving into the sand as a shot rings out. I’m too far away to do anything, even yelling would be caught by the wind and carried away, but Hope isn’t.

She leaps, and my breath halts. She seems to fly the three yards to reach Greg’s outstretched arm. The gun is poised and ready to fire again. Jordan is still in the sand, scrambling to get to her feet. Hope catches Greg’s arm and when she lands, Greg is knocked off his feet into the sand. Adrenaline pumps through me and I burst forward.

Greg is screaming and Hope is tearing at his arm, while the gun lies just out of his reach. I dive for it, getting a mouthful of sand, before I roll onto my back to point the gun at Greg. By now, Crash has arrived and wants his piece of the man responsible for hurting his mama, too. I tell Hope to release. Her blonde muzzle is covered in blood and Greg’s face is contorted in pain, but as soon as she drops his arm, Crash grabs the only tender place he can reach.

Even in the tense situation, I laugh. “Good boy, Crashy. Good boy!”

Hope lowers her head and growls fiercely, lunging whenever Greg moves, effectively making sure Crash gets his teeth good and deep into Greg’s groin and there’s not a damn thing he can do to stop it unless he wants the seventy-pound Labradoodle on him again. I grimace at the thought of those sharp puppy teeth piercing his balls, but he deserves it.

“Call it off! Call off your fucking wolf!”

“Good girl, Hope,” I croon and narrow my eyes at Greg, but before I can speak further, I hear Jordan’s voice.

“He’s not a wolf, he’s a Yorkie, dipshit.” When Crash hears Jordan’s voice he lets go of Greg’s crotch and runs to her, making yippy happy puppy sounds, but Hope stays right where she is, ears back and teeth bared.

I glance at Jordan without fully removing my eyes from Greg. “You okay, baby girl?”

“I’m okay,” she answers. “I’m going back for Kari.” I nod and she jogs away, Crash on her heels and sirens shrieking loudly over the wind.

* * *

As I watch Jordan walkthrough our yard toward the beach, arm in arm with Beezy, with Hope obediently at her side and a leashed Crash chasing the train of her beautiful white gown, I smile. I’ve never seen her look so happy. For once, Jordan has a real family that loves her, despite that lack of blood connection, and I’m about to make myself officially part of it.

Chairs on the beach are filled with the meaningful people in our lives and as the sun sinks low and kisses the horizon, we hold each other’s hand and say our vows.

Since Kari-Anne Bowing’s exposé hit the news, and my sweet baby girl donated every last penny of her father’s money to a charity to help keep siblings in the foster system together, the last thing people are talking about is our relationship. And even if the occasional question is asked, we both answer with pride.

When the justice of the peace tells me I can kiss my bride, I pull her tight against me and dip her low, taking her mouth with mine and not letting it go until the small group of guests starts cat-calling.

Still only inches from her mouth, I say, “Let’s show these people a good time, so I can finally have my wife all to myself.” I pull her upright and kiss her again but this time no one’s watching us. Crash breaks free and starts chasing a group of gulls toward the guests and three unleashed dogs, walking on the beach with their senior citizen owner, follow suit. The guests scatter, trying to get out of the way of the group of dogs, when one of the fur balls hits the leg of the small gauzy tent that covers us and it floats down over everyone’s heads but ours.

“Getting alone time has been elusive lately, Daddy, but how did you train him to do that?” Jordan says with a feminine chuckle.

“Have I told you how much I miss Beast?” I groan, but scoop her up in my arms. I ignore the squeals and shouts from the guests trying to escape the dogs, gulls, and tent, and hold Jordan’s gaze. “And young lady, I’m pretty sure you’re that one that had that little brat’s leash last, so I’m holding you responsible.”

“Hmm, did I?” She tips her head back and laughs, exposing her creamy neck. I dive for it and nibble until she squeals.

“I think my baby girl needs some attention.” I look at the mess of people trying to fix the tent. “And I believe we suddenly have some time.”

“You mean you’re not going to help our guests?” Her mouth opens in shock, but the twinkle in her eyes belies her shock. I set her down on her feet.

I call to Riley’s husband, who’s helping put the poles back into the sand. He waves and says, “I got this!”

I look back at my blushing bride, nudging my head toward her best friend’s husband. “He’s got this.” My hands find her ass through all the wedding gown material and I give it a squeeze. “And I got this.”

She puts a hand over her heart. “And this too, Daddy.”

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The End