Page 10 of Daddy’s Fortitude

She’d always been a sucker for a man with a beard. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man that big before. He’d made her feel so tiny, and she was above average height for a woman.

He’d picked her up like she weighed nothing at all.

Too bad he’d opened his mouth and proved to be a bit of a dick. Not that she had room in her life at the moment for any sort of romantic relationship. Or that he’d look twice at her.

A sudden knocking made her frown, and she let out a deep breath. She hoped to God it wasn’t someone coming to tell her how sorry they were. Most of the time, they just wanted to gossip about her.

She headed to the front door and put a practiced smile on her face. Opening it, she stared at the person on the doorstep. For a moment, her brain couldn’t comprehend who it was, and then she scowled.

“You!”

4

Ammo stared at the woman on the other side of the door.

Fucking fantastic.

He should have known. It was just his luck.

She had to be Aimee. Unless she was here just visiting. She didn’t look like the woman that Charlie had talked about. He’d always said that she was very prim and proper, that she dressed nicely in skirts and blouses, and that she could be a bit of a snob.

This girl was a mess. There was a stain on her T-shirt. Her jeans looked like they were several sizes too big for her. And she might have taken off her cap, but her hair was a mess underneath.

And was something moving in it? He stared at her hair. It was piled up high on her head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so much hair.

But yep, it just moved again.

“What are you doing here? Have you come to scold me again for crossing the street without looking?” she asked.

Well, he likely would scold her for that again, but that wasn’t why he was here, no.

But he couldn’t seem to explain himself. His gaze was caught on her hair. There, it moved again. Did she have lice? Oh my God, what was going on here?

“Your hair is moving.”

“What?” she asked, looking confused.

Well, that made two of them. “Your hair is moving.”

And then a small face appeared out of her hair, a small rat-looking face.

“There’s a rat in your hair.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s Kevin.”

She said it like it was common for people to walk around with a rat in their hair called Kevin.

“That’s Kevin,” he repeated.

“Yeah, it’s Kevin,” she said. “He’s my emotional support animal.”

“He’s your emotional support animal.” He felt like he was speaking another language, or maybe she was, and he just couldn’t comprehend the words. He got each one individually, but when he tried to string them together they just weren’t making any sense.

“Yes, this is Kevin. He’s my emotional support rat.” She reached into her hair and drew Kevin out. The rat sat in the palm of her hand and just stared up at him.

As far as rats went, he was actually pretty cute with white and gray patches and a tiny nose and ears.

“Of course he’s Kevin, your emotional support rat.”