Page 83 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

I follow. Mission accomplished.

Chapter 8

Inside the truck, my dick is a metal flag pole. I squeeze the steering wheel, looking around for a place to park the truck and sink my meat into my brave little girl as a reward.

"I think I just came a little." She giggles, threading her fingers together and pushing them out in front of her, cracking her knuckles. "Violence is such a turn on."

I choke. "Jesus Christ, Wren. Just when I think you can't get any hotter, you do."

"I'm dead serious." She's grinning and hot as fire. "The way you picked him up. His feet were dangling. His little feet were just—"

She makes this little finger gesture like a kid's legs swinging back and forth.

"They were not dangling."

"They were dangling-adjacent and you know it." I click her seatbelt on and she settles back with a satisfied sprawl. "Bea's going to lose her entire mind. She's been wanting someone to do that since freshman week when he told her she was fat. And, the kiss? Daddy," She gives me a mock, disappointed pout, "That kiss was so hot."

I start the truck and check the mirrors more than I need to. My heart rate is still elevated and it's not entirely because of the kid I crumpled against his own wall. It's the way she's looking at me. Like I'm something she won. Someone she's proud of.

I don't deserve that look but I'm keeping it anyway.

Her shoulders slump. "What if he calls mom?"

I nod, already reaching for my phone. "I'm not going to give him the chance. I'm going to take care of this, right now."

"Wait." Fear rounds her eyes but I smooth a hand down the back of her hair.

"No, baby. I'm taking care of this. If your mother has a cockroach up her ass about it, she'll get over it. When she can be civil and polite, she can come talk to you, until then, everything will go through me."

***

A half hour later, we've had an interesting conversation with Linda. Wren is stable and understands that I'm now the wall between her and her mother for the time being. The TLDR version is, if she wants her daughter in her life, she needs to be fucking polite, accept our relationship or kick fucking rocks.

She loves Wren. She's not evil. She hates me at this point but my shoulders are broad and I know she'll calm the fuck down once she gets her expectations and ego out of the way.

Now, it's time to get back to the good stuff.

"You good, baby?"

She nods. "Yes. I have you. I trust you."

I press her palm to my lips, then flatten it over my heart.

"I need to make a stop before we go back to the house," I say.

"Where?"

"You'll see."

Where we're headed is twelve minutes from campus but the drive feels like it goes on forever.

I'm pretty sure she figures it out before I turn onto the street. Her brow furrows. Smooths. Furrows again. She knows me better than I'd like to admit.

She smacks my arm. "What did you do?"

I pull into the driveway. It's a white craftsman, deep porch, big back yard with enough space for the garden she doesn't know she wants yet.

I spent the week on the phone with contractors and agents. Snuck out one day to do the walk through, transfer the money and set up everything needed to make this happen and keep her safe and me sane.